**A BMi'fl :>C_C 33T^ *s j ^ ,r to the 9 Co- AN ANALYSIS OF MR. LOCKE'S DOCTRINE OF IDEAS FN £ The Word Idea oortlprehmdt wAatWwff w «** °bJret °* L IDEAS NOT INNATE J. Because ilis of no use to mpjpo&e tbem 50. boWj • ^ ._, 2. TJic step* to knowledge discoverable. itiiJ. .ma f '*' 3. Nq( perceived in a state ..( infancy, b. i.e. 2. § &• 4. Reason necessary to their discovery, ibid. § 9- 5. lde»o/God, not iDnatc. c. 4. § 8. therefore no otMf.J f>. Principle- m>i muai, . I>< ■, ause ideas an? not SO ! Qi e nol sufficient to prove them so. 8. Nor universal assent, ibid. f Specula!**. ' J- '"demanding, ft. I.e. I. 6 8. To front paft I Fd /. PAY OIN HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. IV. IDEAS C0NS1DKKED WITH REGARD TO THEIR qjiAUTIM tl) F , See also the preface. ■ i. dull organ* ' :. Sligbl impri ssions, IB">. ^ 3. Weak memory, ibid. frames, 10, and b. 3, c » ' i simple ideasinlbe 9. Assent not Irulv i 5. Language^ R I.JHeuun warily ba'l.' i. Power v Vli" ■ . 7, i principles. J Practical. *-*■ per tot. and c. 4. VT. 1 of all these, '"en may justly demanda [The true ground of morality, ibid. § 6. Men think nol ahvajs t>. 2. < .. I. ■> 10, ix. c. I?- § J. To suppose the contrary would Ik- making different persons in the same being, b. And having thought* that conic neither from sens*('"ii nor reflection, ibid. § 17. Probable that thinking may he no more than an actum of the soul. ibid, and c. 19. § 4. Impossible to determine whether God may not annex thought to a solid substance, b. Whence the opinion of innate ideas, b. | bounds. I Tastes, Smell;, Motion (.Rest, ligation often altered hy the pi dement, c. 9 ''I. The tirst step toward- knowledge, c. 9. ft 15. 2. Employed about ideas, c. 9. § 1. 3. Distinguished from naked or passive perception, ibid, and ption."} 4. Not necessary upon the action of objects 5. Common to all animals. 5§ II, 12. 6. Distinguished into three kinds with respect to its objects, ft. Contemplation, c. 10. § 1. C Assisted by attention and repetition, J. 3, | 2. Memory. § 2. 2 The mind often active in ' " (Belongs to brutes. § 10. Chance Habit. { t Antipathies C 1. Clear ideas necessary to it, c. II, § 3. Discerning. < 2. Wit lies in assembling ideas, .> 2. (3. Judgment in separating them, ibid. ' I . TIi' rice ideas of n- Kit ions, c. 11,5 4. 4. Comparing, j 2i j$e|ongS |mt mipeifently to brute's, ibid. 5. Compound- < Hencc iJea6 o) autnb<,n aml other sj . ^ mgorenlarging. I rary 6ign; 2. Signs of ideas, not of things, ibid. 3 Its U;u, [Recording ideas, c. 9. § 2. t\ Communicating them. ibid. ■ ct, why. c. 9. ral abuses, e. 10. remedies, c. II. aboutij^ words so, * How made, iple \ Ultimate real existence. * Cannot be defined. § 4. Least doubtful of any. TSland for their real 3. Naiii*ofm.sed. J Tie several ideas together moiic»e»fl. "S Got before their ideas. § 1 (.Doubtful, why. c. 9. §6. 4 iNmuOsof sub- (How made. 544. -u-*.c. G. J Referred to \ ^al essences. ■: I < oexistniii quah S< "inn .■!.] ideas together. § 1. Show their relation. § 3,4. Marks of an action of the mind, ibid ■-" "■'»'=.'. fl. NotpredKublcofe " »tc. ibid. | Man tree. J Man nut free. ■ ■: .;. (Determined by' anxietv. . W3.§8.b.2. c.20. ' ] He,.. \\ E S S A \ CONOERMIM. HUMAN UNDERSTANDING, WRITTEN BY JOHN LOCKE, GENT TO WHICH ARE ADDED, X. AN ANALYSIS OF MR. LOCKE'S DOCTRINE OF IDEAS, ON A LARGE SHEET. II. A DEFENCE OF MR. LOCKE'S OPINION CONCERNING PERSONAL IDENTITY, WITH AN APPENDIX. III. A TREATISE ON THE CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. IV. SOME THOUGHTS CONCERNING READING AND STUDY FOR A GENTLEMAN. V. ELEMFNTS OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. VI. A NF.W METHOD OF A COMMON-PLACE BOOK. FXTR ACTED FROM THE AUTHOR*S WORKS. A NEW EDITION. IN TWO VOLUMES, VOL. I. KcUj=¥offe: PUBt/ISHED HY VALENTINE REAM.VN I k. J. Harper, Printer;. 1884 PREFACE BY THE EDITOR The person chiefly concerned in improving this edition of Mr. Locke's Essay, having long entertained an high esteem for that author's writings, and being informed that a new edition was preparing, became naturally desirous of seeing one more com- plete than any of the foregoing ; and of contributing his assist- ance towards it, (so far as the short time allowed for that purpose would give leave) by not only collating former editions, and cor- recting those numerous errors which had crept into most of them ; but also by inserting, or giving some description of such other pieces as are known to have come from the same hand, though not appearing in any catalogue or collection of his works. The farther liberty has been taken to subjoin a few things by other hands, which seemed necessary to a right use of Mr. Locke's discoveries, and a more ready application of the princi- ples whereon they are founded, v* g. 1. To the Essay on Human Understanding is prefixed a cor- rect analysis, which has been of considerable service by redu- cing that Essay into some better method, which the author himself shows us, (preface and elsewhere) that he was very sensible it wanted, though he contented himself with leaving it in its original form, for reasons grounded on the prejudices then prevailing against so novel a system ; but which hardly now subsist. This map of the intellectual world, which exhibits the whole doctrine of ideas in one view, must to an attentive reader appear more commodious than any of those dry compends generally made use of by young students, were they more perfect than even the best of them are found to be. 2. There is also annexed to the same Essay a small tract in defence of Mr. Locke's opinion concerning personal identity; a point of some consequence, but which many ingenious persons, probably from not observing what passed between him and Moly- neaux on the subject, [letters in September and December, 1693, and January, February, May, 1694,] have greatly misunderstood. It may perhaps be expected that we should introduce this edi- tion of Mr. Locke's Essay with a particular history of the author's circumstances and connexions; but as several narratives of this ivind have been already published by different writers> viz. A. 4 mil FACE B\ THE E15ITOK. Wood, [Ath. Ox. Vol. 2 ;] P. Costc, [Character of Mr. Locke ;J Le Clerc, [first printed in English before the Letters on Tolera- tion, 1689, but more complete in the edition of 1713, from whence the chief part of the subsequent lives is extracted ;] Locke's Article in the Supplement to Collier Addend. ; and by the compilers of the General Dictionary, Biographia Britan- nica, Memoirs of his Life and Character, 1742, &c. &c. and since most of that same account which has been prefixed to some late editions, by way of Life, is likewise here annexed, there seems to be little occasion for transcribing any more of such common occurrences, as are neither interesting enough in themselves, nor sufficiently characteristic of the author. We have therefore chosen to confine the following observations to a critical survey of Mr. Locke's writings, after giving some account of his literary correspondence, and of such anonymous tracts as are not com- monly known to be his, but yet distinguishable from others that have been imputed to him. Besides those posthumous pieces which have been already collected by Des Maizeaux, and joined with some others in the late editions, there is extant, 1. His Introductory Discourse to Churchill's Collection of Voyages, [in four vols, fol.] containing the whole History of Na- vigation from its Original to that Time, (A. D. 1704) with a Cata- logue and Character of most Books of Travels.* These voyages are commonly said to have been published under his direction. They were presented by him to the univer- sity of Oxford [v. Collier's Diet.] That he was well versed in such authors is pretty plain, from the good use he has made of them in his essays ; and the introductory discourse is by no means unworthy of him, though deemed too large to be admitted into this publication : whether it may be added, some time hence, in a supplemental volume, along with some of his other tracts here- after mentioned, must be submitted to the public, and those who are styled proprietors. 2. For the same reason we are obliged to suppress another piece usually ascribed to him, and entitled, The History of our Saviour Jesus Christ, related in the Words of Scripture, contain- ing, in Order of Time, all the Events and Discourses recorded in the four Evangelists, &c. 8vo. printed for A. and J.Churchill, 1705, concerning which a learned friend, who has carefully exa- mined, it, gives the following account : " I am inclined to think that this work is the genuine production of Mr. Locke. It is compiled with accuracy and judgment, and is in every respect worthy of that masterly writer. 1 have compared it with Mr. Locke's Treatise on the Reasonableness of Christianity, and find a striking resemblance between them in some of their expres- sions, in their quotations from Scripture, and in the arrangement of our Saviour's discourses." Under each of these heads this ■* To the present edition this work is BftMeA PREFACE BY THE EDITOR. o ingenious writer has produced remarkable instances of such resemblance, but too particular and minute to be here recited ; on the last he adds, that whoever reads the Treatise on the Rea- sonableness of Christianity with the least attention, will perceive that Mr. Locke has every where observed an exact chronological order in the arrangement of his texts, which arrangement per- fectly corresponds with that of the History. It wouid have been very difficult to throw a multitude of citations from the four Evangelists into such a chronological series without the assistance of some Harmony, but Mr. Locke was too cautious a reasoner to depend upon another man's hypothesis ; I am therefore per- suaded that he compiled this Harmony, the History of Christ, for his own immediate use, as the basis of his Reasonableness of Christianity. And though the original plan of this history may have been taken from Garthwaite's Evangelical Harmony, 4to. 1633, as Dr. Doddridge supposes, yet the whole narrative and particular arrangement of facts is so very different, that Mr. Locke's History in 1705 may properly be termed a new work. 3. Select Moral Books of the Old Testament and Apocrypha, paraphrased, viz. Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Wisdom, and Ecclesi- asticus, in one vol. 12mo. 170b. This useful work is given by tradition to Mr. Locke, and his name often written before it accordingly. It was printed for his old booksellers A. and J. Churchill, and is thought by some good judges to bear evident marks of authenticity : of which I shall only observe farther, that by the method there taken of paraphrasing these writers in one close, continued discourse, where the substance is laid toge- ther and properly digested, a much better connexion appears to be preserved, and the author's sense more clearly expressed than it can be in any separate exposition of each verse, with all the repetitions usual in eastern writings, and all the disadvantages arising from the very inaccurate division of their periods, as is hinted in the judicious preface to that work. 4. A letter to Mrs. Cockburn, not inserted before in any col- lection of Mr. Locke's pieces. It was sent with a present of books to that lady, on her being discovered to have written a Defence of his Essay against some Remarks made upon it by Dr. T. Burnet, author of the Theory of the Earth, &c. Dr. Burnet's Remarks appeared without his name in three parts, the first of which was animadverted on by Mr. Locke at the end of his Reply to Bishop Stillingfleet in 1697 ; the two others were left to the animadversion of his friends. .Mrs. Cockburn, to whom the letter under consideration is addressed, finished her Defence of the Essay in December, 1701, when she was but twenty two years old, and published it in May, 1702, the author being indus- triously concealed : which occasioned Mr. Locke's elegant com- pliment of its being " a generosity above the strain of that grovel- ling age, and like that of superior spirits, v>ho assist without showing themselves." In 1724 the same lady wrote a letter to <* PREFACE BY THE EDITOK. Dr. Holdsworth on his injurious imputations cast upon Mr. Locke concerning the Resurrection of the same Body, printed in 1726 ; and afterward an elaborate Vindication of Mr. Locke's Christian Principles, and his controversy on that subject, first published, together with an account of her works, by Dr. Birch, 1751, and the fore-mentioned letter added to the collected works of Locke, Vol. x. p. 314. 5. Of the same kind of correspondence is the curious letter to Mr, Bold, in 1699, (which is also inserted in the tenth vol. p. 315,) as corrected from the original. Mr. Bold, in 1699, set forth a piece, entitled, Some Considerations on the principal Objections and Arguments which have been published against Mr. Locke's Essay ; and added in a collection of tracts, pub- lished 1706, three defences of his Reasonableness of Christianity ; with a large discourse concerning the Resurrection of the same Body, and two letters on the Necessary Immateriality of created thinking Substance. Our author's sentiments of Mr. Bold may be seen at large in the letter itself, Works, Vol. x. p. 315. 6. Mr. Locke's fine account of Dr. Pococke was first published in a collection of his letters, by Curl, 1714, (which collection is not now to be met with) and some extracts made from it by Dr. Twells, in his Life of that learned author, [Theol. Works, Vol. I, p. 83.] The same is given at full length by Des Maizeaux, as a letter to * * * *, (intending Mr. Smith of Dartmouth, who had prepared materials for that life) but without specifying either the subject or occasion. 7. The large Latin tract of Locke's De Toleratione was first introduced in the late 4to. edition of his works ; but as we have it translated by Mr. Popple to the author's entire satisfaction, and as there is nothing extraordinary in the language of the original, it was judged unnecessary to repeat so many things over again by inserting it. Perhaps it might afford matter of more curiosity to compare some parts of his Essay with Mr. Burridge's Version, said to be printed in 1701, about which he and his friend Moly- neaux appeared so extremely anxious, but which he tells Lim- borch (Aug. 1 701) he had not then seen ; nor have we learnt the fate of this Latin version, any more than what became of a French one, (probably that of P. Coste, mentioned under Locke's article in the General Dictionary) in correcting which he (Mr. Locke) had taken very great pains, and likewise altered many passages of the original, in order to make them more clear and easy to be translated.* Many of these alterations I have formerly seen under his hand in the library at Oates, where he spent the last and most agreeable part of his life in the company of lady Masham, and where his own conversation must have proved no less agreeable and instructing to that lady, since by Biogr. Britan. p. 2999. PREFACE BY THE EDITQIi. means 01 it, as well as from an education under the eye of her father, Cudworth, she appears to have profited so much as to compose a very rational discourse, entitled, Occasional Thoughts in reference to a virtuous and Christian Life, published 1705, and frequently ascribed to Mr. Locke. [See particularly Boyer's Annals of Queen Anne, Vol. III. p. 262.] She was generally believed (as Le Clerc tells us) to be the author of another discourse on the Love of God, in answer to Mr. Norris • which has likewise been attributed to Mr. Locke, and has his name written before it in a copy, now in the library of Sion College, but others give it to Dr. Whitby. Of the same excellent lady Mr. Locke gives the following character to Lim- borch : " Ejus [i. e. Historian Inquisitionis] lectionem sibi et utilissirnam et jucundissimam fore spondet domina Cudwortha. quae paternoe benignitatis hasres omnem de rebus religionis perse- eutionem maxime aversatur." Lett. June, 1691. "Hospes mca tyrannidi ecclesiastical inimicissima, saspe mihi laudat inge- nium et consilium tuum, laboremque huic operi tarn opportune impensum, creditque frustra de religionis reformatione et Evan- gelii propagatione tantum undique strepitum moveri. dum tyran- nis in ecclesia, vis in rebus religionis (uti passim mos est) aliis sub nominibus utcunque speciosis obtinet et laudatur.'"' Id. Nov. 1691. 6. We cannot in this place forbear lamenting the suppression of some of Mr. Locke's treatises* which are in all probability not to be retrieved. His Right Method of searching after Truth. which Le Clerc mentions, is hardly to be met with ; nor can a I raci which we have good ground to believe that he wrote, in the Unitarian Controversy, be well distinguished at this distance of time ; unless it prove to be the following piece, which some inge- nious persons have judged to be his ; and if they are right in their conjecture, as I have no doubt but they are, the address to him- self that is prefixed to it must have been made on purpose to conceal the true author, as a more attentive perusal of the whole ! tact will convince anyone, and at the same time show what reason there was for so extremely cautious a proceeding Part of the long title runs thus : " The Exceptions of Mr. Edwards in bis Causes of Atheism, against The Reasonableness of Christian- ity as delivered in the Scriptures, examined and found unreason- able, unscriptural, and injurious. &c. London, printed in the year 1G95," 47 pages, 4to. It is uncertain whether he lived to finish that System of Ethics which his friend Molyneaux so frequently recommended to him : but from a letter to the same person, dated April, 1698, it appears' that he had several plans by him, which either were never exe cuted, or never saw the light. Among the late Mr. Yorke's papers, burnt in his chambers in LincolnVInn, were many of Mr. Locke's letters to Lord Som- •ncr^. but probably no copies of these remain : which must prove U PREFACE BY THE EDITOR. an irreparable loss to the public, many of them being in all like- lihood written on subjects of a political nature, as that eminent patriot was well acquainted with, and seems to have availed him- self considerably of Mr. Locke's principles throughout his excel- lent treatise, entitled. The Judgment of whole Kingdoms and Nations concerning the Rights and Prerogatives of Kings, and the Rights, Privileges, and Properties of the People. A work which seems to be but little known at present, though there was a tenth edition of it in 1771. The conclusion is taken almost verbatim from Mr. Locke. 9. Thirteen letters to Dr. Mapletoft, giving some account of his friends, with a large description of a severe nervous disorder, and his method of treating it, and frequent intimations of his desire to succeed the doctor in his professorship at Gresham College, &c. were very obligingly communicated by a grandson of the doctor's ; but we had not room to insert them, as they con- tain very few matters of literature, to which our inquiries are chiefly confined at present ; nor shall we be excused perhaps for taking notice of his letter to the Earl of **, dated May G, ) 676, with a curious old MS. on the subject of free masonry, published in the Gentleman's Magazine for September, I 758. We are informed, that there is a great number of original let- ters of Mr. Locke, now in the hands of the Rev. Mr. Tooke, chaplain to the British factory at Petersburgh ; but have no proper means of applying for them.* 10. Forty letters to Edward Clarke, Esq. M.P. are among Dr. Birch's papers in the Museum, but of like unimportance. Perhaps some readers think that the late editions of Mr. Locke's works are already clogged with too many of that kind ; however I shall give one of these for a specimen, on raising the value of coin, as the same method which he there recommends, viz. of weighing it, has of late been practised. See the letter in Vol. x. of Locke's Works, p. 320. The two letters from Lord Shaftesbury and Sir Peter King will speak for themselves. 11. It may likewise be observed, that our author has met with the fate of most eminent writers, whose names give a currency to whatever passes under them, viz. to have many spurious productions fathered on him. Beside those above- mentioned, there is a Common-place Book to the Bible, first pub- lished in 1693, and afterward swelled out wilh a great deal of matter, ill digested, and all declared to be Mr. Locke's ; but whatever hand he might be supposed to have in the original book itself, it is plain he had none in that preface, which is neither sense nor English. A puerile edition of iEsop's Fables * We have been indulged by Mr. Tooke with a sight of some papers, 'which came into his hands reputed to be the productions of Mr. Locke. Some of them are evidently not his : and of those which have any importance we are not able just now to ascertain the authenticity. Among the latter is a tragedy entitle' Tamerlane the beneficent. — Ed, of the present Ed. PREFACE BY THE EDITOR. 9 lias likewise his name prefixed to it, and was in all probability ascribed to him for no better reason than the frequent mention made of that book in his Thoughts on Education. The title runs thus : " jEsop's Fables in English and Latin, interlineary, for the benefit of those who, not having a master, would learn either of those tongues. The second edition, with sculptures. By John Locke, gent. Printed for A. Bettes worth, 172.3." 12. But it is high time to conduct the reader to Mr. Locke's more authentic and capital productions, the constant demand for which shows that the}' have stood the test of time ; and their peculiar tendency to enlarge and improve the mind, must conti- nue that demand while a regard to virtue or religion, science or common sense, remains among us. 1 wish it were in my power to give so clear and just a view of these as might serve to point out their proper uses, and thereby direct young unprejudiced readers to a more beneficial study of them. The Essay on Human Understanding, that most distinguished of all his works, is to be considered as a system, at its first appear- ance absolutely new, and directly opposite to the notions and per- suasions then established in the world. Now as it seldom hap- pens that the person who first suggests a discovery in any science is at the same time solicitous, or perhaps qualified to lay open all the consequences that follow from it ; in such a work much of course is left to the reader, who must carefully apply the leading principles to many cases and conclusions not there spe- cified. To what else but a neglect of this application shall we impute it that there are still numbers among us who profess to pay the greatest deference to Mr.Locke, and to be well acquainted with his writings, and would perhaps take it ill to have this pre- tension questioned ; yet appear either wholly unable, or unac- customed, to draw the natural consequence from any one of his principal positions ? Why, for instance, do we still continue so unsettled in the first principles and foundation of morals ? How came we not to perceive that by the very same arguments which that great author used with so much success in extirpating innate ideas, he most effectually eradicated all innate or connate senses, instincts, &c. by not only leading us to conclude that every such sense must, in the very nature of it, imply an object corres- pondent to and of the same standing with itself, to. which it refers [as each relative implies its correlate,] the real existence of which object he has confuted in every shape : but also by show- ing that for each moral proposition men actually want and may demand a reason or proof deduced from another science, and founded on natural good and evil : and consequently where no such reason can be assigned,* these same senses, or instincts, with See a very accurate explanation of Mr. Locke's Doctrine on this head and some other?, in a Philosophical Discourse on the Nature of Human Being, prefixed to some remarks upon Bishop Berkeley's Treatise un the same subject Printed for Dodslrv. r VOL. I 10 PREFACE BY THE EDITOR. whatever titles decorated, whether styled sympathetic or senti- mental, common or intuitive, — ought to be looked upon as no more than mere habits ; under which familiar name their autho- rity is soon discovered, and their effects accounted for. From the same principles it may be collected that all such pompous theories of morals, however seemingly diversified, yet amount ultimately to the same thing, being ail built upon the same false bottom of innate notions ; and from the history of this science we may see that they have received no manner of im- provement (as indeed by the supposition of their innateness they become incapable of any) from the days of Plato to our own; but must always take the main point, the ground of obligation, for granted ; which is in truth the shortest and safest way of pro- ceeding for such self-taught philosophers, and saves a deal of trouble in seeking reasons for what they advance, where none are to be found. Mr. Locke went a far different way to work, at the very entrance on his Essay, pointing out the true origin of all our passions and affections, i. e. sensitive pleasure and pain ; and accordingly directing us to the proper principle and end of virtue, private happiness, in each individual ; as well as laying down the adequate rule and only solid ground of moral obligation, the divine will. From whence also it may well be concluded that moral propositons are equally capable of cer- tainty, and that such certainty is equally reducible to strict de- monstration here as in other sciences, since they consist of the very same kind of ideas, [viz. general abstract ones, the true and only ground of all general knowledge ;] provided always that the terms be once clearly settled, in which lies the chief difficulty, and are constantly applied (as surely they may be) with equal steadiness and precision : which was undoubtedly Mr. Locke's meaning in that assertion of his which drew upon him so many solicitations to set about such a systematic demonstration of morals. In the same plain and popular introduction, when he has been proving that men think not always, [a position which, as he ob- serves, letter to Molyneaux, August 4, 1696, was then admitted in a commencement act at Cambridge for probable, and which few there nowadays are found weak enough to question] how come we not to attend him through the genuine consequences of that proof? This would soon let us into the true nature of the human constitution, and enable us to determine whether thought, when every mode of it is suspended, though but for an hour, can be deemed an essential property of our immaterial principle, or mind, and as such inseparable from some imaginary substance, or substratum, [words, by the by, so far as they have a meaning, taken entirely from matter, and terminating in it] any more than motion, under its various modifications, can be judged essential to the body, or to a purely material system.* Of that same * Vide Defence of Locke's Opinion concerning Personal Identity, Appendix to ih'e Thtfcft-y of Religion-, p. 431- &rc. nitd note 1. to Archibishop King's Or. of F I'ltEFACK BY THE EDITOR. ) J substance or substratum, whether material or immaterial, Mi. Locke has farther shown us that we can form but a very im- perfect and confused idea, if in truth we have any idea at all of it, though custom and an attachment to the established mode of philosophizing still prevails to such a degree that we scarcely know how to proceed without it, and arc apt to make as much noise with such logical terms and distinctions, as the schoolmen used to do with their principle of individuation, substantial forms. &c. Whereas, if we could be persuaded to quit every arbitrary hypothesis, and trust to fact and experience, a sound sleep any night would yield sufficient satisfaction in the present case, which thus may derive light even from the darkest parts of nature ; and which will the more merit our regard, since the same point has been in some measure confirmed to us by revelation, as our au- thor has likewise shown in his introduction to the Reasonableness of Christianity. The above-mentioned essay contains some more refined specu- lations which are daily gaining ground among thoughtful and intelligent persons, notwithstanding the neglect and the contempt to which studies of this kind are frequently exposed. And when we consider the force of bigotry and the prejudice in favour of antiquity which adheres to narrow minds, it must be matter of surprise to find so small a number of exceptions made to some of his disquisitions which lie out of the common road. That well-known chapter of Power has been termed the worst part of his whole Essay,* and seems indeed the least defensible, and what gave himself the least satisfaction, after all the pains he and others took to reform it ; [v. letters between him and Moly- neaux nnd Limborch. To which may be added note 45 to King^s Or. of E. p. 220, 4th edit.] which might induce one to believe that this most intricate subject is placed beyond human reach ; since so penetrating a genius confesses his inability to see through it. And happy arc those inquirers who can discern the extent of their faculties! who have learnt in time where to stop and suspend a positive determination ! " If you will argue," says he, " for or against liberty from consequences, I will not under- take to answer you ; for I freely own the weakness of my understanding ; that though it be unquestionable that there is omnipotence and omniscience in God our Maker, yet I cannot make freedom in man consistent with omnipotence and omni- science in God, though I am as fully persuaded of both as of any truths I most firmly assent to ; and therefore I have long left ofl' the consideration of that question, resolving all into this shorl Sir Isaac Newton had the very same sentiments with those of our author on the present subject, and more particularly on that, state to which he was approach- nig; as appears from a conversation held with him a little before his death; of which I have been informed by one who took down Sir Isaac's words at Ihe time, and since read them them to me. • Biogr, Brit, fhousrh others are pleased ttfstrlc it thefinejt, IS J'REFACE BY THE EDITOR. conclusion ; that if it be possible for God to make a free agem, then man is free ; though I see not the way of it." Letter to M. Jan. -20, 1692-3. 13. Connected in some sort with the fore-mentioned Essay, and in their way equally valuable, are his tracts on Education and the Early Conduct of the Understanding, both worthy, as we apprehend, of a more careful perusal than is commonly bestowed upon them, the latter more especially, which seems to be little known and less attended to. It contains an easy popu- lar illustration of some discoveries in the foregoing Essay, parti- cularly that great and universal law of nature, the support of so many mental powers, (v. g. that of memory under all its modifications) and Avhich produces equally remarkable effects in the intellectual, as that of gravitation does in the material world; < — I mean the association of ideas : the first hint whereof did not appear till the fourth edition of his Essay, and then came in as it were by the by, under some very peculiar circumstances, and in comparatively trivial instances ; the author himself seeming not to be sufficiently aware of its extensiveness, and the many uses to which it is applicable, and has been applied of late by several of our own writers. The former tract abounds with no less curious and entertaining than useful observations on the various tempers and dispositions of youth : with proper directions for the due regulation and improvement of them, and just remarks on the too visible defects in that point ; nor should it be looked upon as merely fitted for the instruction of schoolmasters, or nurses, but as affording matter of reflection to men of business science, and philosophy. The several editions of this treatise, which has been much esteemed by foreigners, with the additions made to it abroad, may be seen in Gen. Diet. Vol. VII. p. 145. 1 4. Thus much may serve to point out the importance of some of our author's more private and recluse studies ; but it was not in such only that this excellent person exercised his learning and abilities. The public rights of mankind, the great object of political union ; the authority, extent, and bounds of civil govern- ment in consequence of such union ; these were subjects which engaged, as they deserved, his most serious attention. Nor was he more industrious here in establishing sound principles, and pursuing them consistently, than firm and zealous in support of them, in the worst of times, to the injury of his fortune, and at the peril of his life, (as may be seen more fully in the life annex- ed ;) to which may be added that such zeal and firmness must appear in him the more meritorious, if joined with that timorous- ness and irresolution which is there observed to have been part of his natural temper, p. 21. Witness his famous letter from a Person of Quality, giving an account of the debates and resolu- tions in the house of lords concerning a bill for establishing pas- sive obedience, and enacting new oaths to enforce it : [V. Biogr. Brit. p. 2996. N. 1.] which letter^ together with some supposed I'RETACE BY THE EDITOR. J j communications to his patron Lord Shaftesbury, raised such a storm against him as drove him out of his own country, and long pursued him at a distance from it. [lb. p. 2997, &zc. from A. Wood.] This letter was at length treated in the same way that others of like tendency have been since, by men of the same spirit, who are ready to bestow a like treatment on the authors them- selves, whenever they can get them into their power. Nor will it be improper to remark how seasonable a recollection of Mr. Locke's political principles is now become, when several writers have attempted, from particular emergencies, to shake those universal and invariable truths whereon all just government is ultimately founded ; when they betray so gross an ignorance or contempt of them, as even to avow the directly opposite doctrines, viz. that government was instituted for the sake of governors, not of the governed ; and consequently that the interests of the former are of superior consideration to any of the latter ; — that there is an absolute indefeasible right of exercising despotism on one side, and as unlimited an obligation of submitting to it on the other ; ■ — doctrines that have been confuted over and over, and exploded long ago, and which one might well suppose Mr. Locke must have for ever silenced l>. I :s incomparable treatises upon that subject,* which have m leed exhausted it ; and notwithstanding any objections that have } xt been, or are likely to be brought against them, may, I apprehend, be fairly justified, and however unfashionable they' grow, continue fit : First published in 1698, tin; several additions to which (all, I believe, inserted in the subsequent editions.) remain under his own han ' in tUe library of Christ's College, Cambridge 14 1'ftEFACE BY THE EDITO'K. studied, together with both its Vindications, by all those who desire to entertain proper notions concerning the pure, primitive plan of Christ's religion, as laid down by himself ; where they will also meet with many just observations on our Saviour's admirable method of conducting it. Of this book, among other commendations, Limborch says, " Plus ver;e Theologian ex illo, quam ex operosis multorum Systematibus hausisse me ingenue fateor." Lett. \Iarch 23, 1697. In his Paraphrase and Notes upon the epistles of St. Paul, how fully does our author obviate the erroneous doctrines, (that of absolute reprobation in particular,) which had been falsely charged upon the apostle ! And to Mr. Locke's honour it should be remembered, that he was the first of our commentators who showed what it was to comment upon the apostolic writings : by taking the whole of an epistle together, and striking off every signification of every term foreign to the main scope of it; by peeping this point constantly in view, and carefully observing each return to it after any digression ; by tracing out a strict, though sometimes less visible, connexion in that very consistent writer, St. Paul ; touching the propriety and pertinence of whose wri- tings to their several subjects and occasions, he appears to have formed the most just conception, and thereby confessedly led the way to some of our best modern interpreters. Vide Pierce, pref. to Coloss. and Taylor on Rom. No. 60. I cannot dismiss this imperfect account of Mr. Locke and his works, without giving way to a painful reflection, which the consideration of them naturally excites. When we view the variety of those very useful and important subjects which have been treated in so able a manner by our author, and become sen- sible of the numerous national obligations due to his memory on that account, with what indignation must we behold the remains of that great and good man, lying under a mean mouldering tombstone, [which but too strictly verifies the prediction he had given of it and its little tablet, as ipsa brevi pcritura] in an obscure country churchyard — by the side of a forlorn wood — while so many superb monuments are daily erected to perpetuate names and characters hardly worth preserving ! Books and Treatises written, or supposed to be written, by Mr. Locke. Epistola dc Tolerantia. The History of our Saviour Jesus Christ. Select Books of the Old Testament and Apocrypha para- phrased. Introductory Discourse to Churchill's Collection of Voyages. Exceptions of Mr. Edwards to the Reasonableness of Chri«- tianity, &c. examined. PREFACE BY THE EDITOR. 1 ^ Piece* groundlessly ascribed, or of doubtful authority. Occasional Thoughts in reference to a virtuous and Christian Life. Discourse on the Love of God. Right method of searching after Truth. Spurious ones. Commonplace Book to the Bible. Interlineary version of iEsop's Fables. P.S. Having heard that some of Mr. Locke's MSS. were in the possession of those gentlemen to whom the library at Oates belonged, on application made to Mr. Palmer, he was so obliging as to offer that a search should be make after them, and orders given for communicating all that could be found there ; but as this notice comes unhappily too late to be made use of on the present occasion, I can only take the liberty of intimating it along with some other sources of intelligence, which I have endeavoured to lay open, and which may probably afford matter for a supplemental volume, as above mentioned. LIFE OF THE AUTHOK John Locke, one of the greatest philosophers and most valuable Writers who have adorned this country, was born at Wrington in Somersetshire, on the twenty-ninth of August, 1632. His father, who had been bred to the law, acted in the capacity of steward, or court-keeper, to colonel Alexander Popham ; and, upon the breaking out of the civil war, became a captain in the service of the parliament. He was a gentleman of strict probity and economy, and possessed of a handsome fortune : but, as it came much impaired into the hands of his son, it was probably injured through the misfortunes of the times. However, he took great pains in his son's education ; and though, while he was a child, he behaved towards him with great distance and severity, yet as he grew up, he treated him with more familiarity, till at length they lived together rather as friends, than as two per- sons, one of whom might justly claim respect from the other. When he was of a proper age, young Locke was sent to Westminster school .; where he continued till the year 1651 ; when he was entered a stu- dent of Christ-church college, in the university of Oxford. Here he so greatly distinguished himself by his application and proficiency, that he was considered to be the most ingenious young man in the college. But, though he gained such reputation, in the university, he was afterward often heard to complain of the little satisfaction which he had found in the method of study which had been pre- scribed to him, and of the little service which it had afforded him, in enlightening and enlarging his mind, or in making him more exact in his reasonings. For the only philosophy then taught at Oxford was the Peripatetic, perplexed with obscure terms, and encumbered with useless questions. The first books which gave him a relish for the study of philosophy, were the writings of Des Cartes ; for though he did not approve of all his notions, yet he found that he wrote with great perspicuity. Having taken his degree of B.A. in 1655, and that of M.A. in 1658, Mr. Locke for some time closely applied himself to the study of physic, going through the usual courses preparatory to the practice ; and it is said that he got some business in that pro- fession at Oxford. So great was the delicacy of his constitution, however, that he was not capable of a laborious application to the medical art ; and it is not improbable that his principal motive in studying it was, that he might be cpualified when necessary to act as his own physician, In the year 16(3-1, he accepted of an offer to go Vol. 1. 3 18 THE LIFE OP THE AUTHOR. abroad, in the capacity of secretary to Sir William Swan, who was appointed envoy from King Charles II. to the Elector of Branden- burgh, and some other German princes ; but returning to England again within less than a year, he resumed his studies at Oxford with renewed vigour, and applied himself particularly to natural philoso- phy. 'While he was at Oxford, in 1666, an accident introduced him to the acquaintance of Lord Ashley, afterward Earl of Shaftesbury. That nobleman, having been advised to drink the mineral waters at Astrop, for an abscess in his breast, wrote to Dr. Thomas, a physi- cian in Oxford, to procure a quantity of them to be in readiness against his arrival. Dr. Thomas, being obliged to be absent from home at that time, prevailed with his friend Mr. Locke to execute this commission. But it happening that the waters were not ready on the day after Lord Ashley's arrival through the fault of the person who had been sent for them, Mr. Locke found himself obliged to wait on his lordship, to make excuses for the disappointment. Lord Ashley received him with his usual politeness, and was satisfied with his apology. Upon his rising to go away, his lordship, who had received great pleasure from his conversation, detained him to sup- per, and engaged him to dinner on the following day, and even to drink the waters, that he might have the more of his company. When his lordship left Oxford to go to Sunning-hill, he made Mr. Locke pro- mise to visit him there ; as he did in the summer of the year 1667. Afterward Lord Ashley invited Mr. Locke to his house, and pre- vailed on him to take up his residence with him. Having now se- cured him as an inmate, Lord Ashley was governed entirely by his advice, in submitting to have the abscess in his breast opened ; by which operation his life was saved, though the wound was never closed. The success which attended this operation gave his lordship a high opinion of Mr. Locke's medical skill, and contributed to in- crease his attachment to him, notwithstanding that he regarded this as the least of his qualifications. Sensible that his great abilities were calculated to render him eminently serviceable to the world in other departments of knowledge, he would not suffer him to practise medicine out of his house, excepting among some of his particular friends ; and he urged him to apply his studies to state affairs, and political subjects, both ecclesiastical and civil. Mr. Locke's inclina- tion was not backward in prompting him to comply with his lordship's wishes ; and he succeeded so well in these studies, that Lord Ashley began to consult him upon all occasions. By his acquaintance with this nobleman, Mr. Locke was introduced to the conversation of the Duke of Buckingham, the Earl of Halifax, and other of the most eminent persons of that age, who were all charmed with his conversation. The freedom which he would take with men of that rank, had something in it very suitable to his cha- racter. One day, three or four of these lords having met at Lord Ashley's, when Mr. Locke was present, after some compliments, cards were brought in, before scarcely any conversation had passed between them. Mr. Locke looked on for some time while they were at play, and then, taking his pocket-book, began to write with great attention. At length, one of them had the curiosity to ask him what he was writing. " My lord," said he, '* I am endeavouring to THE LIFE 6E THH AUTHOR. 19 profit as far as I am able, in your company ; for having waited with impatience for the honour of being in an assembly of the greatest geniuses of the age, and having at length obtained this good fortune, 1 thought that I could not do better than write down your conversa- tion ; and, indeed, 1 have set down the substance of what has been said for this hour or two." Mr. Locke had no occasion to read much of what he had written : those noble persons saw the ridicule, and diverted themselves with improving the jest. For, immediately quitting their play, they entered into rational conversation, and spent the remainder of the day in a manner more suitable to their charac- ter. In the year 1668, at the request of the Earl and Countess of Northumberland, Mr. Locke accompanied them in a tour to France, and staid in that country with the countess, while the earl went to- wards Italy, with an intention of visiting Rome. But this nobleman dying on his journey at Turin, the countess came back to England sooner than was at first designed, and Mr. Locke with her, who con- tinued to reside, as before, at Lord Ashley's. That nobleman, who was then chancellor of the exchequer, having, in conjunction with other Lords, obtained a grant of Carolina, employed Mr. Locke to draw up the fundamental constitutions of that province. In executing this task, our author had formed articles relative to religion, and pub- lic worship, on those liberal and enlarged principles of toleration, which were agreeable to the sentiments of his enlightened mind ; but some of the clergy, jealous of such provisions as might prove an obstacle to their ascendancy, expressed their disapprobation of them, and procured an additional article to be inserted, securing the counte- nance and support of the state only to the exercise of religion ac- cording to the discipline of the established church. Mr. Locke still retained his student's place at Christ-church, and made frequent visits to Oxford, for the sake of consulting books in the prosecution of his studies, and for the benefit of change of air. At Lord Ashley's he inspected the education of his Lordship's only son, who was then about sixteen years of age ; and executed that province with the greatest care, and to the entire satisfaction of his noble patron. As the young lord was but of a weakly constitution, his father thought proper to marry him early, lest the family should become extinct by his death. And since he was too young, and had too little experience to choose a wife for himself, and Lord Ashley had the highest opinion of Mr. Locke's judgment, as well as the greatest confidence in his integrity, hedesired him to make a suitable choice for his son. This was a difficult and delicate task: for though Lord Ashley did not in- sist on a great fortune for his son, yet he would have him marry a lady of good family, an agreeable temper, a fine person, and, above all, of good education and good understanding, whose conduct would be very different from that of the generality of court ladies. Not- withstanding the difficulties attending such a commission, Mr. Locke undertook it, and executed it very happily. The eldest son by this marriage, afterward the noble author of the Characteristics, was committed to the care of Mr. Locke in his education, and gave evi- dence to the world of the master-hand which had directed and guided his genius. In 1670. and in the following vear, Mr. Locke began to form the 20 THE LIFE OP THE AUTHOR. plan of his Essay on Human Understanding, at the earnest request of some of his friends, who were accustomed to meet in his chamber, for the purpose of conversing on philosophical subjects ; but the employments and avocations which were found for him by his patron, would not then suffer him to make any great progress in that work. About this time, it is supposed, he was made fellow of the Royal So- ciety. In 1672, Lord Ashley having been created Earl of Shaftesbury, and raised to the dignity of lord high chancellor of England, appoint- ed Mr. Locke secretary of the presentations ; but he held that place only till the end of the following year, when the earl was obliged to resign the great seal. His dismissal was followed by that of Mr. Locke, to whom the earl had communicated his most secret affairs, and who contributed towards the publication of some treatises, which were intended to excite the nation to watch the conduct of the Ro- man Catholics, and to oppose the arbitrary designs of the court. After this his lordship, who was still president of the Board of Trade, appointed Mr. Locke secretary to the same ; which office he retained not long, the commission being dissolved in the year 1674. In the following year, he was admitted to the degree of bachelor of physic ; and it appears that he continued to prosecute this study, and to keep up his acquaintance with several of the faculty. In what reputation he was held by some of the most eminent of them, we may judge from the testimonial that was given of him by the celebrated Dr. Sy- denham, in his book, entitled, Observationes Medicae, circa Morborum Acutorum Historiam et Curationem, &c. " You know likewise," says he, " how much my method has been approved of by a person who has examined it to the bottom, and who is our common friend, I mean Mr. John Locke, who, if we consider his genius, and pene- trating and exact judgment, or the strictness of his morals, has scarcely any superior, and few equals now living." In the summer of 1675, Mr. Locke being apprehensive of a consumption, travelled into France, and resided for some time at Montpelier, where he be- came acquainted with Mr. Thomas Herbert, afterward Earl of Pem- broke, to whom he communicated his design of writing his Essay on Human Understanding. From Montpelier he went to Paris, where he contracted a friendship with M. Justel, the celebrated civilian, whose house was at that time the place of resort for men of letters ; and where a familiarity commenced between him and several other persons of eminent learning. In 1679, the Earl of Shaftesbury being again restored to favour at court, and made president of the council, sent to request that Mr. Locke would return to England, which he accordingly did. Within six months, however, that noble- man was again displaced, for refusing his concurrence with the de- signs of the court, which aimed at the establishment of popery and arbitrary power ; and, in 1602, he was obliged to retire to Holland, to avoid a prosecution for high treason, on account of pretended crimes of which he was accused. Mr. Locke remained steadily attached to his patron, following him into Holland ; and upon his lord- ship's death, which happened soon afterward, he did not think it safe to return to England, where his intimate connexion with Lord Shaftes- bury had created him some powerful and malignant enemies. Be- fore he had been a vear in Holland, he was accused at the English THE LIFE OP THE AUTHOR^ 21 court of being the author of certain tracts which had been published against the government ; and, notwithstanding that another person was soon afterward discovered to be the writer of them, yet as he was observed to join in company at the Hague with several English- men who were the avowed enemies of the system of politics on which the English court now acted, information of this circumstance was conveyed to the Earl of Sunderland, then secretary of state. This intelligence Lord Sunderland communicated to the king, who immediately ordered that Bishop Fell, then dean of Christ-church, should receive his express command to eject Mr. Locke from his student's place, which the bishop executed accordingly. After this violent procedure of the court against him in England, he thought it prudent to remain in Holland, where he was at the accession of King James II. Soon after that event, William Penn, the famous quaker, who had known Mr. Locke at the university, used his interest with the king to procure a pardon for him ; and would have obtained it, had not Mr. Locke declined the acceptance of such an offer, nobly observing, that he had no occasion for a pardon, since he had not been guilty of any crime. In the year 1685, when the Duke of Monmouth and his party were making preparations in Holland for his rash and unfortunate enter- prise, the English envoy at the Hague demanded that Mr. Locke, with several others, should be delivered up to him, on suspicion of his being engaged in that undertaking. And though this suspicion was not only groundless, but without even a shadow of probability, it obliged him to lie concealed nearly twelve months, till it was suffi- ciently known that he had no concern whatever in that business. Toward the latter end of the yenr 1686, he appeared again in pub- lic ; and in the following year formed a literary society at Amster- dam, of which Liniborch, Le Clerc, and other learned men, were members, who met together weekly for conversation upon subjects of universal learning. About the end of the year 1687, our author finished the composition of his great work, the Essay concerning Human Understanding, which had been the principal object of his attention for some years ; and that the public might be apprised of the outlines of his plan, he made an abridgment of it himself, vwhich his friend Le Clerc translated into French, and inserted in one of his *' Bibliotheques." This abridgment was so highly approved of by all thinking persons, and sincere lovers of truth, that they expressed the strongest desire to see the whole work. During the time of his concealment, he wrote his first Letter concerning Toleration, in Latin, which was first printed at Gouda, in 1689, under the title cf Epistola de Tolerantia, &.c. 1 2mo. This excellent performance, which has ever since been held in the highest esteem by the best judges, was translated into Dutch and French, in the same year, and was -A will in all voluntary action*. This 1 oS THE EPISTLE TO THE READER. cannot forbear to acknowledge to the world with as much free dom and readiness, as I at first published what then seemed to me to be right 5 thinking myself more concerned to quit and renounce any opinion of my own. than oppose that of another, when truth appears against it. For it is truth alone I seek, and that will always be welcome to me, when or from whence soever it comes. But what forwardness soever I have to resign any opinion I have, or to recede from any thing I have writ upon the first evi- dence of any error in it ; yet this I must own, that 1 have not had the good luck to receive any light from those exceptions I have met with in print against any part of my book ; nor have, from any thing that has been urged against it, found reason to alter my sense in any of the points that have been questioned. Whether the subject 1 have in hand requires often more thought and attention than cursory readers, at least such as are prepos- sessed, are willing to allow ; or whether any obscurity in my expression casts a cloud over it, and these notions are made difficult to others' apprehensions in my way of treating them ; so it is, that my meaning, 1 find, is often mistaken, and I have not the good luck to be every where rightly understood. There are so many instances of this, that 1 think it justice to my reader and myself to conclude, that either my book is plainly enough writ- ten to be rightly understood by those who peruse it with that attention and indifferency, which every one who will give him- self the pains to read, ought to employ in reading ; or else, that I have writ mine so obscurely, that it is in vain to go about to mend it. Whichever of these be the truth, it is myself only am affected thereby, and therefore i shall be far from troubling my reader with what I think might be said, in answer to those several objections I have met with to passages here and there of my book •, since 1 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 came both to be well understood. If any, careful that none of their good thoughts should be lost, have published their censures of my Essay, with this honour done to it, that they will not suffer it to be an Essay ; I leave it to the public to value the obligation they have to their critical pens, and shall not waste my reader's time in so idle or ill-natu- red an employment of mine, as to lessen the satisfaction any one has in himself, or gives to others in so hasty a confutation of what I have written. The booksellers preparing for the fourth edition of my Essay, gave me notice of it, that I might, if I had leisure, make any additions or alterations I should think fit. Whereupon I thought it convenient to advertise the reader, that besides several cor- rections I had made here and there, there was one altera* i^r- 1HE EPISTLE TO THE REABEIU which it was necessary to mention, because it ran through the ■whole book, and is of consequence to be rightly understood. What I thereupon said was this : Clear and distinct ideas are terms, which, though familiar and frequent in men's mouths, I have reason to think every one, who uses, does not perfectly understand. And possibly 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 precisely mean by them : I have therefore in most places chose to put determinate or determined, instead of clear and distinct, as more likely to direct men's thoughts to my meaning in this matter. By those denomi- nations, 1 mean some object in the mind, and consequently de- termined, i. e. such as it is there seen and perceived to be. This, I think, may fitly be called a determinate or determined idea, when such as it ia at any time objectively in the mind, and so determined there, it is annexed, and without variation determined to a name or articulate sound, which is to be steadily the iign of that very same object of the mind or determinate idea. To explain this a little more particularly. By determinate, when applied to a simple idea, I mean that simple appearance which the mind has in its view, or perceives in itself, when that idea is said to be in it : by determinate, when applied to a com- plex idea, 1 mean such an one as consists of a determinate num- ber 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, not 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 wantof this is the cause of no small obscurity and confusion in men's thoughts and discourses. I know there are not words enough in any language to answer all the variety of ideas that enter into men's discourses and reasonings. But this hinders not, but that when any one uses any term, he may have in his mind a determined idea, which he makes it the sign of, and to which he should keep it steadily annexed, during that present discourse. Where he does not, or cannot do this, he in vain pretends to clear or distinct ideas : it is plain his are not so ; and therefore there can be expected nothing but obscurity and confusion, where such terms are made use of, which have not such a precise determination. Upon this ground I have thought determined ideas a way of speaking less liable to mistakes, than clear and distinct ; and where men have got such determined ideas of all that they reason, inquire, or argue about, they will find a great part of their doubts and disputes at an end. The greatest part of the ques- tions and controversies that perplex mankind, depending on the doubtful and uncertain use of words, or (which is the same'} ^{J iHE EIMSTLE TO THE READER. indetermined ideas, which they are made to stand for ; I have made choice of these terms to signify, 1 . Some immediate object of the mind, which it perceives and has before it, distinct from the sound it uses as a sign of it. 2. That this idea, thus determined, i. e. which the mind has in itself, and knows and sees there, be determined without any change to that name, and that name- determined to that precise idea. If men had such determined ideas in their inquiries and discourses, they would both discern how far their own inquiries and discourses went, and avoid the greatest part of the disputes and wranglings they have with others. Besides this, the bookseller will think it necessary I should advertise the reader, that there is an addition of two chapters wholly new ; the one of the association of ideas, the other oi 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 21st 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. CONTENTS OF VOLUME I BOOK 1. OF INNATE NOTIONS CHAPTER I. 77te Introduclio?i. Sect. 1. An inquiry into the understanding, pleasant and useful. 2. Design. 3. Method. 4. Useful to know the extent of our comprehension. 5. Our capacity proportioned to our state and concerns, to discover things useful to us. 6. Knowing the extent of our capaci- ties will hinder us from useless cu- riosity, skepticism, and idleness. 7. Occasion of this essay. 3. What idea stands for. CHAPTER II. •TV o innate speculative principles. Sect. 1. The way shown how we come by any knowledge, sufficient to prove it not innate. 2. General assent, the great argument. 3. Universal consent proves nothing in- nate. 4. What is, is ; and it is impossible for the same thing to be, and not to be ; not universally assented to. 5. Not on the mind naturally imprinted, because not known to children, idiots, ice. G, 7. That men know them when they come to the use of reason, answered. 8. If reason discovered them, that tvould not prove them innate. 9-11. It is false that reason discovers them. 12. The coming to the use of reason, not the time we come to know these maxims. 13. By this they are not distinguished from other knowable truths. 14. If coming to the use of reason were the time of their discovery > it would not prove them innate. 15. 16. The steps by which the mind at- tains several truths. 17. Assenting as soon as proposed and understood, proves them not innate. 1 0. If such an assent be a mark of innate, then that one and two are equal to Vol. I. three ; that sweetness is not bitter- ness ; and a thousand the like, mast be innate. 19. Such lessgeneral propositionsknown before these universal maxims. 20. One and one equal to two, 6cc. not general nor useful, answered. 21. These maxims not being known sometimes till proposed, proves them not innate. 22. Implicitly known before proposing, signifies that the mind is capable ol" understanding them, or else signifies nothing. 23. The argument of assenting on first hearing is upon a false supposition of no precedent teaching. 24. Not innate, because not universally assented to. 25. These maxims not the first known. 26. And so not innate. 27. Not innate, because they appear least, where what is innate shows itself clearest. 28. Recapitulation. CHAPTER III. J\"o innate practical principles. Sect. 1. No moral principles so clear and so generally received as the fore-men- tioned speculative maxims. 2. Faith and j ustice not owned as prin- ciples by all men. 3. Obj. Though men deny them in their practice, yet they admit them in their thoughts, answered. 4. Moral rules need a proof, ergo, not innate. ~>. Instance in keeping compacts. 6. Virtue generally approved, not be- cause innate, but because profitable. 7. Men's actions convince us, that the rule of virtue is not their internal principle. 8. Conscience no proof of any innate moral rule. 9. Instances of enormities practised without remorse. 10. Men have contrary practical princi- ples. 11 — 13. "Whole nations reject several moral rules. 14. Those who maintain innate pracft'i At CONTENTS. cal principles, tell us not what they are. 13-19. Lord Herbert's innate princi- ples examined. 20. Obj. Innate principles may be cor- rupted, answered. 21. Contrary principles in the world. 22-26. How men commonly come by their principles. 27. Principles must be examined. CHAPTER IV. Other considerations about innate princi- ples, both speculative and practical. Sect. 1. Principles not innate, unless their ideas be innate. 2, 3. Ideas, especially those belonging to principles, not born with children. 4,5. Identity, an idea not innate. 6. Whole and part, not innate ideas. 7. Idea of worship not innate. ' m. idea nf Gred, not innate. 12. Suitable to God"s goodness, that all men should have an idea of him. therefore naturally imprinted by him, answered. 13-16. Ideas of God various in differ- ent men. 17. If the idea of God be not innate, no other can be supposed innate. Idea of substance not innate. No propositions can be innate, since no ideas are innate. No ideas are remembered, till after they have been introduced. Principles not innate, because of little use, or little certainty. Difference of men's discoveries de- pends upon the different applica- tions of their faculties. Men must think and know for themselves. Whence the opinion of innate prir ciples. Conclusion. 18. 19. '20 21 22 23 24 BOOK II OF IDEAS. Sec 1. 4. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. f CHAPTER I. Of Ideas in genera/. r. Idea is the object of thinking. All ideas come from sensation or reflection. The objects of sensation one source of ideas. The operations of our minds, the other source of them. All our ideas are of the one or the other of these. Observable in children. Men are differently furnished with these, according to the different ob- jects they converse with. Ideas of reflection later, because they need attention. The soul begins to have ideas when it begins to perceive. The soul thinks not always; for this wants proofs. It is not always conscious of it. If a sleeping man thinks without knowing it,the sleeping and waking man are two persons. Impossible to convince those that sleep without dreaming, that they link. \t men dream without remem- it, in vain urged. 15. Upon this hypothesis, the thought* of a sleeping man ought to be most rational. 16. On this hypothesis the soul must have ideas not derived from sensa- tion or reflection, of which there is no appearance. 17. If I think when I know it not, no- body else can know it. IS. How knows any one that the soul always thinks ? For if it be not a self-evident proposition, it neecV proof. 19, That a man should be busy in thinking, and yet not retain it the next moment, very improbable. 20-23. No ideas but from sensation or reflection, evident, if we observe children. 21. The original of all our knowledge. 23. In the reception of simple ideas the understanding is most of all pas- sive. CHAPTER 11 Of simple ideas. Sect. 1. Uncompounded appearances. 2,3. The mind can neither make so* de'trov them. CONTENTS. i" » CHAPTER III. Of ideas of one sense. Sect. 1. As colours, of seeing; sounds, of hearing'. Q. Few simple ideas have names. CHAPTER IV. Of Solidifi/. Sect. 1 . We receive this idea from touch. 2. Solidity fills space. 3. Distinct from space. 4. From hardness. 5. On solidity depend impulse, resis- tance, and protrusion. S. What it is. CHAPTER V. Of simple ideas by more than one sense. CHAPTER VI. Of simple ideas of reflection. >ECT. 1 . Simple ideas are the operations of the mind about its other ideas. 2. The idea of perception, and idea of willing, we have from reflection. CHAPTER VII. (>/" simple ideas, both of sensation and reflection. Sect. 1-6. Pleasure and pain. 7. Existence and unit v. 3. Power. 9. Succession. 10. Simple ideas, the materials of all our knowledge. CHAPTER VIII. Other considerations concerning simple ideas. Sect. 1-6. Positive ideas from privative causes. 7, 3. Ideas in the mind, qualities in bodies. 9, 10. Primary and secondary quali- ties. 11, 12. How primary qualities produce f ! ^ ir ideas. 13, 14. How secondary. 15-23. Ideas of primary qualities, are resemblances ; of secondary, not. 24, 25. Reasou of our mistake in this. 26. Secondary qualities two-fold; first, immediately perceivable; secondly, .•nnliatelypercei- ' ' CHAPTER IX. Of Perception, Sect. 1. It is the first simple idea of reflec- tion. 2-4. Perception is only when the mind receives the impression. 5, 6. Children, though they have ideas in the womb, have none innate. 7. Which ideas first, is not evident. G-10. Ideas of sensation often changed by the judgment. 11-14. Perception puts the difference between animals and inferior beings. 15. Perception the inlet of knowledge, CHAPTER X. fcEC 1. 4,5. 6. !*• 8,9. 10. Of Retention. r. Contemplation. Memory. Attention, repetition, pleasure, and pain, fix ideas. Ideas fade in the memory. Constantly repeated ideas can scarce be lost. In remembering, the mind is often active. Two defeat.-: Li the memory, obli- vion and slowness. Brutes have memory, CHAPTER XL Of Discerning, fyc. 1. No knowledge without it. 2. The difference of wit and judgment. 3. Clearness alone hinders confusion. -I. Comparing. .5. Brutes compare but imperfectly. C. Compounding. 7. Brutes compound but little. 3. Naming 9. Abstraction. * 10, 11. Brutes abstract not. 12, 13. Idiots and madmen. 14. Method. 15. These are the beginnings of Hu- man knowledge. 16. Appeal to experience. 17. Dark room. CHAPTER XII. Of complex idea'i. Sect. 1. Made by lire mind out of simple ones. 2. Made voluntarily. J. Are either modes, substa.li' ■ relations. 44 CONTENTS. 4. Modes. 5. Simple and mixed modes. 6. Substances single or collective. 7. Relation. 8. The abstrusest ideas from the two sources. CHAPTER XIII. Of space and its simple modes. Sect. 1. Simple modes. 2. Idea of space. 3. Space and extension, 4. Immensity. 5,6. Figure. 7-10. Place. 11-14. Extension and body not the same. 15. The definition of extension, or of space, does not explain it. 16. Division of beings into bodies and spirits proves not body and space the same. 17. 18. Substance, which we know not, no proof against space without body. 19, 20. Substance and accidents of little use in philosophy. 21; A vacuum beyond the utmost bounds of body. 22. The power of annihilation proves a vacuum. 23. Motion proves a vacuum. 24. The ideas of space and body dis- tinct. 25. 26. Extension, being inseparable from body, proves it not the same. 2"?. Ideas of space and solidity distinct. 28. Men differ little in clear simple ideas. CHAPTER XIV. Of Duration and its simple modes. Sect. 1. Duration is fleeting extension. 2-4. Its idea from reflection on the train of our ideas. 5. The idea of duration applicable to things while we sleep. 6-8. The idea of succession not from motion. 9 — 11. The train of ideas has a certain degree of quickness. 12. This train, the measure of other successions. 13 — 15. The mind cannot fix long on one invariable idea. 16. Ideas, however made, include no sense of motion. 17. Time is duration set out by mea- sures. If!. A good measure of time must di- vide its whole duration into equal periods. 19. The revolutions of the sun and moon the properest measures of time. 20. But not by their motion, but pe- riodical appearances. 21. No two parts of duration can be certainly known to be equal. 22. Time not the measure of motion. 23. Minutes, hours, and years not ne- cessary measures of duration. 24-26. Our measure of time applica- ble to duration before time. 27-30. Eternity. CHAPTER XV. Of Duration and Expansion co7isidered together. Sect. 1 . Both capable of greater and less- 2. Expansion not bounded by matte i . 3. Nor duration by motion. 4. Why men more easily admit infi- nite duration than infinite expan- sion. 5. Time to duration is as place to ex- pansion. 6. Time and place are taken for so much of either as are set out by the existence and motion of bodies. 7. Sometimes for so much of either as we design by measure taken from the bulk or motion of bodies. 8. They belong to all beings. 9. All the parts of extension are ex- tension ; and all the parts of dura- tion are duration. 10. Their parts inseparable. 11. Duration is as a line, expansion as a solid. 52. Duration has never two parts to- gether, expansion all together, CHAPTER XVI. Of Number. r. Number, the simplest and most universal idea. Its modes made by addition. Each mode distinct. Therefore demonstrations in num- bers the most precise. Names necessary to numbers. Why children number not earlier. 8. Number measures all measurable?, CHAPTER XVII. Of Infinity. Sect. 1. Infinity, in its original intentions attributed to space, duration- and number. Sec 1. >,& CONTENTS, 4o 2. The idea ol' finite easily got. 3. How we come by the idea of infi- nity. 4. Our idea of space boundless. 5. And so of duration. 6. Why other ideas are not capable of infinity. 7. Difference between infinity of space and space infinite. 8. We have no idea of infinite space. 9. Number affords us the clearest idea of infinity. 10, 11. Our different conception of the infinity of number, duration, and expansion. 12. Infinite divisibility. 13, 14. No positive idea of infinity. 15, 16. What is positive, what negative, in our idea of infinite. 16, 17. We have no positive idea of infinite duration. 18. No positive idea of infinite space. 20. Some think they have a positive idea of eternity, and not of infinite space. 21. Supposed positive idea of infinity, cause of mistakes. 22. All these ideas from sensation and reflection. CHAPTER XVIII. Of other simple modes. Sect. 1,2. Modes of motion. 3. Modes of sounds. 4. Modes of colours. 5. Modes of tastes and smells. 6. Some simple modes have no names. 7. Why some modes have, and others have not names. CHAPTER Xl\. Of the modes of thinking. Sect. 1,2. Sensation, remembrance, contem- plation, &c. 3. The various attention of the mind in thinking. 4. Hence it is probable that thinking is the action, not essence of the -oul. CHAPTER XX. Of modes of pleasure and pain. Sect. 1. Pleasure and pain simple ideas. 2. Good and evil, what. J. Our passions moyed by good and evil. 4. Love. 5. Hatred. f>, Desire. 9. 10. 11. 7. Joy. 8. SorroWi 9. Hope. 10. Fear. 11. Despair. 12. Anger. 13. Envy. 14. What passions all men have. 15. 16. Pleasure and pain, what. 17. Shame. 18. These instances do show how our ideas of the passions are got from sensation and reflection. CHAPTER XXI. Of Poiver. ^ECT. 1. This idea how got. 2. Power active and passive. 3. Power includes relation. 4. The clearest idea of active power had from spirit. 5. Will and understanding two pow- ers. 6. Faculties. 7. Whence the ideas of liberty and. necessity. 8. Liberty, what. Supposes understanding and will. Belongs not to volition. Voluntary opposed to involuntary, not to necessary. 12. Liberty, what. 13. Necessity, what. 14-20. Liberty belongs not to the will . 21. But to the agent or man. 22-24. In respect of willing, a man is not free. 25-27. The will determined by some- thing without it. 28. Volition, what. 29. What determines the will. 30. Will and desire must not be cou ■ founded. 31. Uneasiness determines the will. 32. Desire is uneasiness. 33. The uneasiness of desire determine- the will. This the spring of action. The greatest positive good deter- mines not the will, but uneasiness. Because the removal of uneasiness is the first step to happiness. Because uneasiness alone is present . 38. Because all, who allow the joys ol heaven possible, pursue them not. But a great uneasiness is never neglected. 39. Desire accompanies all uneasiness. 40. The most pressing uneasiness na- turally determines the will. 41. All desire happiness. 42. Happiness, whaL 13. What good is desire,d. what not. 14. 16. 37. 46 CONTENTS. 44. Why the greatest good is not al- ways desired. 45. Why, not being desired, it moves not the -\vilL 46. Due consideration raises desire. 47. The power to suspend the prosecu- tion of any desire, makes way for consideration. 43. To be determined by our own judgment is no restraint to liberty. 49. The freest agents are so deter mined. 50. A constant determination to a pur- suit of happiness no abridgment of liberty. 5 1 . The necessity of pursuing true hap- piness the foundation of all liberty. 52. The reason of it. 53. Government of our passions the right improvement of liberty. 54, 55. How men come to pursue dif- ferent courses. 56. How men come to choose ill. 57. First, from bodily pains. Second- ly, from wrong desires arising from wrong judgment. 53,59. Our judgment of present good or evil always right. 60. From a wrong judgment of what makes a necessary part of their happiness. 61, 62. A more particular account of wrong judgments. 63. In comparing present and future. 64, 65. Causes of this. 66. In considering consequences of ac- tions. 67. Causes of this. 68. Wrong judgment of what is neces- sary to our happiness. 69. We can change the agreeablenes3 or disagreeableness in things. 70. Preference of vice to virtue, a manifest wrong judgment. Tl-TS. Recapitulation. CHAPTER XXII. -re 1. 9. 10. Of mixed modes. p. Mixed modes, what. Made by the mind. Sometimes got by the explication of their names. The name ties the parts of the mix- ed modes into one idea. The cause of making mixed modes. Why words in one language have none answering in another. And languages change. Mixed modes, where they exist. How we get the ideas of mixed modes. Motion, thinking, and powe ■ have been mn«t. modified*. 11. Several words seeming to sigm'iy action, signify but the effect 12. Mixed modes made also of other ideas. CHAPTER XXIII. Of the complex ideas of substances. Sect. 1. Ideas of substances, how made. 2. Our idea of substance in general. 3,6. Of the sorts of substances. 4. No clear idea of substance in gene- ral. 5. As clear an idea of spirit as body 7. Powers a great part of our com- plex idea of substances. 8. And why. 9. Three sorts of ideas make our com- plex ones of substances. 10. Powers make a great part of our complex ideas of substances. 11. The now secondary qualities of bodies would disappear, if we could discover the primary ones of their minute parts. 12. Our faculties of discovery suited to our state. 13. Conjecture about spirits. 14. Complex ideas of substance. 15. Idea of spiritual substances as clear as of bodily substances. 16. No idea of abstract substance. 17. The cohesion of solid parts, and impulse, the primary ideas of body. 18. Thinking and motivity the prima- ry ideas of spirit. 19-21. Spirits capable of motion. 22. Idea of soul and body compared. 23-27. Cohesion of solid parts in bodv, as hard to be conceived as think- ing in a soul. 28, 29. Communication of motion by- impulse, or by thought, equally in- telligible. 30. Ideas of body and spirit compared 31. The notion of spirit involves n<> more difficulty in it than that of body. 32. We know nothing beyond on simple ideas. 33-35. Idea of God. 36. No ideas in our complex one of spirits, but those got from sensation or reflection. 37. Recapitulation. CHAPTER XXIV. Of collective ideas of substances. Sect. 1. One idea. 2. Made by the power of composing in the mind. 3. All artificial things are collectivf ; i,,.,,- CONTENTS. r, CHAPTER XXV. Of Relation. Sect. 1. Relation, what. 2. Relations, without correlative terms, not easily perceived. 3. Some seemingly absolute terms contain relations. 4. Relation different from the things related. 5. Change of relation may be without any change in the subject. 6. Relation only betwixt two things. 7. All things capable of relation. 8. The ideas of relation clearer often, than of the subjects related. 9. Relations all terminate in simple ideas. 10. Terms leading the mind beyond the subjects denominated, are rela- tive. 11. Conclusion. CHAPTER XXVI. Of cause and effect, and other relations. Sect. 1 . W hence their ideas got. % Creation, generation, making al- teration. .1,4. Relations of time. 5. Relations of place and extension. 6. Absolute terms often stand for re- lations. CHAPTER XXVII. Of identity and diversity. Sect. 1. Wherein identity consists. 2. Identity of substances. Identity of modes. 3. Principium individuationis. 4. Identity of vegetables, 5. Identity of animals. 6. Identity of man. 7. Identity suited to the idea. 8. Same man. 9. Personal identity. 10. Consciousness makes personal iden- tity. 1 1 Personal identity in change of sub- stances. 12-15. Whether in the change of thinking substances. 16. Con'soiop&ess makes the same person. 17. Self depends on consciousness. 18-20. Objects of reward and punish- ment 21, 22. Difference between identity of man and person. 33-25. Consciousness alnno makes self. 26, 27. Person a forensic term. 28. The difficulty from ill use of name?. 29. Continued existence makes iden- tity. CHAPTER XXVIII. Of other relation?. Sect. 1. Proportional. 2. Natural. 3. Instituted. 4. Moral. 5. Moral good and evil. 6. Moral rules. 7. Laws. 8. Divine law, the measure of sin and duty. 9. Civil law, the measure of crimes and innocence. 10, 11. Philosophical law, the measure of virtue and vice. 12. Its enforcements, commendation, and discredit. 13. These three laws the rules of mo- ral good and evil. 14, 15. Moralityis the relation of action- to these rules. 16. The denominations of actions often mislead us. 17. Relations innumerable. 18. All relations terminate in simple ideas. 19. We have ordinardy as clear (or clearer) notions of the relation, as of its foundation. 20. The notion of the relation is the same, whether the rule, any action is compared to, be true or false. CHAPTER XXIX. Of clear arid distinct, obscure and con- fused ideas. Sect. 1. Ideas,some clear and distinct, others obscure and confused. 2. Clear and obscure, explained bv sight. 3. Causes of obscurity. 4. Distinct and confused, what. 5. Objection. 6. Confusion of ideas is in reference to their names. 7. Defaults which make confusion. First, complex ideas nmde up of too few simple ones. 8. Secondly, or its simple ones jum- bled disorderly together. 9. Thirdly, or are mutable or unde- termined. 10. Confusion, without reference (.. names, hardly conceivable. 11. Confusion concerns alwavx two ideas. 48 CONTENTS, 12. Causes of confusion. ] 3. Complex ideas may be distinct in one part, and confused in another. 14. This, if not heeded, causes confu- sion in our arguings. 15. Instance in eternity. 16. Divisibility of matter. CHAPTER XXX. Of real and fantastical ideas. Sect. 1 . Real ideas are conformable to their archetypes. 2. Simple ideas all real. 3. Complex ideas are voluntary com- binations. 4. Mixed modes, made of consistent ideas, are real. 5. Ideas of substances are real, when they agree with the existence of things. CHAPTER XXXI. Of adequate and inadequate ideas. Bkct. 1 . Adequate ideas are such as perfect- ly represent their archetypes. 2. Simple ideas all adequate. 3. Modes are all adequate. 4,5. Modes, in reference to settled names, may be inadequate. 6,7. Ideas of substances, as referred to real essences, not adequate. 3-11. Ideas of substances, as collec- tions of their qualities, are all in- adequate. 12. Simple ideas ttnwrdL, and adequate. 13. Ideas of substances are iKru?ra., and inadequate. 14. Ideas of modes and relations are archetypes, and cannot but be ade- quate. CHAPTER XXXII. Of true and false ideas. Sect. 1. Truth and falsehood properly be- longs to propositions. 2. Metaphysical truth contains a tacit proposition. 3. No idea, as an appearance in the mind, true or false. 4. Ideas referred to any thing, may be true or false. Q. Other men's ideas, real existence, and supposed real essence?, are what men usually refer their idea? to. 6-3. The cause of such references. 9. Simple ideas may be false in refer- ence to others of the same name, but are least liable to be so. 10. Ideas of mixed modes most liable to be false in this sense. 11. Or at least to be thought false. 12. And why. 13. As referred to real existences, none of our ideas can be false, but those of substances. 14. 16. First, simple ideas in this sense not false, and why. 15. Though one man's idea of blue should be different from another's . 17. Secondly, modes not false. 18. Thirdly, ideas of substances, when false. 19. Truth or falsehood always sup- poses affirmation or negation. 20. Ideas in themselves neither true nor false. 21. But are false, first, when judged agreeable to another man's idea, without being so. 22. Secondly, when judged to agree to real existence, when they do not. 23. Thirdly, when judged adequate without being so. 24. Fourthly, when judged to repre- sent the real essence. 25. Ideas, when false. 26. More properly to be called right or wrong. 27. Conclusion. CHAPTER XXXIII. Of the association of ideas. Sect. . 1. Something unreasonable in most men. 2. Not wholly from self-love. 3. Nor from education. 4. A degree of madness. 5. From a wrong connexion of ideas, 6. This connexion how made. 7, 8. Some antipathies an effect of it. 9. A great cause of errors. 10-12. Instances. 13. Why time cures some disorders in the mind, which reason cannot. 14-16. Farther instances of the effects of the association of ideas. 17. Its influence on intellectual habit?, 18. Observable in different sects. 19. Conclusion. • ii.Mt.M;. IM BOOK III. o.F WORD? UiAPTERL Uj t words or language in general. SECT. 1. Man fitted to form articulate sounds, 2. To make them signs of ideas. 3, 4. To make general signs. 5. Words ultimately derived from such as signify sensible idea?, 6. Distribution. CHAPTER II. Of the signification of words. -*;ct. 1 . Words are sensible signs necessary for communication. 2, 3. Words are the sensible signs of his ideas who uses them. 4, Words often secretly referred, fust, to the ideas in other men's minus. 5. Secondly, to the reality of things. <>. Words by use readily excite ideas. 7. Words often used without signifi- cation. I . Their signification perfectly arbi- *cary. CIIAFTERIIf. Of general terms, ii.i i . 1. The greatest part of words u> ue ral. 2. For every particular thingtohave a name, is impossible. .1.4. And useless. 5. What things have proper names. 6-8. How general words are made. 9. General natures are nothing but abstract ideas. 10. Why the genus is ordinarily made use of in definitions. 1 1 . General and universal are crea- tures of the understanding. 12. Abstract ideas are the essences of the genera and species. ;. They are the workmanship of the understanding, but have their si- militude in the foundation of tilings. 14. Each distinct abstract idea is a distinct essence. ;. Real and nominal essence. 16. Constant connexion between the name and nominal essence. 17. Supposition, that species arc dis- tinguished by their real essences, useless. Vol, I, 7 18. Realand nominal essence the same in simple ideas and modes, differ- ent in substances. 13. Essences ingenerable and incor- ruptible. 20. Recapitulation. CHAPTER IV. Of the names of .nmnlc idea* Sect. 1 . Names of simple ideas, modes, and substances, have each something- peculiar. 2. First, names of simple ideas and substances, intimate real existence. 3. Secondly, names of simple ideas and modes signify always both real and nominal essence. 4. Thirdly, names of simple ideas undefinable. 5. If all were definable, it would be a process in infinitum. 6. What a definition is. 7. Simple ideas, why undefinabjo, C, 9. Instances, motion. 10. Light. 1 1. Simple ideas,why undefinable fur- ther explained. 1 -, 13. The contrary showed in com- plex ideas by instances of a statue and rainbow. 14. The names of complex ideas when, to be made intelligible by words. 15. Fourthly, names of simple ideas least doubtful. 16. Fifthly, simple ideas have few ascents in lina? praedicamentali. 17. Sixthly, names of simple ideas stand for ideas not at all arbitral-}-. CHAPTER V. Of the names of mixed modes and rela- tions. Sect. 1. They stand for abstract ideas as other general names. 2. First, the ideas they stand for are made by the the understanding. 3. Secondly, made arbitrarily, and without patterns. 4. How this is done. 5. Evidently arbitrary, in that the idea is often before the existence. 6. Instances, murder, incest, stabbing. 7. But still subservient to the cud of language. 8. Whereof the intranslatablc words of divers languages are a proof. oi) CONTENTS. Sect. 9. "This shows species to be made for communication, 10, 11. In mixed modes, it is the name that ties the combination together, and makes it a species. 12. For the originals of mixed modes, we look no farther than the mind, which also shows them to be the workmanship of the understand- ing. 13. Their being made by the under- standing without patterns, shows the reason why they are so com- pounded. 14. Names of mixed modes stand al- ways for their real essences. 15. Why their names are usually got before their ideas. , 16. Reason of my being so large on this subject. CHAPTER VI. Of the names of substances. Sect. 1. The common names of substances stand for sorts. 2. The essence of each sort is the ab- stract idea. 3. The nominal and real essence dif- ferent. 4-6. Nothing essential to individuals. 7, 8. The nominal essence bounds the species. 9. Not the real essence which we know not. 10. Not substantial forms, which we know less. 1 1 . That the nominal essence is that whereby we distinguish species, farther evident from spirits. 12. Whereof there are probably num- berless species. 13. The nominal essence that of the species, proved from water and ice. 14-18. Difficulties against a certain number of real essences. 19. Our nominal essences of substan- ces, hot perfect collection? of pro- per! k Sect. 21. But such a collection as our name stands for. 22. Our abstract ideas are to U9 the measures of species. Instances in that of man. 23. Species not distinguished by gene- ration. 24. Not by substantial forms. 25. The specific essences are made by the mind. 26, 27. Therefore very various and un- certain. 28. But not so arbitrary as mixed modes. 29. Though very imperfect. 30. Which yet serve for common con- verse. 31. But make several essences signi- fied by the same name. 32. The more general our ideas are. the more incomplete and partial they are. 33. This all accommodated to the end of speech. 34. Instance in cassiowary. 35. Men make the species. Instance gold. 36. Though nature makes the simili- tude. 37. And continues it in the races of things. 38. Each abstract idea is an essence. 39. Genera and species are in order to naming. Instance watch. 40. Species of artificial things less confused than natural. 41. Artificial things of distinct species. 42. Substances alone have propei names. 43. Difficulty to treat of words with words. 44, 45. Instance of mixed modes in kineah and niouph. 46, 47. Instance of substances inzahab, 48. Their ideas imperfect, and there- fore various. 49. Therefore to fix their species a real essence is supposed. 50. Which supposition i= of no u?c 51. Conclusion. HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. BOOK I. CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION. O 1. AN INQUIRY INTO THE UNDERSTANDING, PLEASANT AND USEFUL. Since it is the understanding that sets men 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 understand- ing, like the eye, whilst it makes us see and perceive 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 own minds, all the ac- quaintance we can make with our own understandings, will not only be very pleasant, but bring us great advantage in directing our thoughts in the search of other things. § 2. DESIGN. This, therefore, being my purpose ; to inquire into the origi- nal, certainty, and extent of human knowledge, together with the grounds and degrees of belief, opinion, and assent — 1 shall not at present meddle with the physical consideration of the mind, or trouble myself to examine, wherein its essence consists, or by what motions of our spirits, or alterations of our bodies, we come to have any sensation by our organs, or any ideas in our understandings; and whether those ideas do, in their forma- tion, any, or all of them, depend on matter or no. These are speculations, which, however curious and entertaining, I shall decline, as lying out of my way in the design I am now upon. H shall suffice to mv present purpose. e of dangerous cons.. Lo the article of faith your lordship endeavours to defend} because they ha\ i made use of against it : for (besidesthat your lordshipjuentions terms) Iha! be to expect that those who oppose that article, should oppose it without any thoughts ; for the things signified by ideas; are nothing but the immediate ■ of our minds in thinking: so that unless any 0113 can oppose the article your ordship defends, without thinking oh something;, he must use the things signified [rf ideas; for lie that thinks must have some immediate object of his mind in ■ linking, i. e. m 1 deas. ' e the name, or the thing; ideas in sound, or * Answer to Mr. Locke's Firs! Letter. _ .. ,6 IITTRODUCTJOffl 1 ion, that your lordship apprehends may he of dangerous consequemeio iiiui article of faith wJi ich your lordship endeavours to defend — it seems to me, I will not say a new way of reasoning (for that belongs to me ;) but were it not your lordship's, I should think it a very extraordinary way of reasoning, to write against a book, wherein your lordship acknowledges they are not used to bad purposes, nor em- ployed to do mischief, only because you find that ideas are, by those who oppose your lordship, employed to do mischief; and so apprehend, that they may be of dan- gerous consequence to the article your lordship has engagedin the defence of. For whether ideas as terms, or ideas as the immediate objects of the mind signified by those terms, may be, in your lordship's apprehension, of dangerous consequence to that article — I do not see how your lordship's writing against the notion of ideas, as stated in my book, will at all hinder your opposers/rom employing them in doing mischief, as before. However, be that as it will, so it is, that your lordship apprehends these new terms, these ideas, with which the world hath of late been so strangely amused (though at last they come to be only common notions of things, as your lordship owns) may be of dangerous consequence to that article. My lord, if any, in answer to your lordship's sermons, and in other pamphlets, wherein your lordship complains they have talked so much of ideas, have been, troublesome to your lordship with that term, it is not strange that your lordship should be tired with that sound : but how natural soever it be to our weak con- stitutions to be offended with any sound wherewith an importunate din hath been made about our ears ; yet, my lord, I know your lordship has a better opinion of the articles of our faith, than to think any of them can be overturned, or so much as shaken, with a breath formed into any sound or term whatsoever. Names are but the arbitrary marks of conceptions ; and so they be sufficiently appropriated to them in their use, I know no other difference any of them have in particular, but as they are of easy or difficult pronunciation, and of a more or less pleasant sound ; and what particular antipathies there may be in men to some of them, upon that account, is not easy to be foreseen. This I am sure, no term whatsoever in itself bears, one more than another, any opposition to truth of any kind ; they are only propositions that do or can oppose the truth of any article or doctrine ; and thus no term is privileged for being set in opposition to truth. There is no word to be found, which may not be brought into a proposition, wherein the most sacred and most evident truths may be opposed ; but that is not a fault in the term, but him that uses it. And therefore I cannot easily persuade myself (whatever your lordship hath said in the heat of your concern) that you have bestowed so much pains upon my book, because the word idea is so much used there . For though upon my saying, in my chapter about the exist- ence of God, ' That I scarce used the word idea in that whole chapter, your lord- ship wishes, that / had done so quite through my book ; yet I must rather look upon that as a compliment to me, wherein your lordship wished that my book had been all through suited to vulgar readers, not used to that and the like terms, than that your lordship has such an apprehension of the word idea, ; or that there. as any such harm in the use of it, instead of the word notion (with which Your lordship seems to take it to agree in signification,) that your lordship would think it worth your while to spend any part of your valuable time and thoughts about my book, for having the word idea so often in it,; for this would be to make your lordship to write only against an impropriety of speech. I own to your lordship, it is a great condescension in your lordship to have done it, if that word have such a share in what your lordship has writ against my book, as some expressions would persuade one ; and I would, for the satisfaction of your lordship, change the term of idea for a better, if your lordship, or any one, could help me to it; for, that notion will not so well stand for every immediate object of reason in my book, by showing that the term notio?i is more peculiarly appropriated to a certain sort of those objects, which I call mixed modes : and f i hink it would not sound altogether so well, to say, the notion of red, and the •notion of a horse ; as the idea, of red, and the idea of a horse. But if any one thinks it will, I contend not ; for I have no fondness for, nor any antipathy to, any particular articulate sounds ; nor do I think there is any spell or fascination in any >>f them. Hut be the word idea proper or improper, I do not see how it is the better or the ' e. because SI men have made use of it, or because it has been made use of tc INTRODUCTION. .7? had purposes ; for ii that be a reason to condemn, or lay ii by, \v<- iuu*i. lay by the terms scripture, reason, perception, distinct, clear, &c. Nay, the name of God himself will not escape ; fori do not think any one of these, or any other term, can be produced, which hath not been made use of by such men, and to such pur- poses. And therefore, if the Unitarians, in their late pamphlet^ have talked vert) much of, and strangely amused the world with ideas, I cannot believe your lordship will think that word one jot the worse, or the more dangerous, because they use it; any more than, for their use of them, you will think reason or scripture terms ill or dangerous. And therefore what your lordship says, that I might have enjoyed the satisfaction of my ideas long enough before your lordship had taken notice of them, i.mtess you had found them employed in doing mischief; will, 1 presume, when your lordship has considered again of this matter, prevail with your lordship, to let me enjoy still the satisfaction I take in my ideas, i. e. as much satisfaction as 1 can take in so small a matter, as is the using of a proper term, notwithstanding it should be employed by others in doing mischief. For, my lord, if I should leave it wholly out of my book and substitute the word notion every where in the room of it, and every body else do so too, (though your lordship does not, I suppose, suspect that I have the vanity to think they would follow my example) my book would it seems, be the more to your lord- ship's liking ; but I do not see how this would one jot abate the mischief youi lordship complains of. For the Unitarians might as much employ notions, as they do now ideas to do mischief; unless they are such fools to think they can conjure with this notable word idea, and that the force of what they say lies in the sounda and not in the signification of their terms. This I am sure of, that the truths of the Christian religion can be no more bat- tered by one word than another ; nor can they be beaten down or endangered by any sound whatsoever. And 1 am apt to flatter myself, that your lordship is satis- fied that there is no harm in the word ideas, because you say, you should not have taken any notice of my ideas, if the enemies of our faith had not taken up my new way of ideas, as an effectual battery against the mysteries of the Christian faith. In which place, by new way of ideas, nothing, I think, can be construed to be meant., but my expressing myself by that of ideas ; and not by other more common words and of ancienter standing in the English language. As to the objection, of the author's way by ideas being a new way, he thus answers : my new ivay by ideas, or my way by ideas, which often occurs in your lordship's letter, is, I confess, a very large and doubtful expression, and may, in the full latitude, comprehend my whole essay ; because treating in it of the under- standing, which is nothing but the faculty of thinking, I could not well treat of iJiat faculty of the mind, which consists in thinking, without considering the imme- diate objects of the mind in thinking, which I call ideas : and therefore in treating of the understanding, I guess it will not be thought strange, that the greatest part ef my book has been taken up, in considering what these objects of the mind, in thinking, are ; whence they come ; what use the mind makes of them, in. its seve- ral ways of thinking ; and what are the outward marks whereby it signifies them to others, or records them for its own use. And this, in short, is my way by ideas, that which your lordship calls my nexo way by ideas ; which, my lord, if it be new, it is but a new history of an old thing. For I think it will not be doubted, that men always performed the actions of thinking, reasoning, believing, and knowing, just after the same manner they do now ; though whether the same account lias here- tofore been given of the way how they performed these actions, or wherein they consisted, I do not know. Were I as well read as your lordship, I should have been safe from that gentle reprimand of your lordship's for thinking my way of lieas new, for want of looking into other men's thoughts, which appear in their hooks. Your lordship's words, as an acknowledgment of your instructions in the case, and as a warning to others, who will be so bold adventurers as to spin any thing barely out of their own thoughts, I shall set down at large. And they run thus : " Whether you took this way of ideas from the modern philosopher men- tioned by you, is not at all material; but I intended no reflection upon you in it (for that you mean, by my commending you as a scholar of so great a master ;) I never meant to take from you the honour of your own inven- tions: and 1 do believe you when you say, That you wrote from your own thoughts, and the ideas you had there. But many things may seem new to one, who con- vrrses only with hi- own thoughts, whieh reallv are not so ; as he may find,, wh§p VnL. I. B 58 INTRODUCTION. he looks into the thoughts of other men, which appear in their books. And there- fore, although I have a just esteem for the invention of such who can spin volumes barely out of their own thoughts ; yet I am apt to think, they would oblige the world more, if, after they have thought so much themselves, they would examine what thoughts others have had before them concerning the same things ; that so those may not be thought their own inventions which are common to themselves and others- If a man should try all the magnetical experiments himself, and pub- lish them as his own thoughts, he might take himself to be the inventor of them ; but he that examines and compares with them what Gilbert and others have done before him, will not diminish the praise of his diligence, but may wish he had compared his thoughts with other men's ; by which the world would receive greater advantage, although he had lost the honour of being an original." To alleviate my fault herein, 1 agree with your lordship, that many things may seem new to one that converses only with his own thoughts, ivhich really are not so : but I must crave leave to suggest to your lordship, that if, in the spinning them out of his own thoughts, they seem new to him, he is certainly the inventor of them ; and they may as justly be thought his own invention, as any one's ; and he is as certainly the inventor of them, as any one who thought on them before him : the distinction of invention, or not invention, lying not in thinking first, or not first, but in borrowing, or not borrowing our thoughts from another : and he to whom spinning them out of his own thoughts, they seem new, could not certainly borrow them from another. So he truly invented printing in Europe, who, without any communication with the Chinese, spun it out of his own thoughts ; though it were ever so true, that the Chinese had the use of printing, nay, of printing in the very same way among them, many ages before him. So that he that spins any thing out of liis own thoughts, that seems new to him, cannot cease to think it his own in- vention, should he examine ever so far, what thoughts others have had before him concerning the same thing, and should find, by examining, that they'had the same thoughts too. But what great obligation this would be to the world, or weighty cause of turn- ing over and looking into books, 1 confess i do not see. The great end to me, in conversing with my own or other men's thoughts, in matters of speculation, is to find truth, without being much concerned whether my own spinning of it out of mine, or their spinning of it out of their own thoughts, helps me to it. And how little 1 affect the honour of an original, may be seen at that place of my bookT where, if any where, that itch of vainglory was likeliest to have shown itself, had I been so overrun with it, as to need a cure : it is where I speak of certainty, in these following words, taken notice of by your lordship, in another place : " I think I have shown wherein it is that certainty, real certainty, consists; which, what- ever it was to others, was, I confess, to me, heretofore, one of those desiderata which I found great want of." Here, my lord, however new this seemed to me, (and the more so because possi- bly I had in vain hunted for it in the books of others) yet I spoke of it as new, only to myself; leaving others in the undisturbed possession of what, either by inven- tion or reading, was theirs before ; without assuming to myself any other honour, but that of my own ignorance, till that time, if others before had shown wherein certainty lay. And yet, my lord, if I had, upon this occasion, been forward to as- sume to myself the honour of unoriginal, I think I had been pretty safe in it ; since I should have had your lordship for my guarantee and vindicator in that point, who are pleased to call it new, and, as such, to write against it. And truly, my lord, in this respect, my book has had very unlucky stars, since it hath had the misfortune to displease your lordship, with many things in it, for their novelty ; as, new way of reasoning, new hypothesis about reason, new sort of certainty, new terms, new way of ideas, new method of certainly, Sic. And yet, in other places, your lordship seems to think it worthy in me of your lordship's re- flection, for saying but w'hat others have said before : as where I say, " In the dif- ferent make of men's tempers, and application of their thoughts, some argu- ments prevail more on one, and some on another, for the confirmation of the same truth." Your lordship asks. What is this different from what all men of under- standing have said ? Again, I take it, your lordship meant not these words for a commendation of my book, where you say, but if no more be meant by " The sim- ple ideas that come in by sensation, or reflection, and their being the foundation of o ur knowledge," but that our notions of things come in, either from our senses or tRt exercise of our fttindi ; as there is nothing extraordinary in the discovery, so yov.x INTRODUCTION. 69 lordship %s far enough from opposing that, irherein you think all mankind are agreed. And again, But what need all this great noise about ideas and certainty, true and real certainty by ideas, if, after all, it comes only to (Ids ; that our ideas only re- present to us such things, from whence we bring arguments to prove the truth of th ings ? But the world hath been strangely amused with ideas of laic ; and we have been told, that strange things might be done by the help of ideas ; and yet these ideas, at last, come to be, only common notions of things, which we must make use of in our reasoning. And to the like purpose in other places. Whether, therefore, at last, your lordship will resolve that it is new or no, or more faulty by its being new, must be left to your lordship. This I find by it, that my book cannot avoid being condemned on the one side or the other, nor do I see a possibility to help it. If there be readers that like only new thoughts ; or, on the other side, others that can bear nothing but what can be justified by received authorities in print — I must desire them to make themselves amends in that part which they like, for the displeasure they receive in the other ; but if any should be so exact, as to find fault with both, truly I know not well what to say to them. The case is a plain case, the book is all over naught, and there isnot a sentence in it, that is not, either for its antiquity or novelty, to be condemned ; and so there is a short end of it. From your lordship, indeed, in particular, I can hope for some- thing better ; for your lordship thinks the general design of it so good, that that, I flatter myself, would prevail on your lordship to preserve it from the fire. But as to the way, your lordship thinks, I should have taken to prevent the having it. thought my invention, when it teas common to me with others, it unluckily so fell out, in the subject of my Essay of Human Understanding, that I could not look into the thoughts of other men to inform myself: for my design being, as well as I could, to copy nature, and to give an account of the operations of the mind in thinking, I could look into nobody's understanding but my own, to see how it wrought ; nor have a prospect into other men's minds, to view their thoughts there, and observe what steps and motions they took, and by what gradations they pro- ceeded in their acquainting themselves with truth, and their advance in knowledge: what we find of their thoughts in books, is but the result of this, and not the pro- gress and working of their minds, in coming to the opinions or conclusions they ?et down and published. All, therefore, that I can say of my book is, that it is a copy of my own mind, in its •everal ways of operation : and all that I can say for the publishing of it is, that I think the intellectual faculties are made, and operate alike in most men ; and that some, that I showed it to before I published it, liked it so well, that I was confirmed in that opinion. And therefore, if it should happen that it should not be so, but that some men should have ways of thinking, reasoning, or arriving at certainty, different from others, and above those that I find my mind to use and acquiesce in, I do not see of what use my book can be to them. I can only make it my humble request, in my own name, and in the name of those that are of ray size, who find their minds work, reason, and know in the same low way that mine does, that those men of a more happy genius would show us the way of their nobler flights ; and particularly would discover to us their shorter or surer way to certainty, than by ideas, and the observing their agreement or disagreement. Your lordship adds, But noiv, it seems, nothing is intelligible but what suits icith the new way of ideas. My lord, the new way of ideas, and the old way of speak- ing intelligibly,* was always and ever will be the same ; and if I may take the liberty to declare my sense of it, herein it consists ; 1. That a man use no words, but such as he makes the signs of certain determined objects of his mind in thinking, which he can make known to another. 2. Next, That he use the same word steadily for the sign of the same immediate object of his mind in thinking. 3. That he join those words together in propositions, according to the grammatical rules of that language he speaks in. 4. That he unites those sentences in a coherent discourse. Thus, and thus only, I humbly conceive, any one may preserve him- self from the confines and suspicion of jargon, whether he pleases to call those im~ modiatc objects of his mind, which his words do, or should stand for, ideasxOT n» Mr. I.orlie's Tbir.l Letter to the Bishop of WorT-sier . «JG CHAPTER II. ]NO INNATE PRINCIPLES IN THE MIND. i 1. THE WAY SHOWN HOW WE COME BY ANY KNOWLEDGE, SUFFICIENT TO PROVE IT NOT INNATE. It is an established opinion among some men that there are in the understanding certain innate principles some primary notions, Koivxt evtotat characters as it were, stamped upon the mind of man, which the soul receives in its verv first being, and brings into the world with it. It would be sufficient to convince unpre- judiced readers of the falseness of this supposition, if 1 should only show (as 1 hope 1 shall in the following parts of this discourse) how men, barely by the use of their natural facul- ties, may attain to all the knowledge they have, without the help of any innate impressions ; and may arrive at certainty, without any such original notions or principles. For I imagine any one will easily grant, that it would be impertinent to suppose the ideas of colours innate in a creature, to whom God hath given sight and a power to receive them by the eyes, from external objects : and no less unreasonable would it be to attribute several truths to the impressions of nature, and innate characters, when we may observe in ourselves faculties fit to attain as easy and certain knowledge of them, as if they were originally imprinted on the mind. But because a man is not permitted, without censure, to follow his own thoughts in the search of truth, when they lead him ever so little out of the common road, I shall set down the reasons that made me doubt of the truth of that opinion, as an excuse for my mistake, if I be in one ; which I leave to be considered by those, who, with me, dispose themselves to embrace truth wherever they find it. § 2. GENERAL ASSENT, THE GREAT ARGUMENT. There is nothing more commonly taken for granted, than that there are cerlain principles, both speculative and practical (for they speak of both) universally agreed upon by all mankind ; which therefore, 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 argument, drawn from universal consent, has this misfor- tune in it, that if it were true in matter of fact, that there were Certain truths wherein all mankind agreed, it would not provr €H. II.] NO INNATE PRINCIPLES IN THE MIND. Gl them innate, if there can be any other way shown how men may come to that universal agreement in the things they do consent in ; which I presume may be done. § 4. " WHAT IS, IS," AND " IT IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR THE SAME THING TO BE, AND NOT TO BE," NOT UNIVERSALLY ASSENTED TO. But, which is worse, this argument of universal consent, which is made use of to prove innate principles, seems to me a demon- stration that there are none such ; because there are none to which all mankind give a universal assent. 1 shall begin with the speculative, and instance in those magnified principles of demonstration; " whatsoever is, is ;" and, u it is impossible for the same thing to be, and not to be ;" which, of all others, 1 think have the most allowed title to innate. These have so settled a reputation of maxims universally received, that it will no doubt be thought strange, if any one should seem to question it. But yet I take liberty to say, that these propositions are so far from having a 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 children and idiots have not the least apprehension or thought of them ; and the want of that is enough to destroy that universal assent, which must needs be the necessary concomitant of all innate truths : it seeming to me near a contradiction to say, that there are truths imprinted on the soul, which it perceives or understands not ; imprinting, if it signify any thing, being nothing else, but the making certain truths to be perceived. For, to imprint any thing on the mind, without the mind's perceiving it, seems to me hardly intelligible. If therefore children and idiots have souls, have minds, with those impressions upon them, they must unavoidably perceive them, and necessarily know and assent to these truths ; which, since they do not, it is evident that there are no such impressions: for if they are not notions naturally imprinted, how can they be innate ? and if they are notions imprinted, how can they be unknown ? To say a notion is imprinted on the mind, and yet at the same time to say, that the mind is ignorant of it, and never yet took notice of it, is to make this impression nothing. No pro- position can be said to be in the mind, which it never yet knew, which it was never yet conscious of: for if any one may, then by the same reason, all propositions that are true, and the mind is capable 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 capable of knowing it 5 and so the mind is of all truths it ever shall know. Nay, thus truths may be imprinted on the mind, which it never did, nor ever shall know : for a man may live 62 NO INNATE PRINCIPLES IN THE MIND. [BOOK I, 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 origi- nal : they must all be innate, or all adventitious : in vain shall a man go about to distinguish them. He, therefore, that talks of innate notions in the understanding, cannot (if he intend thereby any distinct sort of truths) mean such truths to be in the under- standing, as it never perceived, and is yet wholly ignorant of: for if these words (to be in the understanding) have any pro- priety, 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, any thing is, and is not, in the mind or understanding. If therefore these two proposi- tions, " whatsoever is, is," and " it is impossible for the same thing to be, and not to be,1' are by nature imprinted, children cannot be ignorant of them ; infants, and all that have souls, must necessarily have them in their understandings, know the truth of them, and assent to it. § 6. THAT MEN KNOW THEM WHEN THEY COME TO THE USE OF REASON, ANSWERED. To avoid this, it is usually answered, That all men know and assent to them, when they come to the use of reason, and this is enough to prove them innate. I answer, §7. Doubtful expressions, that have scarce any signification, go for clear reasons to those, who, being prepossessed, take not the pains to examine even what they themselves say. For to apply this answer with any tolerable sense to our present purpose, it must signify one of these two things : either, that as soon as men come to the use of reason, these supposed native inscriptions come to be known and observed by them ; or else, that the use and exercise of men's reason assists them in the discovery of these principles, and certainly makes them known to them. CH. II.] NO INNATE PRINCIPLES IN THE MIND. 63 § 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 univer- sal assent, which is made the mark of them, amounts to no more but this ; that by the use of reason we are capable to come to a certain knowledge of, and assent to them ; and, by this means, there will be no difference between the maxims of the mathema- ticians, and theorems they deduce from them : all must be equally allowed innate ; they being all discoveries made by the use of reason, and truths that a rational creature may certainly come to know, if he apply his thoughts rightly that way. §9. IT IS FALSE THAT REASON DISCOVERS THEM. But how can these men think the use of reason necessary to discover principles that are supposed innate, when reason, (if we may believe them) is nothing else but the faculty of deducing unknown truths from principles, or propositions, that are already known ? That certainly can never be thought innate, which we have need of reason to discover; unless, as I have said, we will have all the certain truths that reason ever teaches us to be innate. We may as well think the use of reason necessary to make our eyes discover visible objects, as that there should be need of rea- son, or the exercise thereof, to make the understanding see what is originally engraven on it, and cannot be in the understanding, before it be perceived by it. So that to make reason discover those truths thus imprinted, is to say, that the use of reason discovers to a man what he knew before ; and if men have those innate impressed truths originally and before the use of reason, and yet are always ignorant of them, till they come to the use of reason ; it is in effect to say, that men know and know them not at the same time. § io. It will here perhaps be said, that mathematical demonstration- 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. 1 shall have occasion to speak of assent upon the first proposing, more particularly by and by. I shall here only, and that very readily, allow, that these maxims and mathematical demonstrations are in this different; that the one have need of reason, using of proofs, to make them out, and to gain our assent; but the other, as soon as understood, are, without any the least reasoning, embraced and assented to. But I withal beg leave to observe, that it lays open the weakness of this sub- 64 NO INNATE PRINCIPLES IN THE MIND. [BOOK I. terfuge, which requires the use of reason for the discovery of these general truths ; since it must be confessed that in their discovery there is no use made of reasoning at all. And I think those who give this answer will not be forward to affirm, that the knowledge of this maxim, " That it is impossible for the same thing to be. and not to be,1' 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 not either on native inscription, or on 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 5 and that, as soon as chil- dren 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 sava- ges, 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 rea- son ; and I add, nor then neither : which is so, because, till after they come to the use of reason, those general abstract ideas are not framed in the mind, about which those general maxims are, which are mistaken for innate principles : but are indeed disco- •CH. II.J NO INNATE PRINCIPLES IN THE .MIND. G5 veries made, and verities introduced and brought into the mind, by the same way, and discovered by the same steps, as several other propositions, which nobody was ever so extravagant as to suppose innate. This I hope to make plain in the sequel of this discourse. I allow therefore a necessity that men should come to the use of reason before they get the knowledge of those general truths, but deny that men's coming to the use of reason is the time of their discovery. § 13. BY THrS THEY ARE NOT DISTINGUISHED FROM OTHER KNOWABLF. 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, $omc 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. IF COMING TO THE USE OF REASON WERE THE TIME OF THEIR DISCOVERY, IT WOULD NOT PROVE THEM INNATE. But, secondly, were it true that the precise time of their being known and assented to were when men come to the use of rea- son, neither would that prove them innate. This way of arguing is as frivolous as the supposition of itself is false. For by what kind of logic will it appear, that any notion is originally by nature imprinted in the mind in its first constitution, because it comes first to be observed and assented to, when a faculty of the mind, which has quite a distinct province, begins to exert, itself? And therefore, the coming to the use of speech, if it were supposed the time that these maxims are first assented to, (which it may be with as much truth as the time when men come to the use of reason) would be as good a proof that they were innate, as to say, they are innate, because men assent to them when they come to the use of reason. I agree then with these men of innate principles, that there is no knowledge of these general and self-evident maxims in the mind, till it comes to the exercise of reason ; but I deny that the coming to the use of reason is the precise lime 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 I In- proposition, that men assent to them when they come to the use of reason, is no more but this ; that the making of general ab- stract ideas, and the understanding of general names, being a concomitant of the rational faculty, and growing up wilh it. chil- Voi I o [';t; NO INNATE PRINCIPLES IN THE MIND. [BOOK 1. drcn commonly get not those general ideas, nor learn the names that stand for them, till, having for a good while exercised their reason about familiar and more particular ideas, they are, by their ordinary discourse and actions with others, acknowledged to be capable of rational conversation. If assenting to these maxims, when men come to the use of reason, can be true in any other sense, I desire it may be shown, or at least, how in this, or any other sense, it proves them innate. § 15. THE STEPS BY WHICH THE MIND ATTAINS SEVERAL TRUTHS. The senses at first let in particular ideas, and furnish the yet empty cabinet ; and the mind by degrees growing familiar with some of them, they arc lodged in the memory, and names got to them : afterward the mind, proceeding farther, abstracts them, and by degrees learns the use of general names. In this manner, the mind comes to be furnished with ideas and language, the materials about which to exercise its discursive faculty ; and the: use of reason becomes daily more visible, as these materials that give it employment increase. But though the having of generoi Tdeas, and the use of general words and reason, usually grow together, yet, I see not how this any way proves them innate. The knowledge of some truths, I confess, is very early in the mind, but in a way that shows them not to be innate. For, if we will observe, we shall find it still to be about ideas, not innate, but acquired ; it being about those first which are imprinted by external things, with which infants have earliest to do, which make the most frequent impressions on their senses. In ideas thus got, the mind discovers that some agree and others differ, probably as soon as it has any use of memory ; as soon as it is able to retain and perceive distinct ideas. But whether it be then, or no, this is certain ; it docs so long before it has the use of words, or comes to that, which we commonly call " the use of reason.*' For a child knows as certainly, before it can speak, the difference between the ideas of sweet and bitter (?'. e. that sweet is not bitter) as it knows afterward (when it comes to speak lhat wormwood and sugar plums are not the same thing. 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 pre- sently assents to, or rather perceives the truth of, that proposi- tion. But neither does he then readily assent, because it is an innate truth, nor was his assent wanting till then, because h'^ wanted the use of reason ; but the truth of it appears to him, as soon as he has settled in his mind the clear and distinct ideas that these names stand for; and then he knows the truth of that pro- position, upon the same grounds, and by the same means, that he lenew before that a rod and a cherrvare not the same thing; and ■11. II.J NO INNATE PRINCIPLES IN THE >U.\t». ti7 upon the same grounds also, that he may come to know after- ward, " that it is impossible for the same thing to be, and not to be," as shall be more fully shown hereafter. So that the later it is before any one comes to have those general ideas, about which those maxims are ; or to know the signification of those general lerms that stand for them ; or to put together in his mind the ideas they stand for ; the later also will it be before he comes to assent to those maxims, whose terms, with the ideas they stand for, being no more innate than those of a cat or a weasel, he must stay till time and observation have acquainted him with them ; and then he will be in a capacity to know the truth of these maxims, upon the first occasion that shall make him put together those ideas in his mind, and observe whether they agree or disa- gree, according as is expressed in those propositions. And there- fore it is, that a man knows that eighteen and nineteen are equal to thirty-seven, by the same self-evidence that he knows one and two to be equal to three ; yet a child knows this not so soon as the other, not for want of the use of reason, but because the ideas the words eighteen, nineteen, and thirty- seven stand for, are not so soon got, as those which are signified by one, two, and three. « § 17. ASSENTING AS SOON AS PROPOSED AND CNDERSTOOD. PROVES THEM NOT INNATE. This evasion therefore of general assent, when men come to 'ihe use of reason, failing as it does, and leaving no difference between those supposed innate, and other truths that are after- ward acquired and learnt, men have endeavoured to secure a universal assent to those they call maxima, by saying, they are generally assented to as soon as proposed, and the terms they are proposed in, understood : seeing all men, even children, as soon as they hear and understand the terms, assent to these proposi- tions, 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 understand- ing, which, without any teaching, the mind, at the very first pro- posal, immediately closes with, and assents to, and after that never doubts again. § 18. IF HVC.U A.\ ASSENT LE A MARK OF l.W V l E, THEN " THAT ONE AN7> TWO ARE EQUAL SO THREE, THAT SWEETNESS IS NOT BITTERNESS," AND A THOUSAND THE LIKE, ML'ST BE [INNATE. In answer to this, I demand '• whether ready assent given to a. proposition upon first hearing, and understanding the terms, be a certain mark of an innate principle ?" If it be not, such a gene- • tl 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 proposition^- o be innate which are generally assented t<"> as soon as beard. 68 N'Ql INNATE I'KlM-ll'LES IN T«E MIND. [BOOK I. whereby they will find themselves plentifully stored with innate principles. For upon the same ground, viz. of ascent at first hearing and understanding the terms, that men would have those maxims pass for innate, they must also admit several proposition? 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 mul- titude of other the like propositions in numbers, that every body assents to at first hearing and understanding the terms, must have a place among these innate axioms. Nor is this the prerogative of numbers alone, and propositions made about several of them; but even natural philosophy and all the other sciences, afford propositions which are sure to meet with assent as soon as they are understood. That two bodies cannot be in the same place, is a truth that nobody any more sticks at, than at these maxims, that it is impossible for the same thing to be, and not to be ; that white is not black ; that a square is not a circle ; that yellowness is not sweetness :" these, and a million of other such proposi- tions, (as many at least as we have distinct ideas of) every man in his wits, at first hearing, and knowing what the names stand for, must necessarily assent to. If these men will be true to their own rule, and have assent at first hearing and understanding the terms to be a mark of innate, they must allow, not only as many innate propositions as men have distinct ideas, but as many as men can make propositions, wherein different ideas are denied one of another. Since every proposition, wherein one different idea is denied of another, will as certainly find assent ai 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 ot the two, "the same is not different:" by which account they will have legions of innate propositions of this one sort, without mentioning any other. But since no proposition can be innate, unless the ideas, about which it is, be innate; this will be, to suppose all our ideas of colours, sounds, taste, figure, &c. in- nate, than which there cannot be any thing more opposite to reason and experience. Universal and ready assent, upon hear- ing and understanding the terms, is, (1 grant) a mark of self- evidence ; but self-evidence, depending not on innate impres- sions, but on something else (as we shall show hereafter,) belongs to several propositions, which nobody was yet so extravagant as to pretend to be innate. § 19. SUCH LESS GENERAL PROPOSITIONS KNOWN EEFORE THESE UNIVERSAL MAXIMS. Nor let it be said, that those more particular self-evident pro- positions, 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 (hose more universal propositions, which are looked on as innate principles : since any one, who wiU bid OH. II.] XO INNATE PRINCIPLES IX THE M1NU. 69 take the pains to observe what passes in the understanding, will certainly find, that these, and the like less general propositions, are certainly known, and firmly assented to, by those who are utterly ignorant of those more general maxims ; and so, beinu 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. <3 20. ONE AND ONE EQUAL TO TWO, &C. NOT GENERAL NOR USEI L ! . ANSWERED. If it be said, that " these propositions, viz. two and two are equal to four ; red is not blue, &c. are not general maxims, nor of any great use ;" I answer, that makes nothing to the ar- gument of universal assent, upon hearing and understanding : for, if that be the certain mark of innate, whatever 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 impossible for the same thing to be, and not to be ;" they being upon this ground equal. And as to the difference of being more general, that makes this maxim more remote from being innate ; those general and abstract ideas being more strangers to our first apprehensions, than those of more particular self-evident propositions, and therefore it is longer before they are admitted and assented to by the growing understanding. And as to the usefulness of these magnified maxims, that perhaps will not be found so great as is generaliy conceived, when it comes in its due place to be more fully con- sidered. § 21. THESE MAXIMS NOT BEING KNOWN SOMETIMES TILL PK0POS I PROVES THEM NOT INNATE. But we have not yet done with assenting to propositions at first hearing and understanding their terms ; it is fit we first tak notice, that this, instead of being a mark that they arc innate, is a proof of the contrary ; since it supposes that several, who understand and know other things, are ignorant of these princi- ples, till they are proposed to them ; and that one may be unac- quainted 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 natu- ral and original impression, (if there were any such) they could not but be known before ? Or doth the proposing them print them clearer in the mind than nature did ? If so, then the con- sequence 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 u;^ by others' teaching, than nature has made them by impression ; which will ill agree with the opinion of innate principles, and •4;iv<* but little authority to them; but, on the contrary, makes 70 l\0 INNATE PRINCIPLES IN THE MIND. [BOOK I. 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 whenso- ever he is brought to reflect on them : and if whatever is assent- ed to, at first hearing and understanding the terms, must pass for an innate principle, every well-grounded observation, drawn from particulars into a general rule, must be innate ; when yet it is certain, that not all, but only sagacious heads, light at first on these observations, and reduce them into general propositions, not innate, but collected from a preceding acquaintance, and reflection on particular instances. These, when observing men have made them, unobserving men, when they are proposed to them, cannot refuse their assent to. § 22. IMPLICITLY KNOWN BEFORE PROPOSING, SIGNIFIES, THAT THF. MIND IS CAPABLE OF UNDERSTANDING THEM, OR ELSE SIGNIFIES NOTHING. If it be said, " the understanding hath an implicit knowledge of these principles, but not an explicit, before this first hear- ing," (as they must, who will say, " that they are in the under- standing before they are known") it will be hard to conceive what is meant by a principle imprinted on the understanding implicitly, unless it be this ; that the mind is capable of under- standing and assenting firmly to such propositions. And thus all mathematical demonstrations, as well as first principles, must he received as native impressions on the mind ; which I fear they will scarce allow them to be, who find it harder to demonstrate a proposition, than assent to it when demonstrated. And few mathematicians will be forward to believe, that all the diagrams they have drawn were but copies of those innate characters which nature had engraven upon their minds. <$ 23. THE ARGUMENT OF ASSENTING ON FIRST HEARING, IS UPON A FALSE SUPPOSITION OF NO PRECEDENT TEACHING. There is, I fear, this farther weakness in the foregoing argu- ment, which would persuade us, that therefore those maxims are to be thought innate, which men admit at first hearing be- cause 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 sup- pbsed not to be taught, nor to learn any thing de novo : when CH. II. j XO ix.yate pr^xiples in* the hind. in truth, they arc taught, and do learn something they were igno- rant of before. For first, it is evident, that they have learned the terms and their signification, neither of which was born with them. But this is not all the acquired knowledge in the case : the ideas themselves, about which the proposition is, are not born with them, no more than their names, but got after- ward. So that in all propositions that are assented to at first, hearing, the terms of the proposition, their standing for such ideas, and the ideas themselves that they stand for, being neither of them innate, I would fain know what there is remaining in such propositions that is innate. For I would gladly have any- one name that proposition, whose terms or ideas were either of them innate. We by degrees get ideas and names, and learn their appropriated connexion one with another; and then to pro- positions made in such terms, whose signification we have learnt, and wherein the agreement or disagreement we can perceive in our ideas, when put together, is expressed, we at first hearing assent • though to other propositions, in themselves as certain and evident, but which are concerning ideas not so soon or so easily got, we are at the same time noway capable of assenting. For though a child quickly assents to this proposition, " that an apple is not fire," when, by familiar acquaintance, he has got the ideas of those two different things distinctly imprinted on his mind, and has learnt that the names apple and fire stand for them ; yet, it will be some years after, perhaps, before the same child will assent to this proposition, " that it is impossible for the same thing to be, and not to be ;" because, that though, perhaps, the words are as easy to be learnt, yet the signification of them being more large, comprehensive, and abstract, than of 1he 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 endea- vour to make any child assent to a proposition made up of such general terms : but as soon as ever he has got those ideas, and learned their names, he forwardly closes with the one as well as the other of the fore-mentioned 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 ihem are affirmed or denied one of another in the proposition. Hut if propositions be brought to him in words, which stand for ideas he has not yet in his mind • to such propositions, however evidently true or false in themselves, he affords neither assent nor dissent; but is ignorant: for words being birt empty sounds, any farther than they are signs of our ideas, we cannot but assent to them, as they correspond to those ideas we have, but no farther than that. But the showing by what steps and ways knowledge comes into our minds, and the grounds of several degrees of as- sent, beinor the business of the following discourse, it may suffice 72 NO TNNATE PRINCIPLES INTHE MIND. [BOOK t. to have only touched on it here, as one reason that made mc doubt of those innate principles. § 24. NOT INNATE, BECAUSE NOT UNIVERSALLY ASSENTED TO. To conclude this argument of universal consent, I agree, with these defenders of innate principles, that if they are innate, they must needs have universal assent ; for that a truth should be innate, and yet not assented to, is to me as unintelligible, as for a man to know a truth, and be ignorant of it at the same time. But then, by these men's own confession, they cannot be innate ; since they are not assented to by those who understand not the terms, nor by a great part of those who do understand them, but have yet never heard nor thought of those propositions ; which, I think, is at least one half of mankind. But were the number for less, it would be enough to destroy universal assent, and thereby show these propositions not to be innate, if children alone were ignorant of them. <} 25. THESE MAXIMS NOT THE FIRST KNOWN. But that 1 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 not, it matters not ; there is certainly a time when children begin to think, and their words and actions do assure us that they do so. When therefore they are capable of thought, of knowledge, of assent, can it rationally be supposed they can be ignorant of those notions that nature has imprinted, were there any such ? Can it be imagined with any appearance of reason, that they perceive the impres- sions from things without, and be at the same time ignorant of those characters which nature itself has taken care to stamp within ? Can they receive and assent to adventitious notions, and be ignorant of those which are supposed woven into the very principles of their being, and imprinted there in indelible characters, to be the foundation and guide of all their acquired knowledge and future reasonings ? This would be to make nature take pains to no purpose, or at least, to write very ill ; since its characters could not be read by those eyes which saw other things very well ; and those are very ill supposed the clearest parts of truth, and the foundations of all our knowledge, which are not first known, and without which the undoubted know- ledge of several other things may be had. The child cer- tainly knows that the nurse that feeds it is neither the cat it plays with, nor the blackamoor it is afraid of; that the wormseed or mustard it refuses is not the apple or sugar it cries for ; this it is certainlv and undoubtodlv assured of: but will anv one sav. v OH. II.] \n as the professed enemy of their peace and happiness. What- ever practical principle is innate cannot be known to every one to be just and good. It is therefore little less than a contradic- tion 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 any where universally, and with public approbation or allowance, transgressed, can be supposed innate. But I have something further to add, in answer to this objection. 12. The breaking of a rule, say you, is no argument that it is un- known. I grant it : but the generally allowed breach of it any where, I say, is a proof that it is not innate. For example : let us take any of these rules, which being the most obvious deduc- tions of human reason, and conformable to the natural inclination of the greatest part of men, fewest people have had the impu- dence to deny, or inconsideration to doubt of. If any can be thought to be naturally imprinted, none, I think, can have a fairer pretence to be innate than this ; " parents, preserve and cherish your children." When therefore you say that this is on innate rule, what do you mean ? Either that it is an innate principle, which upon all occasions excites and directs the actions of ail 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 prin- ciple which influences all men's actions, is what I have proved by the examples before cited : nor need we seek so far as Min- grelia 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 uncondemued practice among the Creeks and Romans to expose, without pity or remorse, their innocent in- VOL. I. 11 il NO INNATE PRACTICAL I'RINi ll'LL-. [BOOK I, fants. 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 com- mand, and not a proposition, and so not capable of truth or false- hood. 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 sup- posing the ideas of God, of law, of obligation, of punishment, of a life after this, innate ; for that punishment follows not, in this life, the breach of this rule, and consequently, that it has not the force of a law in countries where the generally allowed practice runs counter to it, is in itself evident. But these ideas (which must be all of them innate, if any thing 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) 1 think, in the next chapter, will appear very evident to any considering man. From what has been said, I think we may safely conclude, thai whatever practical rule is, in any place, generally and with allow- ance broken, cannot be supposed innate : it being impossible that men should, without shame or fear, confidently and serenely break a rule, which they could not but evidently know that God had set up, and would certainly punish the breach of (which they must, if it were innate) to a degree to make it a very ill bargain to the transgressor. Without such a knowledge as this, a man can never be certain that any thing is his duty. Ignorance, or doubt of the law, hopes to escape the knowledge or power of the lawmaker 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 if be possible for people, with such a prospect, such a certain knowledge as this, wantonly, and without scruple, to offend against a law, which they carry about them in indelible charac- ters, 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 lawmaker, can with assurance and gayety slight and trample under foot his most sacred injunc- tions? And. lastly, whether it be possible, that whilst a reran ch. ar.j \u i.w.nx practical principles* «5* thus openly bids defiance to this innate law and supreme law- giver, all the by-standers, yea, even the governors and rulers of the people, full" of the same sense both of the law and law-maker, should silently connive, without testifying their dislike, or laying the least blamo 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 any thing be imprinted on the minds of all men as a law, all men must have a certain and una- voidable 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 float- ing estate with, as without them. An evident indubitable know- ledge of unavoidable punishment, great enough to make the transgression very uneligible, must accompany an innate law ; unless, with an innate law, they can suppose an innate gospel loo. I would not here be mistaken, as if, because 1 deny an innate law, I thought there were none but positive laws. There is a great deal of difference between an innate law, and a law of nature ; between something imprinted on our minds in their very original, and something that we being ignorant of may attain to the knowledge of by the use and application of our natural faculties. And I think they equally forsake the truth, who, running into contrary extremes, either affirm an innate law, or, deny that there is a law knowable by the light of nature, i. e„ without the help of positive revelation. } 14. THOSK WHO MAINTAIN I.WVVH; PiUCTWSU. -PRIXjOIPtES TELL l."s NOT WHAT THEY A UK. The dilference there is among men in their practical princi- ples is so evident, that, 1 think, 1 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 Cod has imprinted on the minds of men the foundations of knowledge, and the rules of living, are yet so little favourable to the information of their neighbours, or the quiet of mankind, as not to point out to them which they are in the variety men are distracted with, But, hi truth, were there 84 NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. [BOOK I. any such innate principles, there would be no need to teach them. Did men find such innate propositions stamped on their minds, they would easily be able to distinguish them from other truths, that they afterward 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 yet ventured to give a catalogue of them, they cannot blame those who doubt of these innate principles ; since even they who require men to believe that there are such innate propositions, do not tell us what they are. It is easy to foresee, that if different men of dif- ferent sects should go about to give us a list of those innate prac- tical 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 any thing can be capable of a law that is not a free agent; and, upon that ground, they must necessarily reject all principles of virtue, who cannot put mo- rality and mechanism together ; which are not very easy to be reconciled or made consistent. § 15. LORD HERBERT'S INNATE PRINCIPLES EXAMINED. When I had writ this, being informed that my lord Herbert had, in his book De Veritate, assigned these innate principles, I presently consulted him, hoping to find, in a man of so great parts, something that might satisfy me in this point, and put an end to my inquiry. In his chapter de Instinctu Naturali, p. 72. edit. 1650, I met with these six marks of his Notitice Commune* : 1. Prioritas. 2- Indrpendentia. 3. Universalitas. 4. Certi- tudo. 5. Kecessilas, i. e. as he explains it, faciunt ad hornini>- conservationem. G. Modus conformationis, i. e. Assensus nulla irtt'erpositd mora. And at the latter end of his little treatise, Dc Religione Laid, he says this of these innate principles: Adeo id noil uniuscujusvis rdigionis confinio arctentur qua. ubique vigenl xcritates. Sunt enim in ipsa mcnle ccclilus descriptor, nullisquc traditionibus, sivc scriptis, sive non scriptis, obnoxice, p. 3. And T\ rilat/s uostrie catholica> quas lanquam indubia Dei cjfata inforo ■interiori descriptor. Thus having given the marks of the innate principles or common notions, and asserted their being printed on the minds of men by the hand of God, he proceeds to sen them down ; and they are these: 1. Esse aliquod dupremum 'iumert* :y- Numcn Hind coli debere. ->. Virtuterni dum " CII. UI.j NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES'. 85 conjvnctam optimam esse ralionem cullus dirini. 4. Resijnscen- dum esse a pecatis. o. J)ari premium xcl pcenam post hanc vi- tam transactam. Though I allow these to be clear truths, and such as, if rightly explained, a rational creature can hardly avoid giving his assent to ; yet I think he is far from proving them innate impressions inforo inlcriori descriptor. For I must take leave to observe, First, that these live propositions are either not all, or more than all, those common notions writ on our minds by the finger of God, if it were reasonable to believe any at all to be so writ- ten : since there are other propositions, which, even by his own rules, have as just a pretence to such an original, and may be as well admitted for innate principles, as at least some of these five he enumerates, viz. " do as thou wouldst be done unto ;" and perhaps some hundreds of others, when well considered. §17, Secondly, that all his marks are not to be found in each of his' five propositions, viz. his first, second, and third marks agree perfectly to neither of them; and the first, second, third, fourth, and sixth marks agree but ill to his third, fourth, and fifth propo- sitions. For besides that we are assured from history of many men, nay, whole nations, who doubt or disbelieve some or all of them, I cannot see how the third, viz. " that virtue joined with piety is the best worship of God," can be an innate principle, when the name or sound, virtue, is so hard to be understood ; liable to so much uncertainty in its signification : and the thing it stands for so much contended about, and difficult to be known. And therefore this cannot but be a very uncertain rule of human practice, and serve but very little to the conduct of our lives, and is therefore very unfit to be assigned as au innate practical principle. £??\ For let us consider this proposition as to its meaning (for it is the sense, and not sound, that is and must be the principle or common notion,) viz. " virtue is the best worship of God ;" ;. e« is most acceptable to him; which, if virtue be taken, as most commonly it is, for those actions which, according to the different opinions of several countries, are accounted laudable, will be a proposition so far from being certain, that it will not be true. If virtue be taken for actions conformable to God's will, or to the rule prescribed by God, which is the true and only measure of virtue, when virtue is used to signify what is in its own nature right and good : then this proposition, " that virtue i- the best worship of God.*1 will be most true and certain, but of very little use in human life: since, it will amount to no more "but this, viz?. "that'Gtfc! is pleased with the doing of what hi 86 _\0 INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. [liOOK I. commands ;" which a man may certainly know to be true, without knowing what it is. that God doth command ; and so be as far from any rule or principle of his actions as he was before. And I think very few will take a proposition which amounts to no more than this, viz. that God is pleased with the doing of what he himself commands, for an innate moral principle writ on the minds of all men (however true and certain it may be,) since it teaches so little. Whosoever does so, will have reason to think hundreds of propositions innate principles ; since there are many which have as good a title to be received for such, which nobody yet ever put into that rank of innate principles. § 19. Nor is the fourth proposition (viz. i: men must repent of their sins") much more instructive, till those actions are, that are meant by sins, be set down. For the word peccata, or sins, being put, as it usually is, to signify in general ill actions, that will draw punishment upon the doers, what great principle of morality can that be, to tell us we should be sorry, and cease to do that which will bring mischief upon us, without knowing what those parti- cular actions are, that will do so ? Indeed, this is a very true proposition, and fit to be inculcated on, and received by those, who are supposed to have been taught, what actions in all kinds are sins ; but neither this nor the former can be imagined to be innate principles, nor to be of any use, if they were innate, unless the particular measures and bounds of all virtues and vices, were engraven in men's minds, and were innate principles also; which I think is very much to be doubted. And therefore, 1 imagine, it will scarce seem possible that God should engrave principles in men's minds, in words of uncertain signification, such as virtues and sins, which, among different men, stand for different things ; nay, it cannot be supposed to be in words at all : which, being in most of these principles very general names, cannot be understood, but by knowing the particulars compre- hended under them. And in the practical instances, the mea- sures must be taken from the knowledge of the actions themselves, and the rules of them, abstracted from words, and antecedent to the knowledge of names ; which rules a man must know, what language soever he chance to learn, whether English or Japan, or if he should learn no language at all, or never should under- stand the use of words, as happens in the case of dumb and deaf men. When it shall be made out that men ignorant of words, or untaught by the laws and customs of their country, know that it is part of the worship of God not to kill another man ; or to know more women than one ; not to procure abortion ; not to expose their children ; not to take from another what is his, iliough we want it ourselves, but, on the contrary, relieve and supply his wants ; and whenever we have done to the contrarv we ought to repent, be sorry, and resolve to dp so no more : when, { suv, all men shall be proved actually to know and allow CH. IXI.3 NO (tfXATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLED. 87 all these, and a thousand other such rules, all which come under these two general words made use of above, viz. " virtutcs et peccata," virtues and sins, there will be more reason for admit- ting these and the like for common notions and practical princi- ples. Yet, after all. universal consent (were there any in moral principles) to truths, the knowledge whereof may be attained otherwise, would scarce prove them innate ; which is all I con- tend for. § 20. OEJ.-r-lNNATC PRINCIPLES MAY BE CORRUPTED, ANSWERED. Nor will it be of much moment here to offer that very ready, but not very material answer, (viz.) that the innate principles of morality may, by education and custom, and the general opinion of those among whom we converse, he darkened, and at last quite worn out of the minds of men. Which assertion of theirs, if true, quite takes away the argument of universal consent, by which this opinion of innate principles is endeavoured to be proved ; unless those men will think it reasonable that their private persuasions, or that of their party, should pass for uni- versal consent: a thing not unfrequently done, when men, presuming themselves to be the only masters of right reason, cast by the votes and opinions of the rest of mankind as not worthy the reckoning. And then their argument stands thus : " the principles which all mankind allow for true are innate ; those that men of right reason admit, are the principles allowed by all mankind ; we, and those of our mind, are men of reason ; there- fore we agreeing, our principles are innate ;" which is a very pretty way of arguing, and a short cut to infallibility. For otherwise it will be hard to understand, how there be some prin- ciples which all men do acknowledge and agree in ; and yet there are none of those principles, which are not by depraved custom and ill education blotted out of the minds of many men ; which is to say, that all men admit, but yet many men do deny and dissent from them. And indeed the supposition of such first principles will serve us to very little purpose ; and we shall be as much at a loss with as without them, if they may, by any human power, such as the will of our teachers, or opinions of our companions, be altered or lost in us : and notwithstanding all this boast of first principles and innate light, we shall be as much in the dark and uncertainty, as if there were no such thing at all : it being all one, to have no rule, and one that will warp any way; or, among various and contrary rules, not to know which is the right. But concerning innate principles, i desire these men to say, whether they can, or cannot, by education and custom, be blurred and blotted out: if they cannot, we must find them in all mankind alike, and they must be clear in every body : and if ihey may suffer variation from adventitious notions, we must then find them clearest and most perspicuous, nearest the fountain, in children and illiterate people, who have received least impression from foreign opinions. Let them take which side they please. ii8 KO INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. [BOOK. I. they will certainly find it inconsistent with visible matter of fact and daily observation. § 21. CONTRARY PRINCIPLES IN THE WORLD. I easily grant that there are great numbers of opinions, which by men of different countries, educations, and tempers, are re- ceived and embraced as iirst and unquestionable principles; many whereof, both for their absurdity, as well as oppositions to one another, it is impossible should be true. But yet all those propo- sitions, how remote soever from reason, are so sacred somewhere or other, that men, even of good understanding in other matters, will sooner part with their lives, and whatever is dearest to them, than suffer themselves to doubt, or others to question, the truth of them. • § 22. HOW MEN COMMONLY COME BY THEIR PRINCIPLES. This, however strange it may seem, is that which every day's experience confirms ; and will not, perhaps, appear so wonderful, if we consider the ways and steps by which it is brought about ; and how really it may come to pass, that doctrines that have been derived from no better original than the superstition of a nurse, or the authority of an old woman, may, by length of time, and consent of neighbours, grow up to the dignity of principles in religion or morality. For such who are careful (as they call it) to principle children well (and few there be who have not a set of those principles for them, which they believe in) instil into the unwary, and as yet unprejudiced understanding (for white paper receives any characters,) those doctrines they would have them retain and profess. These being taught them as soon as they have any apprehension ; and still as they grow up confirmed to them, either by the open profession or tacit consent, of all they have to do with : or at least by those, of whose wisdom, knowledge, and piety, they have an opinion, who never suffer these propositions to be otherwise mentioned, but as the basis and foundation on which they build their religion and manners j come, by these means, to have the reputation of unquestionable, self-evident, and innate truths. §23. To which we may add, that when men, so instructed, are grown up, and reflect on their own minds, they cannot find any- thing more ancient there than those opinions which were taught them before their memory began to keep a register of their actions, date the time when any new thing appeared to them ; and therefore make no scruple to conclude, that those proposi- tions, of whose knowledge they can find in themselves no original, were certainly the impress of God and nature upon their minds, and not taught them by any one else. These they entertain and submit to, as many do to their parents, with veneration ; not because h is natural { nor do children d^ it. where thev are not CH. III.j NO INSATfi PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES. 39 so taught ; but because, having been always so educated, and having no remembrance of the beginning of this respect, they think it is natural. §24. This will appear very likely, and almost unavoidably to come to pass, if we consider the nature of mankind, and the constitu- tion of human affairs ; wherein most men cannot live without employing their time in the daily labours of their callings : nor be at quiet in their minds without some foundation or principle to rest their thoughts on. There is scarce any one so floating and superficial in his understanding, who hath not some reverenced propositions, which arc to him the principles on which he bottoms his reasonings ; and by which he judgeth of truth and falsehood, right and wrong : which some, wanting skill and leisure, and others the inclination, and some being taught that they ought not to examine, they are few to be found who are not exposed by their ignorance, laziness, education, or precipitancy, to take them upon trust. §25. This is evidently the case of all children and young folk; and custom, a greater power than nature, seldom failing to make them worship for divine what she hath inured them to bow their minds and submit their understandings to, it is no wonder that grown men, either perplexed in the necessary affairs of life, or hot in the pursuit of pleasures, should not seriously sit down to examine their own tenets ; especially when one of their principles is, that principles ought not to be questioned. And had men leisure, parts, and will, who is there almost that dare shake the founda- tions of all his past thoughts and actions, and endure to bring upon himself the shame of having been a long time wholly in mistake and error ? Who is there hardy enough to contend with the reproach which is every where prepared for those who dare venture to dissent from the received opinions of their country or party ? And where is the man to be found that can patiently prepare himself to bear the name of whimsical, skeptical, or atheist, which he is sure to meet with, who does in the least scruple any of the common opinions ? And he will be much more afraid to question those principles, when he shall think them, as most men do, the standards set up by God in his mind, to be the rule and touchstone of all other opinions. And what can hinder him from thinking them sacred, when he finds them the earliest of all his own thoughts, and the most reverenced by others. §26. It is easy to imagine how by these means it comes to pass that men worship the idols that have been set up in their minds ; grow fond of the notions they have long been acquainted with Vol, I, 12 90 NO INNATE' PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES: [_BOOK !■> (here ; and stamp the characters of divinity upon absurdities and errors ; become zealous votaries to bulls and monkeys ; and contend too, fight, and die in defence of their opinions ; " Dum solos credit habendos esse deos, quos ipse colit." For since the "reasoning faculties of the soul, which are almost con- stantly, though not always warily nor wisely, employed, would not know how to move, for want of a foundation and footing, in most men ; who through laziness or avocation do not, or for want of time, or true helps, or for other causes, cannot penetrate into the principles of knowledge, and trace truth to its fountain and original; it is natural for them, and almost unavoidable, to take up with some borrowed principles : which being reputed and presumed to be the evident proofs of other things, are thought not to need any other proof themselves. Whoever shall receive any of these into his mind, and entertain them there, with the reverence usually paid to principles, never venturing to examine them, but accustoming himself to believe them, be- cause they are to be believed, may take up from his education, and the fashions of his country, any absurdity for innate princi- ples ; and by long poring on the same objects, to dim his sight, as to take monsters lodged in his own brain for the images of the Deity, and the workmanship of his hands. § 27. PIUXCIl'LES MUST BE EXAMINED. By this progress how many there are who arrive at principles which they believe innate may be easily observed, in the variety of opposite principles held and contended for by all sorts and degrees of men. And he that shall deny this to be the method wherein most men proceed to the assurance they have of the truth and evidence of their principles, will perhaps rind it a hard matter any other way to account for the contrary tenets which are firmly believed, confidently asserted, and which great num- bers are ready at any time to seal with their blood. And, indeed, if it be the privilege of innate principles to be received upon their own authority, without examination, I know not what may not be believed, or how any one's principles can be questioned, if they may and ought to be examined, and tried, I desire to know how first and innate principles can be tried ; or at least it is reasonable to demand the marks and characters, whereby the genuine innate principles may be distinguished from others ; that so, amidst the great variety of pretenders, 1 may be kept from mistakes, in so material a point as this. When this is done, I shall be ready to embrace such welcome and useful propositions ; and till then I may with modesty doubt, since I fear universal consent, which is the only one produced, will scarce prove a sufficient mark to direct my choice, and assure me of any innate principles. From what has been said, I think it past doubt that there are no practical principles wherein all men agree, apd therefore' rrone innate.. CHAPTER IV. OTHER CONSIDERATIONS CONCERNING INNATE PRINCIPLES BOTH SPECULATIVE WD PRACTICAL. § 1. PRINCIPLES NOT INNATE, UNLESS THEIR IDEAS BE INNATE. Had those who would persuade us that there arc innate prin- ciples not taken them together in dross, but considered sepa- rately the parts out of which those propositions are made, they would not, perhaps, have been so forward to believe they were innate: since, if the ideas which made up those. truths were not, it was impossible that the propositions made up of them should be innate, or the knowledge of them be born with us. For if the ideas be not innate, there was a time when the mind was without those principles ; and then they will not be innate, but be derived from some other original. For where the ideas themselves are not, there can be no knowledge, no assent, no mental or verbal propositions about them. § ~. IDEAS, ESPECIALLY THOSE BELONGING TO PRINCIPLES, NOT BORN WITH CHILDREN. ]f we will attentively consider new-born children, we shall have little reason to think that they bring many ideas into the world with them. For bating perhaps some faint ideas of hun- ger and thirst, and warmth, and some pains which they may have felt in the womb, there is not the least appearance of any settled ideas at all in them ; especially of ideas, answering the terms which make up those universal propositions, that are esteemed innate principles. One may perceive how, by degrees, after- ward, ideas come into their minds ; and that they get no more, nor no other, than what experience, and the observation of things that come in their way, furnish them with : which might be enough to satisfy us that they are not original characters stamped on the mind. Ci It is impossible for the same thing to be, and not to be," is • ertainly (if there be any such) an innate principle. But can any one think, or will any one say, that impossibility and identity, are two innate ideas ? Are they such as all mankind have, and bring into the world with them ? And are they those which are the first in children, and antecedent to all acquired ones ? If they are innate, they must needs be so ? Hath a child an idea of im- possibility and identity before it has of white or black, sweet or bitter ? And is it from the knowledge of this principle that it concludes, that wormwood rubbed on the nipple hath not the. same taste that it used to receive from thence ? Is it the actual knowledge of " impossibile est idem esse, ef. noa esse," that 9£ no innate principles. [booki. makes a child distinguish between its mother and a stranger ? or that makes it fond of the one and fly the other ? Or does the mind regulate itself and its assent by ideas that it never yet had ? or the understanding draw conclusions from principles which it never yet knew nor understood ? The names impossibility and identity stand for two ideas, so far from being innate, or born with us, that 1 think it requires great care and attention to form them right in our understandings. They are so far from being brought into the world with us, so remote from the thoughts of infancy and childhood, that I believe, upon examination it will be found, that many grown men want them. § 4. IDENTITY, AN IDEA NOT INNATE. If identity (to instance in that alone) be a native impression, and consequently so clear and obvious to us, that we must needs know it even from our cradles, I would gladly be resolved by one of seven, or seventy years old, whether a man, being a crea- ture consisting of soul and body, be the same man when his body is changed. "Whether Euphorbus and Pythagoras, having had the same soul, were the same men, though they lived several ages usunder? Nay, whether the cock too, which had the same soul, were not the same with both of them ? Whereby, perhaps, it will appear that our idea of sameness is not so settled and clear as to deserve to be thought innate in us. For if those innate ideas are not clear and distinct, so as to be universally known, and naturally agreed on, they cannot be subjects of universal and undoubted truths ; but will be the unavoidable occasion of per- • petual uncertainty. For, I suppose, every one's idea of identity will not be the same that Pythagoras and others of his followers have: And which then shall be true ? Which innate? Or are there two different ideas of identity, both innate? §5. Nor let any one think that the questions I have here proposed about the identity of man, are bare empty speculations ; which if they were, would be enough to show that there was in the under- standings of men no innate idea of identity. He that shall, with a little attention, reflect on the resurrection, and consider that divine justice will bring to judgment, at the last day, the very same persons, to be happy or miserable in the other, who did well or ill in this life, will rind it perhaps not easy to resolve with him- self what makes the same man. or wherein identity consists : and will not be forward to think he, and every one, even children themselves, have naturally a clear idea of it. § 6. WHOLE AND PART NOT INNATE IDEAS. Let us examine that principle of mathematics, viz. " that the whole is bigger than a part.'' This, I take it, is reckoned among innate principles. 1 am sure it has as good a title as < II. IV.] NO INNATE PRINCIPLES. 93 any to be thought so ; which yet nobody can think it to be, when he considers the ideas it comprehends in it, " whole and part," are perfectly relative ; but the positive ideas, to which they pro- perly and immediately belong, are extension and number, of which alone whole and part arc relations. So that if whole and part are innate ideas, extension and number must be so too ; it being impossible to have an idea of a relation, without having any at all of the thing to which it belongs, and in which it is founded. Now whether the minds of men have naturally im- printed on them the ideas of extension and number, I leave to be considered by those who are the patrons of innate principles. § 7. IDEA OF WORSHIP NOT INNATE. " That God is to be worshipped^" is. without doubt, as great a truth as any can enter into the mind of man, and deserves the first place among all practical principles. But yet it can by no means be thought innate, unless the ideas of God and worship arc innate. That the idea the term worship stands for is not in ihe understanding of children, and a character stamped on the mind in its first original, I think, will be easily granted by any one that considers how tew there be, among grown men, who have a clear and distinct notion of it. And, I suppose, there cannot be any thing more ridiculous than to say that children have this practical principle innate, "that God is to be worship- ped ;" and yet, that they know not what that worship of God is, which is their duty. But to pass by this: § 8. IDEA OF GOD NOT INNATE. If any idea can be imagined innate, the idea of God may, of all others, for many reasons, be thought so ; since it is hard to conceive how there should be innate moral principles without an innate idea of a Deity : without a notion of a lawmaker, it is impossible to have a notion of a law, and an obligation to observe it. Besides the atheists taken notice of among the ancients, and left branded upon'the records of history, hath not navigation dis- covered, in these later ages, whole nations, at the ba\ of Soldania, (a) in Brazil, (4) in Boranday,fc) and in the Caribee islands, &c. among whom there was to be found no notion of a God, no religion ? Nicholaus del Techo in literis, ex Paraquaria de Caai- guarum conversione, has these words :(d) "Reperi earn gentem nullum nomen habere, quod Deum et hominis animam signiricet, nulla sacra habet, nulla idola." These are instances of nations where uncultivated nature has been left to itself, without the help of letters, and discipline, and the improvements of arts and sciences. But there are others to be found, who have enjoyed (a) Roe apud Thevenot, p. '_'. (J>) Jo. de Lery, c. 16. (<•) Mavtmiere!f£. Terry ^ and -/fa. Ovingtoli ,' § ,' . '.<> Relatio triplex de rebus [nda ruarum^- 94 NO INNATE PRINCIPLES. [BOOK I. these in a very great measure ; who yet, for want of a due ap plication of their thoughts this way, want the idea and knowledge of God. It will, I doubt not, be a surprise to others, as it was to me, to find the Siamites of this number. But for this let them consult the king of France's late envoy thither.(e) who gives no better account of the Chinese themselves. (/) And if we will not believe La Loubere, the missionaries of China, even the Je- suits themselves, the great encomiasts of the Chinese, do all to a man agree, and will convince us that the sect of the literati, or learned, keeping to the old religion of China, and the ruling party there, are all of them atheists. Vid. Navarette, in the collection of voyages, vol. the first, and Historia cultus Sinensium. And perhaps if we should, with attention, mind the lives and dis- courses of people not so far off, we should have too much reason to fear, that many in more civilized countries have no very strong and clear impressions of a deity upon their minds ; and that the complaints of atheism, made from the pulpit, are not without reason. And though only some profligate wretches own it too barefacedly now ; yet perhaps we should hear more than we do of it from others, did not the fear of the magistrate's sword, or their neighbour's censure, tie up people's tongues : which, were the apprehensions of punishment or shame taken away, would as openly proclaim their atheism, as their lives do. (2) (e) La Loubere du Royaume Je Siam, t. 1, c. 9, sect. 15, and c. 20, seel. 22, ande. 22, sect. 6. (f) lb. 1. 1, c. 20, sect. 4, andc. 23. (2) On this reasoning of the author against innate ideas, great blame hath been "iaid ; because it seems to invalidate an argument commonly used to prove the bein<" of a God, viz. universal consent : to which our author answers,* I think that the universal consent of mankind, as to the being of a God, amounts to thus much, that the vastly greater majority of mankind have in all ages of the world actually believed a God ; that the majority of the remaining part have not actually disbelieved it ; and consequently those who have actually opposed (he belief of a God have truly been very few. So that comparing those that huve actually disbelieved, with those who have actually believed a God, their number is so inconsiderable, that in respect of this incomparably greater majority, of those who have owned the belief of a God, it may be said to be the universal consent of mankind. This is all the universal consent which truth or matter of fact will allow ; and therefore all that can be made use of to prove a God. But if any one would extend it farther, and speak deceitfully for God ; if this universality should be urged in a strict sense, not for much the majority, but for a gene- ral consent of every one, even to a man, in all ages and countries ; this would make it either no argument, or a perfectly useless and unnecessary one. For if any one deny a God, such a universality of consent is destroyed; and if nobody does deny a God, what need of arguments to convince atheists ? I would crave leave to ask your lordship, were there ever in the world any utheists or no ? If there were not, what need is thereof raising a question about the bein"- of a God, when nobody questions it ? What need of provisional argu- ments against a fault, from which mankind are so. wholly free, and which, by a universal consent, they may be presumed to be secure from? If you say, (as I doubt not but you will) that there have been atheists in the world, then your lordship's universal consent reduces itself to only a great majority ; and then make that majority as great as you will, what I have said in the place quoted by • In his third letter to the Bishop of Worcester. ■■ jl. IV. j NO INNATE PUINC1PLL- 95 ft 0. But had all mankind, every where, a notion of a God, (where yet history tells us the contrary) it would not from thence follow that the idea of him was innate. For though no nation were to be found without a name, and some few dark notions of him, yet your lordship leave? it in its full force ; and I have not said one word that does in the least invalidate this argument for.a God. The argument 1 was upon there was to show, that the idea of God was not innate ; aud to my purpose it was sufficient, if there were but a less number found in the world, who had no ide;t of God, than your lordship will allow there have been of professed atheists ; for whatsoever is innate must be universal in the strictest sense. One exception is a sufficient proof against it. So that all that I said, and which was quite to ano- ther purpose, did not at all tend, nor can be made use of, to invalidate the argu- ment for a Deity, grounded on such a universal consent, as your lordship, and ull that build on it, must own ; which is only a very disproportioned majority : Mich a universal consent my argument there neither affirms nor requires to be less than you will be pleased to allow it. Your lordship therefore might, without any prejudice to those declarations of good-will and favour you have for the author of the "Essay of Human Understanding," have spared the mentioning his quoting authors that are in print, for matters of fact to quite another purpose, " as going about to invalidate the argument for a Deity, from the universal con- sent of mankind ; since he leaves that universal consent as entire and as large as you yourself do, or can own, or suppose it. But here I have no reason to be sorry that your lordship has given me this occasion for the vindication of this passage of my book ; if there should be any one besides your lordship, who should so far mistake it, as to think it in the least invalidates the argument for a God, from the universal consent of mankind. But because you question the credibility of those authors I have quoted, which you say were very ill-chosen ; I will crave leave to say, that he whom! relied on for his testimony concerning the Hottentots of Soldania, was no less a man than an ambassador from the king of England to the Great Mogul ; of whose rela- i ion, Monsieur Thevenot, no ill judge in the case, had so great an esteem, that he was at the pains to translate into French, and publish it in his (which is counted no injudicious) collection of Travels. But to intercede with your lordship for a little more favourable allowance of credit to Sir Thomas Hoe's relation ; Coorc, an inhabitant of the country, who could speak English, assured Mr. Terry,* that they of Soldania had no God. But if he too have the ill luck to find no credit with you, I hope you will be a little more favourable to .i divine of the church of England, now living, and admit of his testimony in confirmation of Sir Thomas Roe's. This worthy gentleman, in the relation of his voyage to Surat, printed but two years since, speaking of the same people, has these words :t " They are sunk even below idolatry, are desti- tute of both priest and temple, and saving a little show of rejoicing, which is made at the full and new moon, have lost all kind of religious devotion. Nature has so richly provided for their convenience in this life, that they have drowned all sense of the God of it, and are grown quite careless of the next." . But to provide against the clearest evidence of atheism in these people, you ?ny, " that the account given of them makes them not fit to be a standard for the sense of mankind." This, I think, may pass for nothing, till some- body be found, that makes them to be a standard for the sense of mankind . All the use I made of them was to show, that there were men in the work! that had no innate idea of a God. But to ksep something like an argument ?omo» (f°r what will not that do?) you go near denying those Cafers to be men. What else do these words signify? "a people so strangely bereft of common sense, that they can hardly be reckoned among mankind, as appears by the. best accounts of the Cafers of Soldania, i*Ce." I hope, if any of them were called Peter, Jamfee, or John, it would be past scruple that they were men: however Courwee, Wcwcna, and Cowsheda, and those others who had names. • Terry's Voyage, p, 17, 23. I Mr. Ovin^toi). p. W. 96 M5 IiNNATE PRINCIPLES. [BOOK I- that would not prove them to be natural impressions on the mind any more than the names of tire, or the sun, heat, or number, do prove the ideas they stand for to be innate : because the names of those things, and the ideas of them, are so universally received and known among mankind. Nor, on the contrary, is the want of such a name, or the absence of such a notion, out of men's minds, any argument against the being of a God ; any more than it would be a proof that there was no loadstone in the world, because a great part of mankind had neither a notion of any such thing, nor a name for it ; or be any show of argument to prove, that there are no distinct and various species of angels or intel- ligent beings above us, because we have no ideas of such distinct species, or names for them : for men being furnished with words, by the common language of their own countries, can scarce avoid having some kind of ideas of those things, whose names those they converse with have occasion frequently to mention to them. And if they carry with it the notion of excellency, greatness, and something extraordinary ; if apprehension and concernment accompany it ; if the fear of absolute and irresistible power set it on upon the mind, the idea is likely to sink the deeper, and spread the farther : especially if it be such an idea as is agree- able to the common light of reason, and naturally deducible from every part of our knowledge, as that of a God is. For the visible marks of extraordinary wisdom and power appear so plainly in all the works of the creation, that a rational creature, who will but seriously reflect on them, cannot miss the discovery of a Deity. And the influence that the discovery of such a being must necessarily have on the minds of all, that have but once heard of it, is so great, and carries such a weight of thought and communication with it, that it seems stranger to me that a whole nation of men should be any where found so brutish as to want the notion of a God, than that they should be without any notion of numbers or fire. § 10. The name of God being once mentioned in any part of the world, to express a superior, powerful, wise, invisible being, the suitableness of such a notion to the principles of common reason, and the interest men will always have to mention it often,- must necessarily spread it far and wide, and continue it down to all that had no places in your nomenclator, would hardly pass muster with your lordship. My lord, I should not mention this, but that what you yourself say here may be a motive to you to consider, that what you have laid such a stress on concerning the general nature of man, as a real being, and the subject of properties, amounts to nothing for the distinguishing of species ; since you yourself own that there may be individuals, wherein there is a common nature with a particular subsistence proper to each of them ; whereby you are so little able to know of which of the ranks or sorts they are, into which you say God has ordered beings, and which he hath distinguished, by essential properties, that you are in doubt whether they ought to be reckoned among man- kind or no. fcli. IV. | No J.N.NATI. PRINCIPLES • !)T generations ; though yet the general reception of tins name, and some imperfect and unsteady notions conveyed thereby to the unthinking part of mankind, prove not the idea to he innate ; but only that they who made the discovery had made a right use of their reason, thought maturely of the causes of things, and traced them to their original ; from whom other less considering people, having once received so important a notion, it could not easily he lost again. §11. This is all could he inferred from the notion of a God, were if to he found universally in all the tribes nf mankind, and generally acknowledged by men grown to maturity in all countries. For the generality of the acknowledging of a God, as I imagine, is extended no farther than that ; which if it be sufficient to prove the idea of God innate, will as well prove the idea of tire innate ; • No INNATE PRINCIPLES. [BOOK f. s did after God, Acts xvii. 27, than that their wills should clash with their understandings, and their appetites cross their duty. The Romanists say, it is best for men, and so suitable to the good- ness of God, that there should be an infallible judge of contro- versies on earth ; and therefore there is one. And I, by the same reason, say, it is better for men that every man himself should be infallible. I leave them to consider, whether by the force of this argument they shall think, that every man is so. I think it a very ^ood argument to say, the infinitely wise God hath made it so ; and therefore it is best. But it seems to me a little too much confidence of our own wisdom to say, " 1 think it best, and there- fore God hath made it so ;".and, in the matter in hand, it will be in vain to argue from such a topic that God hath done so, when certain experience shows us that he hath not. But the goodness of God hath not been wanting to men without such original impressions of knowledge, or ideas stamped on the- mind : since he hath furnished man with those faculties, which will serve for the sufficient discovery of all (kings requisite to the end of such a being. And 1 doubt not but to show that a man, by the right use of his natural abilities may, without any innate principles, attain a knowledge of a God, and other things that concern him. God having endued man with those faculties of knowing which he hath, was no more obliged by his goodness to plant those innate notions in his mind, than that, having given him reason, hands, and materials, he should build him bridges or houses ; which some people in the world, however, of good parts, do either totally want, or are but ill provided of, as well as others are wholly without ideas of God, and principles of morality; or at least have but very ill ones. The reason in "both cases being, that they never employed their parts, faculties, and powers in- dustriously that way, but contented themselves with the opinions, fashions, and things of their country, as they found them, without looking any farther. Had you or I been born at the bay of Soldania, possibly our thoughts and notions had not exceeded those brutish ones of the Hottentots that inhabit there : and had the Virginia king Apochancanabeen educated in England, he had been perhaps as knowing a divine, and as good a mathematician, as any in it. The difference between him and a more improved Englishman lying barely in this, that the exercise of his faculties was bounded within the ways, modes, and notions of his owu country, and never directed to any. other or farther inquiries; and if he had not any idea of a God, it was only because he pursued not those thoughts that would have led him to it. § 3. IDEAS OF GOD VARIOUS IN DIFFERENT MEN. I grant that if there were any idea to be found imprinted on the minds of men, we have reason to expect it should be the notion of his Maker, as a mark God set on his own workmanship, to mind man of his dependence and duty ; and that herein should CH. IV.] NO INNJCTE PRINCIPLE^ 99 appear the firet instances of human knowledge. But how late is it before any such notion is discoverable in children .' And when we find it there, how much more does it resemble the opinion and notion of the teacher, than represent the true God.'' Me that shall observe in children the progress whereby their minds attain the knowledge they have, will think that the objects they do first and most familiarly converse with are those that make the first impressions on their understandings ; nor will he find the least footsteps of any other. It is easy to take notice how their thoughts enlarge themselves, only as they come to be acquainted with a greater variety of sensible objects, to retain the ideas of them in their memories ; and to get the skill to compound and enlarge them, and several ways put them together. How by these means they come to frame in their minds an idea men have of a Deity I shall hereafter show. I V-L Can it be thought that the ideas men have of God are the cha- racters and marks of himself, engraven on their minds by his own linger, when we see that in the same country, under one and the same name, men have far different, nay, often contrary and incon- sistent ideas and conceptions of him i? Their agreeing in a name. or sound, will scarce prove an innate notion of him. § 15. What true or tolerable notion of a Deity could they have, who acknowledged and worshipped hundreds .; Every deity that they owned above one was an infallible evidence of their ignorance of him, and a proof that they had no true notion of God, where unity, infinity, and eternity were excluded. To which if we add their gross conceptions of corporeity, expressed in their images and representations of their deities ; the amours, marriages, copulations, lusts, quarrels, and other mean qualities attributed by them to their gods, we shall have little reason to think, that the heathen world, i. c. the greatest part of mankind, had such ideas of God in their minds, as he himself, out of care that they should not be mistaken about him, was author of. And this universality of consent, so much argued, if it prove any native impressions, it will be only this, that God imprinted on the minds of all men, speaking the same language, a name for him- self, but not any idea ; since those people, who agreed "in tin name, had at the same time far different apprehensions about the thing signified. If they say, that the variety of deities worship- ped by the heathen world were but figurative ways of expressing the several attributes of that incomprehensible being, or several parts of his providence. ; 1 answer, what they might be in the original 1 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 tin- bishop of Beryte, c. 13, (not to 100 MJ LVNATE PRINCIPLES. [BOOK 1, mention other testimonies) will find that the theology of the Si- amites professedly owns a plurality of gods : or as the Abbe de Choisy more judiciously remarks, in his Journal du Voyage d< iSiam, |-£i? it consists properly in acknowledging no God at all. If it be said, that wise men of all nations came to have true conceptions of the unity and infinity of the Deity, I grant it. But then this, First, Excludes universality of consent in any thing 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 incon- siderate part of men, making far the greater number, took up their notions by chance, from common tradition and vulgar con- ceptions, 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. § 16. This was evidently the case of all Gentilism : nor hatli even among Jews, Christians, and Mahometans, who acknowledge but oneGod, 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 among us, will be found, upon inquiry, to fancy him in the shape of a man sitting in heaven, and to have many other absurd and unfit conceptions of him ? Christians, as well as Turks, have had whole sects owning and contending earnestly for it, and that the Deity was corporeal, and of human 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 thai will make it his business may find, among the ignorant and unin- structed Christians, many of that opinion. Talk but with coun- try people, almost of any age, or young people of almost any condition; and you shall find that though the name of God be frequently in their mouths, yet the notions they apply this name to are so odd, low, and pitiful, that nobody can imagine they were taught by a rational man, much less that they were charac- ters written by the finger of God himself. Nor do I see how it derogates more from the goodness of God, that he has given us minds unfurnished with these ideas of himself, than that he hath Bent us into the world with bodies unclothed, and that there is no art or skill born with us : for, being fitted with faculties to attain these, il is want of industry and consideration in us, and riot of ( il. IV. ] NO INNATE PRINCIPLES. l(Jt "bounty ia him if we have them not. It is as certain that there is awiod, as (hat the opposite angles, made by the intersection of two straight lines, are equal. There was never any rational creature, that set himself sincerely to examine the truth of these propositions, that could fail to assent to them ; though yet it be past doubt that there are many men, who, having not applied their thoughts that way, are ignorant both of the one and the other. If any one think (it to call this, (which is the utmost of its extent) universal consent, such an one I easily allow ; but such a universal consent as this proves not the idea of God, any more than it docs the idea of such angles, innate. § 17. IF THE IDEA OF GOD BE NOT INNATE, NO OTHEIl CAN BE SUP- POSED INNATE. Since, then, though the knowledge of a God be the most natu- ral discovery of human reason, yet the idea of him is not innate, as, I think, is evident from what has been said ; 1 imagine there will scarce be any other idea found, that can pretend to it : since if God hath set any impression, any character on the under- standing 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 infi- nite an object. But our minds being at first void of that idea, which we are most concerned to have, it is a strong presumption against all other innate characters. I must own, as far as I can observe, I can (hid 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 u<<- for mankind to have, as it is of general taik. as if they had it ; and (hat 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 wo see. on the contrary, that since by tbose 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 substance, but only an uncertain supposition of we know not what, i. e. of something whereof we have no particular distinct positive idea, which we take to be the substratum, or support, of those ideas we know. § 10. NO FKOrOSITIONS CAN BE INNATE, SINCE NO IDEAS ARE INNATE. Whatever then we talk of innate, either speculative or practi- cal principles it may, with as much probability, be said, that a man Math 100/. sterling iii 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 102 NO INNATE PRINCIPLES. [BOOK I, are innate, when the ideas about which they arc can by no means be supposed to be so. The general reception and assent that is given doth not at all prove that the ideas expressed in them are innate : for in many cases, however the ideas came there, the assent to words, expressing the agreement or disagree- ment of such ideas, will necessarily follow. Every one, that hath a true idea of God and worship, will assent to this proposi- tion, " that God is to be worshipped," when expressed in a lan- guage 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 sava- ges and most country people to have ideas of God and worship, (which conversation with them will not make one forward to believe,) yet 1 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 proposi- tion, 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 bo glad to be told what, and how many they arc. § 20. NO INNATE IDEAS IN THE MEMORZ. To which let me add : if there be any innate ideas, any ideas in the mind, which the mind does not actually think on, they must be lodged in the memory, and from thence must be brought into view by remembrance : i, e. must be known, when they are remembered, to have been perceptions in the mind before, un- less remembrance can be without remembrance. For to re- member is to perceive any thing with memory, or with a con- sciousness, that it was known or perceived before: without this, whatever idea comes into the mind is new, and not remembered : this consciousness of its having been in the mind before being that which distinguishes remembering from all other ways of thinking. Whatever idea was never perceived by the mind was never in the mind. Whatever idea is in the mind, is either an actual perception, or else, having been an actual perception, is so in the mind, that by the memory it can be made an actual perception again. Whenever there is the actual perception of an idea without memory, the idea appears perfectly new and un- known before to the understanding. Whenever the memory brings any idea into actual view, it is with a consciousness that it had been there before, and was not whollv a stranger to the I H. IV.] NO INNATE PRINCIPLES. 103 mind. Whether this be not so, I appeal to every one's observa- tion ; and then I desire an instance of an idea, pretended to be innate, which (before any impression of it by ways hereafter to be mentioned) any one could revive and remember as an idea he had formerly known ; without which consciousness of a for- mer perception there is no remembrance ; and whatever idc;t comes into the mind without that consciousness is not remem- bered, or comes not out of the memory, nor can be said to be in the mind before that appearance : for what is not either actu- ally in view, or in the memory, is in the mind no way at all, and is all one as if it had never been there. Suppose a child had the use of his eyes, till he knows and distinguishes colours ; but then cataracts shut the windows, and he is forty or fifty years perfectly in the dark, and in that time perfectly loses all memory of the ideas of colours he once had. This was the case of a blind man I once talked with, who lost his sight by the small-pox when lie 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 cataracts are couched, and then he has the ideas (which he remembers not) of colours de novo, by his restored sight conveyed to his mind, and that without any consciousness of a former acquaintance : and these now he can revive and call to mind in the dark. In this case all these ideas of colours, which when out of view can be revived with a con- sciousness of a former acquaintance, being thus in the memory, are said to be in the mind. The use I make of this is, that what- ever 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 per- ception 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 arc brought into the mind, they are remembered, i. c. they bring with them a perception of their not being wholly new to it. This being a constant and distinguishing difference between what is. and what is not in the memory, or in the mind ; thai 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 funis 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, thevwere never new 104 NO INNATE PRINCIPLES- [BOOK I. If any one will say that 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. PRINCIPLES NOT INNATE, BECAUSE OF LITTLE USE OR LITTLE CERTAINTY. Besides what I have already said, there is another reason why I doubt that neither these nor any other principles are innate. I that am fully persuaded that the infinitely wise God made all things in perfect wisdom, cannot satisfy myself why he should be sup- posed 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-evi- dent, and neither of them distinguishable from some other truths not allowed to be innate. For to what purpose should charac- ters be graven on the mind by the finger of God, which are not clearer there than those which are afterward introduced, or can- not be distinguished from them ? If any one thinks there are such innate ideas and propositions, which by their clearness and usefulness are distinguishable from all that is adventitious in the mind, and acquired, it will not be a hard matter for him to tell us which they are, and then every one will be a fit judge whether they be so or no ; since if there be such innate ideas and im- pressions, plainly different from all other perceptions and know- ledge, every one will find it true in himself. Of the evidence of these supposed innate maxims 1 have spoken already; of their usefulness I shall have occasion to speak more hereafter. § 22. DIFFERENCE OF MEN'S DISCOVERIES DEPENDS UPON THE DIFFERENT APPLICATION OF THEIR FACULTIES. To conclude : some ideas forwardly offer 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 deductions made with attention, before they can be discovered and assented to. Some of the first sort, because of their general and easy reception, have been mistaken for innate; but the truth is, ideas and notions are no more born with us than arts and sciences, though some of them indeed offer themselves to our faculties more readily than others, and therefore are more generally received ; though that too be according as the organs of our bodies and powers of our minds happen to be employed : God having lilted men with faculties and means to discover, receive, and retain truths, according as they are employed. The great difference that is to be found in the notions of mankind is from the different use they put their faculties to ; whilst some (and those the most) taking things upon trust, misemploy their power of assent, by lazily enslaving their minds to the dictates and do- minion of others in doctrines, which it is their duty carefully to tH. IV.] >U IINSATL PRINCIPLES. ]\)j 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 know- ledge in them, and arc 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 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 proposition may yet be utterly ignorantof 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 farther into their causes, ends, and admirable contrivances, and pursue the thoughts thereof with diligence and attention, may live long without any notion of such a being. And if any person hath by talk put such a notion into his head, he may perhaps believe it ; but if he hath never examined it, his knowledge of it will be no perfecter than his, who having been told that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right ones, takes it upon trust, without examining the demonstration ; and may yield his assent as a probable opinion, but hath no knowledge of the truth of it ; which yet his faculties, if carefully employed, were able to make clear and evident to> him. But this only by the by, to show how much our knowledge depends upon the right use of those powers nature hath bestowed, upon us, and how little upon such innate principles, as are in vain supposed to be in all mankind for their direction ; which all men could not but know, if they were there, or else they would be there to no purpose ; and which, since all men do not know, nor can distinguish from other adventitious truths,, we may well con- clude there are no such. § 23. MEN MUST THINK AND KNOW FOR THEMSELVES. What censure doubting thus of innate principles may deserve from men, who will be apt to call it pulling up the old foundations of knowledge and certainty, I cannot tell ; 1 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 ■(hat has appeared to lead, my thoughts have impartially followed, without minding whether the footsteps of any other lay. that wav Vol. I. M iUti .NO 1MSATE i«RINCIPLK> [BOOK IV. or no. iSot that I want a due respect to other men's opinions : but after all, the greatest reverence is clue 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 contem- plative knowledge, if we sought it in the fountain, in the consideration of things themselves, and made use rather of our own thoughts than other men's to find it ; for I think we may as rationally hope to see with other men's eyes, as to know by other men's understandings. So much as we ourselves consider and comprehend of truth and reason, so much we possess of real and true knowledge. The floating of other men's opinions in our brains makes us not one jot the more knowing, though they happen to be true. What in them was science, is in us but opiniatrety; whilst we give up our assent only to reverend names, and do not, as they did, employ our own reason to understand those truths which gave them reputation. Aristotle was certainly a knowing man, but nobody ever thought him so, because he blindly embraced 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 any body else so. In the sciences, every one has so much as he really knows and comprehends : what he believes only, and takes upon trust, are but shreds ; which, however well in the whole piece, make no considerable addition to his stock who gathers them. Such borrowed wealth, like fairy-money, though it were gold in the hand from which he received it, will be but leaves and dust when it comes to use. § 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 re- ceived, 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 esta- blished this tenet, 'that there are innate principles, it put their followers upon a necessity of receiving some doctrines as such : which was to take them off from the use of their own reason and judgment, and put them on believing and taking them upon trust, without farther examination : in which posture of blind credulity they might be more easily governed by, and made useful to, some sort of men, who had the skill and oiiice 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 «,n. iv.] NO INNATE PRINCIPLES. 10/ to the knowledge of many universal truths, they would have found them to result in the minds of men from the being of things themselves, when duly considered; and that they were discovered by the application of those faculties, that were fitted by nature to receive and judge of them, when duly employed about them. § 25. CONCLUSION. To show how the understanding proceeds herein is the design of the following discourse ; which 1 shall proceed to, when I have iirst 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 it is to show the falsehood or improbability of any tenet : it happening in controversial dis- courses, as it does in assaulting of towns, where, if the ground be hut firm whereon the batteries are erected, there is no farther inquiry of whom it is borrowed, nor whom it belongs to, so it affords but a fit rise for the present purpose. But in the future. part of this discourse, designing to raise an edifice uniform and consistent with itself,as far as my own experience and observation will assist me, I hope to erect it on such a basis, that I shall not need to shore it up with props and buttresses, leaning on borrowed or begged foundations ; or at least, if mine prove a castle in the air, I will endeavour it shall be all of a piece, and hang together. Wherein I warn the reader not to expect undeniable cogent demonstrations unless I may be allowed the privilege, not seldom assumed by others, to take my principles for granted ; and then, I doubt not, but 1 can demonstrate too. All that I shall say for the principles I proceed on is, that I can only appeal to men's own unprejudiced experience and observation, whether they be true or no ; and this is enough for a man who professes no more than to lay down candidly and freely his own conjectures, con- cerning a subject lying somewhat in the dark, without any other design, than an unbiassed inquiry after truth. I ( IN BOOK II. CHAPTER r. OF IDEAS IN GENERAL AND THEIR ORIGINAL. .) verse, may not have, will be a great presumption to deny. lie that will not set himself proudly at the top of all things, but will consider the immensity of this fabric, and the great variety that is to be found in this little and inconsiderable part of it which he has to do with, may be apt to think, that in other mansions of it there may be other and different intelligent beings, of whose faculties he has as little knowledge or apprehension, as a worm shut up in one drawer of a cabinet hath of the senses or under- standing 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, per- haps, there may be justly counted more : but either supposition serves equally to my present purpose. CHAPTER III. OF IDEAS OF ONE SENSE. (j 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, uid make themselves perceivable by us. First, then, There are some which come into our minds b\ one sense only. Secondly, There arc others that convey themselves into the mind by more senses than one. Thirdly, Others that arc had from reflection only. Fourthly, There arc some that make themselves way, and are -ugt,restcdto the mind by all the ways of sensation and reflection. We shall consider them apart under their several heads. IDEAS OF ONE SENSE, AS C0L0U11S, OF SEEING, SOUND, OR HEARING, ETC. First, There are some ideas which have admittance only through one sense, which is peculiarly adapted to receive them. Thus light and colours, as white, red, yellow, blue, with their several degrees or shades, and mixtures, as green, scarlet, purple, sea-green, and the rest, come in only by the eyes : all kinds of noises, sounds, and tones, only by the ears : the several tastes and smells, by the nose and palate. And if these organs, or the nerves, which arc the conduits to convey them from with- out to their audience in the brain, the mind's presence room (as I may so call it) are any of them so disordered, as not to perform their functions, they have no postern to be admitted by ; no other way to bring themselves into view. and be perceived by the un- derstanding. J Z-i IDEA OF SOLIDITY. [BOOK II The most considerable of those belonging to the touch are heat and cold, and solidity ; all the rest, consisting almost wholly in the sensible configuration, as smooth and rough, or else more, or less firm adhesion of the parts, as hard and soft, tough and brittle, are obvious enough. § 2. FEW SIMPLE IDEAS HAVE JiAMES. I think it will be needless to enumerate all the particular sim- ple ideas belonging to each sense. Nor indeed is it possible, if we would ; there being a great many more of them belonging to most of the senses, than we have names for. The variety of smells, which are as many almost, if not more, than species of bodies in the world, do most of them want names. Sweet and stinking, commonly serve our turn for these ideas, which in effect is little more than to call them pleasing or displeasing ; though the smell of a rose and violet, both sweet, are certainly very dis- tinct ideas, Nor are the different tastes, that by our palates we receive ideas of, much better provided with names. Sweet, bit- ter, sour, harsh, and salt, are almost all the epithets we have to denominate that numberless variety of relishes which are to be found distinct, not only in almost every sort of creatures, but in the different parts of the same plant, fruit, or animal. The same may be said of colours and sounds. 1 shall therefore, in the ac- count of simple ideas I ani here giving, content myself to set down only such as are most material to our present purpose, or are in themselves less apt to be taken notice of, though they are yery frequently the ingredients of our complex ideas, among which, I think, I may well account solidity ; which therefore I shall treat pf in the next chapter. CHAPTER IV OF SOLIDITY. § 1. WE RECEIVE THIS IDEA FROM TOl-CH. The idea of solidity we receive by our touch ; and it arises j'rom the resistance which we find in body, to the entrance of any other body into the place it possesses, till it has left it. There is no idea which we receive more constantly from sensation than t-olidity. Whether we move or rest, in what posture soever we •are, we always feel something under us that supports us, and hinders our farther sinking downward : and the bodies which we daily handle make us perceive, that, whilst they remain between them, they do by an insurmountable force hinder the approach of the parts of our hands that press them. That which thus hin- ders the approach of two bodies, when they are moved one CH. IV.] IDEA OF S0LIDIT1. 12a toward another, I call solidity. I will not dispute whether this acceptation of the word solid be nearer to its original signification than that which mathematicians use it in : it suffices, that I think the common notion of solidity will allow, if not justify this use of it ; but, if any one think it better to call it impenetrability, he has my consent. Only 1 have thought the term solidity the more proper to express this idea, not only because of its vulgar use in that sense, but also because it carries something more of positive in it than impenetrability, which is negative, and is perhaps more a consequence of solidity than solidity itself. This, of all others seems the idea most intimately connected with, and essential to, body, so as nowhere else to be found or imagined, but only in matter. And though our senses take no notice of it, but in masses of matter, of a bulk sufficient to cause a sensation in us ; yet the mind, having once got this idea from such grosser sensible bodies, traces it farther ; and considers it, as well as figure, in the minutest particle of matter that can exist 5 and finds it inse- parably inherent in body, wherever or however modified. § 2. SOLIDITY FILLS SPACE. This is the idea which belongs to body, whereby we conceive it to fill space. The idea of which filling of space is, that, where we imagine any space taken up by a solid substance, we con- ceive it so to possess it, that it excludes all other solid substances; and will for ever hinder any other two bodies, that move toward one another in a straight line, from coming to touch one another, unless it removes from between them, in a line not parallel to that which they move in. This idea of it the bodies which we ordinarily handle sufficiently furnish us with. § 3. DISTINCT FROM SPACE. This resistance, whereby it keeps other bodies out of the space which it possesses, is so great, that no force, how great so- ever, can surmount it. All the bodies in the world, pressing u drop of water on all sides, will never be able to overcome the resistance which it will make, sofi as it is, to their approaching one another, till it be removed out of their way : whereby ouv idea of solidity is distinguished both from pure space, which is capable neither of resistance nor motion, and from the ordinary idea of hardness. For a man may conceive two bodies at a dis- tance, so as they may approach one another, without touching or displacing any solid thing, till their superficies come to meet : whereby, 1 think, we have the clear idea of space without soli- dity. For (not to go so far as annihilation of any particular body) I ask, whether a man cannot have the idea of the motion of one single body alone without any other succeeding immedi- ately into its place ? I think it is evident he can : the idea of mo- tion in one body no more including the idea of motion in another. Uian the idea of a square figure in one body includes tne idea of 126 IDEA OF SOLIDITY. [BOOK IT. -a square figure in another. I do not ask, whether bodies do so exist that the motion of one body cannot be really without the motion of another ? To determine this cither way, is to beg the question for or against a vacuum. But my question is, whether one cannot have the idea of one body moved whilst others are at rest 1 And I think this no one will deny. If so, then the place it deserted gives us the idea of pure space without solidity, whereinto any other body may enter, without either resistance or protrusion of any thing. When the sucker in a pump is drawn, the space it filled in the tube is certainly the same whether any other body follows the motion of the sucker or not : nor does it imply a contradiction that, upon the motion of one. body, another that is only contiguous to it should not follow it. The necessity of such a motion is built only on the supposition that the world is full, but not on the distinct ideas of space and solidity ; which are as different as resistance and not resistance ; protrusion and not protrusion. And that men have ideas of space without a body, their very disputes about a vacuum plainly demonstrate ; as is showed in another place. § 4. FROM HARDNESS. Solidity is hereby also differenced from hardness, in that soli- dity consists in repletion, and so an utter exclusion of other bodies out of the space it possesses ; but hardness, in a firm cohe- sion of the parts of matter, making up masses of a sensible bulk, so that the whole does not easily change its figure. And indeed, hard and soft are names that we give to things only in relation to the constitutions of our own bodies ; that being generally called hard by us which will put us to pain sooner than change figure by the pressure of any part of our bodies ; and that on the contrary soft, which changes the situation of its parts upon an easy and unpainful touch. But this difficulty of changing the situation of the sensible parts among themselves, or of the figure of the whole, gives no more solidity to the hardest body in the world, than to the softest; nor is an adamant one jot more solid than water. For though the two flat sides of two pieces of marble will more easily ap- proach each other, between which there is nothing but water or air, than if there be a diamond between them ; yet it is not that the parts of the diamond are more solid than those of water, or resist more ; but because, the parts of water being more easily separable from each other, they will, by a side-motion, be more easily removed, and give way to the approach of the two pieces of marble. But if they could be kept from making place by that side-motion, they would eternally hinder the approach of these two pieces of marble as much as the diamond ; and it would be as impossible by any force lo surmount their resistance, as to surmount the resistance of the parts of a diamond. The softest body in the world will as invincibly resist the coming together of CII. IV.] IDEA OF SOLIDITY. [>'i any other two bodies, if it be not put out of the way, but remain between them, as the hardest that can be found or imagined. He that shall fill a yielding soft body well with air or water, will quickly find its resistance : and he that thinks that nothing but bodies that are hard can keep his hands from approaching one another, will be pleased to make a trial with the air enclosed in a football. The experiment, I have been told, was made at Flo- rence with a hollow globe of gold tilled with water, and exactly closed, which farther shows the solidity of so soft a body as water. For the golden globe thus filled being put into a press which was driven by the extreme force of screws, the water made itself way through the pores of that very close metal; and, rinding no room for a nearer approach of its particles within, got to the outside, where it rose like a dew, and so fell in drops, be- fore the sides of the globe could be make to yield to the violent compression of the engine that squeezed it. §5. ON SOLIDITY DEPEND IMPULSE, RESISTANCE, AND PROTRUSION, By this idea of solidity, is the extension of body distinguished from the extension of space : the extension of body being nothing but the cohesion or continuity of solid, separable, moveable parts 5 and the extension of space, the continuity of unsolid, in- separable, and immoveable parts. Upon the solidity of bodies also depend their mutual impulse, resistance, and protrusion. Of pure space then, and solidity, there are several, (among which I confess myself one) who persuade themselves they have clear and distinct ideas ; and that they can think on space, without any thing in it that resists or is protruded by body. This is the idea of pure space, which they think they have as clear as any idea they can have of the extension of body ; the idea of the distance between the opposite parts of a concave superficies being equally as clear without as with the idea of any solid parts between : and on the other side they persuade themselves, that they have, dis- tinct from that of pure space, the idea of something that fills space, that can be protruded by the impulse of other bodies, or resist their motion. If there be others that have not these two ideas distinct, but confound them, and make but one of them, I know not how men, who have the same idea under different names, or different ideas under the same name, can in that case talk with one another ; any more than a man, who, not being blind or deaf, has distinct ideas of the colour of scarlet, and the sound of a trumpet, could discourse concerning scarlet colour with the blind man I mention in another place, who fancied that the idea of scarlet was like the sound of a trumpet. § 6. WHAT IT IS. If any one ask me what this solidity is ? I send him to his senses to inform him ; let him put a flint or a football between his hands, and then endeavour to join them, and he will know. 128 OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF REFLECTION. [BOOK U If he thinks this not a sufficient explication of solidity, what it is, and wherein it consists, I promise to tell him what it is, and wherein it consists, when he tells me what thinking is, or wherein it consists : or explains to me what extension or motion is, which perhaps seems much easier. The simple ideas we have are such as experience teaches them us, but if, beyond that, we en- deavour by words to make them clearer in the mind, we shall succeed no better than if we went about to clear up the dark- ness of a blind man's mind by talking ; and to discourse into him the ideas of light and colours. The reason of this I shall show in another place. CHAPTER V. OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF DIVERS SENSES. The ideas we get by more than one sense are of space, or extension, figure, rest, and motion ; for these make perceivable impressions, both on the eyes and touch : and we can receive and convey into our minds the ideas of the extension, figure, motion, and rest of bodies, both by seeing and feeling. But having occasion to speak more at large of these in another place, I here only enumerate them. CHAPTER VI, OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF REFLECTION, § 1. SIMPLE IDEAS ARE THE OPERATIONS OF THE MIND ABOUT ITS OTHER IDEAS. The mind, receiving the ideas, mentioned in the foregoing chapters, from without, when it turns its view inward upon itself, and observes its own actions about those ideas it has, takes from thence other ideas, which are as capable to be the objects of its contemplation as any of those it received from foreign things. O 2. THE IDEA OF PERCEPTION, AND IDEA OF WILLING,. WE HAVE FROM REFLECTION. The two great and principal actions of the mind, which are most frequently considered, and which are so frequent, that every one that pleases may take notice of them in himself are.thesr. twos perception or thinking; and volition or willing. The GV \If.j IDEAS OF SENSATION AND REFLBCTIQN. '129 power of thinking is called the understanding, and the power of volition is called the will ; and these two powers or abilities in the mind are denominated faculties. Of some of the modes of these simple ideas of reflection, such as are remembrance, dis- cerning, reasoning, judging, knowledge, faith, &c, I shall have occasion to speak hereafter. CHAPTER VII. OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF BOTH SENSATION AND REFLECTION § 1. PLEASURE AND PAIN. There be other simple ideas which convey themselves into the mind by all the ways of sensation and reflection, viz. plea- sure or delight, and its opposite, pain or uneasiness, power, ex- istence, unity. §2. Delight or uneasiness, one or other of them, join themselves to almost all our ideas, both of sensation and reflection : and there is scarce any affection of our senses from without, any retired thought of our mind within, which is not able to produce in us pleasure or pain. By pleasure and pain I would be understood to signify whatsoever delights or molests us most ; whether it arises from the thoughts of our minds, or any thing operating on our bodies. For whether we call it satisfaction, delight, pleasure, happiness, &c. on the one side ; or uneasiness, trouble, pain, torment, anguish, misery, &c. on the other ; they are still but different degrees of the same thing, and belong to the ideas of pleasure and pain, delight or uneasiness ; which are the names I shall most commonly use for those two sorts of ideas. §3. The infinitely wise Author of our being having given us the power over several parts of our bodies, to move or keep them at rest as we think fit ; and also, by the motion of them, to move ourselves and other contiguous bodies in which consist all the actions of our body ; having also given a power to our minds in several instances, to choose, among its ideas, which it will think on, and to pursue the inquiry of this or that subject with consi- deration and attention, to excite us to these actions of thinking and motion that we are capable of; has been pleased to join to several thoughts, and several sensations, a perception of delight. If this were wholly separated from all our outward sensations and inward thoughts, we should have no reason to prefer one thought or action to another ; negligence to attention j or motion Vol, I 17 130 IDEAS OB' SENSATION AND REFLECTION. [BOOK If, to rest. And so we should neither stir our bodies nor employ our minds, but let our thoughts (if I may so call it) run adrift, without any direction or design ; and suffer the ideas of our minds, like unregarded shadows, to make their appearance there, as it happened, without attending to them. In which state man, however furnished with the faculties of understanding and will, would be a very idle inactive creature, and pass his time only in a lazy, lethargic dream. It has therefore pleased our wise Creator to annex to several objects, and the ideas which we re- ceive from them, as also to several of our thoughts, a concomi- tant pleasure, and that in several objects, to several degrees : that those faculties which he had endowed us with might not re- main wholly idle and unemployed by us. §4. Pain has the same efficacy and- use to set us on work that pleasure has, we being as ready to employ our faculties to avoid that, as to pursue this ; only this is worth our consideration, that pain is often produced by the same objects and ideas that produce pleasure in us. This their near conjunction, which makes us often feel pain in the sensations where we expected pleasure, gives us new occasion of admiring the wisdom and goodness of our Maker ; who, designing the preservation of our being, has annexed pain to the application of many things to our bodies, to warn us of the harm that they will do, and as advices to withdraw from them. But he not designing our preservation barely, but the preservation of every part and organ in its perfection, hath, in many cases, annexed pain to those very ideas which delight us. Thus heat, that is very agreeable to us in one degree, by a little greater increase of it, proves no ordinary torment •, and the most pleasant of all sensible objects, light itself, if there be too much of it, if increased beyond a due proportion to our eyes, causes a very painful sensation. Which is wisely and favourably so order- ed by nature, that when any object does by the vehemency of its operation disorder the instruments of sensation, whose structures cannot but be very nice and delicate, we might by the pain be warned to withdraw before the organ be quite put out of order, and so be unfitted for its proper function for the future. The consideration of those objects lhat produce it may well persuade us, that this is the end or use of pain. For though great light be insufferable to our eyes, yet the highest degree of darkness does not at all disease them; because that causing no disorderly motion in it, leaves that curious organ unharmed in its natural state. But yet excess of cold as well as heat pains us, because it is equally destructive to that temper which is necessary to the pre- servation of life, and the exercise of the several functions of the body, and which consists in a moderate degree of warmth ; or, if you please, a motion of the insensible parts of our bodies confined within certain bounds. CH. 711. J IDEAS OF SENSATION AND REFLECTION. Vol § 5. Bcvond all this we may find another reason, why God hath scattered up and down several degrees of pleasure and pain, in all the things that environ and affect us, and Mended them together in almost all that our thoughts and senses have to do with ; that we finding imperfection, dissatisfaction, and want of complete happiness, fn all the enjoyments which the creatures can afford us, might be led to seek it in the enjoyment of him, with whom there is fulness of joy, and at whose right hand are pleasures for evermore. § G. 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, which is the only way that we are capable of having them ; yet the consideration of the reason why they are annexed to so many other ideas, serving to give us due sentiments of the wisdom and goodness of the Sovereign Disposer of all things, may not be unsuitable to the main end of these inquiries ; the knowledge and veneration of him being the chief end of all our thoughts, and the proper business of all understandings. § 7. EXISTENCE AND UNITY. Existence and unity are two other ideas that are suggested to the understanding by every object without, and every idea with- in. When ideas arc 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 effects also that natural bodies are able to produce in one anotheroccurring 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 offered to us by what passes in our minds ; and that is the idea of succession. For if we look immediately into ourselves, and reflect on what is observable there, we shall find our ideas always, whilst we are awake, or have any thought, passing in train, one going and another uoming. without intermission. \$-& SIMPLE IDEAS. [BOOK. If § 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 andreflection. Nor let any one think these too narrow bounds for the capa- cious mind of man to expatiate in, which takes its flight farther than the stars, and cannot be confined by the limits of the world ; that extends its thoughts often even beyond the utmost expansion of matter, and makes incursionsinto 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 Avords may be made out of the various composition of twenty- four letters, or if, going one step farther, we will but reflect on the variety of combinations 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 ex- tension alone afford the mathematicians ! CHAPTER VIII. SOME FARTHER CONSIDERATIONS CONCERNING OUR SIMPLE IDEAS. § 1. fositive'ideas from privative causes. Concerning the simple ideas of sensation it is to be considered, that whatsoever is so constituted in nature as to be able, by affecting our senses, to cause any perception in the mind, doth thereby produce in the understanding a simple idea, which, what- ever be the external cause of it, when it comes to be taken notice of by our discerning faculty, it is by the mind looked on and considered there to be a real positive idea in the understand- ing, as much as any other whatsoever, though perhaps the causae of it be but privation of the subject. § 2. Thus the idea 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 understanding, in its view of them, con- C1I. V'lH.J SIMPLE IDEAS. 133 siders 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 ex- amine 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 dier, who never inquired into their causes, hath the ideas of white and black, and other colours, as clearly, per- fectly, and distinctly in his understanding, and perhaps more dis- tinctly, than the philosopher, who hath busied himself in consi- dering their natures, and thinks he knows how far either of them is in its cause positive or privative ; and the idea of black is no less positive in his mind than that of white, however the cause of that colour in the external object may be only a privation. §4. If it were the design of my present undertaking to inquire into the natural causes and manner of perception, I should offer this as a reason why a privative cause might, in some cases at least, produce a positive idea, viz. that all sensation being produced in us, only by different degrees, and modes of motion in our animal spirits, variously agitated by external objects, the abatement of any former motion must as necessarily produce a new sensation, as the variation or increase of it; and so introduce a new idea, which depends only on a different motion of the animal spirits in that organ. §5. But whether this be so or no, I will not here determine, but appeal to every one^ own experience, whether the shadow of a man, though it consists of nothing but the absence of light (and the more the absence of light is, the more discernible is the shadow) does not, when a man looks on it, cause as clear and. positive idea in his mind, as a man himself, though covered over with a clear sunshine? and the picture of a shadow is a posi- tive 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 signification of their absence. § 6. POSITIVE IDEAS FROM PRIVATIVE CAUSES. And thus one may truly be said to see darkness. For suppo- sing a hole perfectly dark, from whence no light is reflected, it is certain one may see tbe figure of it, or it may be painted; or whether the ink I write with makes any other idea, is a question. 134 SIMPLE IDEAS. [BOOK II. 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 pri- vation than motion. § 7. IDEAS IN THE MIND, QUALITIES IN BODIES. To discover the nature of our ideas the better, and to dis- course of them intelligibly, it will be convenient to distinguish them as they are ideas or perceptions in our minds, and as they are modifications of matter in the bodies that cause such percep- tions in us ; that so we may think (as perhaps usually is done'j that they are exactly the images and resemblances of something inherent in the subject ; most of those of sensation being in the mind no more the likeness of something existing without us, than the names that stand for them are the likeness of our ideas, which yet upon hearing they are apt to excite in us. §8. Whatsoever the mind perceives in itself, or is the immediate object of perception, thought, or understanding, that 1 call idea ; and the power to produce any idea in our mind I call quality of the subject wherein (hat power is. Thus a snowball having the power to produce in us the ideas of white, cold, and round, the powers to produce those ideas in us, as they a^e in the snow- ball, I call qualities ; and as they are sensations or perceptions in our understandings, I call them ideas ; which ideas, if I speak of sometimes as in the things themselves, I would be understood to mean those qualities in the objects which produce them in us. § 9 PRIMARY QUALITIES. Qualities thus considered in bodies are, first, such as are utter- ly inseparable from the body, in what estate soever it be ; such as in all the alterations and changes it suffers, all the force can be used upon it, it constantly keeps ; and such as sense con- stantly finds in every particle of matter which has bulk enough to be perceived, and the man finds inseparable from every parti- cle 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 di- vide 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, exten- sion, 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 dis- tinct bodies, after division make a certain number. These I CH. VIII.] WHAT IDEAS RESEMBLANCES. 135 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 ob- jects 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 colour, sounds, tastes, &c. these I call secondary qualities. To these might be added a third sort, which are 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 distinc- tion, secondary qualities. For the power in fire to produce a new colour, or consistency, in wax or clay, by its primary quali- ties, 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 1 felt not before, by the same primary qualities, viz. the bulk, texture, and motion of its insensible parts. § 11. HOW 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 quali- ties in such ot them as singly fall under our senses, it is evident that some motion must be thence continued by our nerves or ani- mal 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 bigm ss. may be perceived at a distance by the sight, it is evident some singly imperceptible bodies must come from them to the eyes, and thereby convey to the brain some motion, which produces these ideas which we have of them in us. § 13. HOW SECONDARY. After the same manner that the ideas of these original qualities are produced in us, we may conceive that the ideas of secondary qualities are also produced, viz. by the 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 small- er than the particles of air and water, as the particles of air and water are smaller than peas or hailstones ; Jet us sup- 136 WHAT IDEAS RESEMBLANCES. [BOOK II. pose at present, that the different motions and figures, bulk and number of such particles, affecting the several organs of our senses, produce in us those different sensations, which we have from the colours and smells of bodies ; v. g. that a violet, by the impulse of such insensible particles of matter of peculiar figures and bulks, and in different degrees and modifications of their mo- tions, 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, Avith which that idea hath no resemblance. § 14. What I have said concerning colours and smells may be under- stood also of tastes and sounds, and other the like sensible quali- ties ; which, whatever reality we by mistake attribute to them, are in truth nothing in the objects themselves, but powers to produce various sensations in us, and depend on those primary qualities, viz. bulk, figure, texture, and motion of parts, as I have said. S 15. IDEAS OF PRIMARY QUALITIES ARE RESEMBLANCES ; OF SECON- DARY, 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 re- semblance of them at all. There is nothing like our ideas exist- ing in the bodies themselves. They are in the bodies, we deno- minate 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. §1G. 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 bo- dies 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 ap- proach produce in us the far different sensation of pain, ought to bethink himself what reason he has to say, that his idea oi 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 C!T. Vlll . PRIMAR5 QUAD 1 1 1. % I .j? 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 no ; and therefore they may be called real qualities, because they really exist in those bodies ; but light, heat, whiteness, or coldness, are no more really in them than sickness or pain is in manna. Take away the sensation of them ; let not the eyes see light or colours, nor the cars hear sounds : let the palate not taste, nor the nose smell ; and all colours, tastes, odours, and sounds, as they are such particular ideas, va- nish and cease, and are reduced to their causes, i. e. bulk, figure. and motion of parts. § IS- A piece of manna of a sensible bulk is able to produce in us the idea of a round or square figure, and, by being removed from one place to another, the idea of motion. This idea of motion represents it as it really is in the manna moving : a circle or square are the same, whether in idea or existence, in the mind or in the manna ; and this both motion and figure are really in the manna, whether we take notice of them or no : this every body 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 acutepains orgripings in us. That these ideas of sickness and pain are not in the manna, but effects of its operations on us, and are nowhere when we feel them not : this also every one readily agrees to. And yet men are hardly to be brought to think, that sweetness and whiteness are not really in manna ; which are but the effects of the operations of manna, by the motion, size, and figure of its particles on the eyes and palate ; as the pain and sickness caused by manna are confessedly nothing but the effects of its operations on the stomach and guts, by the size, motion, and figure of its in- sensible parts (for by nothing else can a body operate, as has been proved ;) as if it could not operate on the eyes and palate, and thereby produce in the mind particular distinct ideas,which in itself it has not, as well as we allow it can operate on the guts and stomach, and thereby produce distinct ideas, which in itself it has not. These ideas being all effects of the operations of manna on several parts of our bodies, by the size, figure, number, and motion of its parts ; why those produced by the eyes and palate, should rather be thought to be really in the manna than those produced by the stomach and guts ; or why the pain and sickness, ideas that are the effects of manna, should be thought to be no- where when they arc not felt ; and yet the sweetness and white- ness, effects of the same manna on other parts of the body, by Vol, I. 10 iob SECONDARY QUALITIES. [BOOK II. ways equally as unknown, should be thought to exist in the manna, when they are not seen or tasted, would need some rea- son to explain. §' 19. IDEAS OF PRIMARY QUALITIES ARE RESEMBLANCES ; OF SECON- DARY, NOT. Let us consider the red and white colours in porphyry : hin- der light from striking on it, and its colours vanish, it no longer produces any such ideas in us ; upon the return of light it pro- duces these appearances on us again. Can any one think any real alterations are made in the porphyry by the presence or ab- sence 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 ? 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 in the minute particles of our nerves or animal spirits, we may understand how it is possible that the same water may, at the same time, produce the sensations of heat in one hand, and cold in the other ; which yet figure never does, that never producing the idea of a square by one hand, which has produced the idea of a globe by another. But if the sensation of heat and cold be nothing but the increase or diminution of the motion of the minute parts of our bodies, caused by the corpuscles of any other body, it is easy to be under- stood, that if that motion be greater in one hand than in the other; if a body be applied to the two hands, which has in its minute particles a greater motion, than in those of one of the hands, and a less than in those of the other; it will increase the motion of the one hand, and lessen it in the other, and so cause the differ- ent sensations of heat and cold that depend thereon. CH. Till] SECONDARY QUALITIES 18$ I have in what just goes before been engaged in physical in- quiries a little farther 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 con- ceived, without which it were impossible to discourse intelligibly of them, I hope I shall be pardoned this little excursion into na- tural philosophy, it being necessary in our present inquiry to dis- tinguish the primary and real qualities of bodies, which arc always in them, (viz. solidity, extension, figure, number, and motion, or rest ; and are sometimes perceived by us, viz. when the bodies they are in are big enough singly to be discerned) from those se- condary and imputed qualities, which are but the powers of seve- ral combinations of those primary ones, when they operate, without being distinctly discerned ; whereby we may also come io know what ideas are, and what are not, resemblances of some- thing really existing in the bodies we denominate from them. § 23. THREE SORTS OF QUALITIES IN BODIES. The qualities then that are in bodies, rightly considered, are of three sorts. First, The bulk, figure, number, situation, and motion or rest of their solid parts ; those are in them, whether we perceive them or no; and when they are of that size that we can discover them, we have by these an idea of the thing, as it is in itself, as is plain in artificial things. These I call primary qualities. Secondly, The power that is in any body, by reason of its insensible primary qualities, to operate after a peculiar manner on any of our senses, and thereby produce in us the different ideas of several colours, sounds, smells, tastes, &c. These are usually called sensible qualities. Thirdly, The power that is in any body, by reason of the particular constitution of its primary qualities, to make such a change in the bulk, figure, texture, and motion of another body, as to make it operate on our senses, differently from what it did before. Thus the sun has a power to make wax white, and fire to make lead fluid. These are usually called powers. The first of these, as has been said, I think may be properly called real, original, or primary qualities, because they are in the things themselves, whether they are perceived or no ; and upon their different modifications it is, that the secondary qualities depend. The other two arc only powers to act differently upon other things, which powers result from the different modifications of those primary qualities. I4U .SECONDARY QUALITIES. [BOOK It', § 24. THE FIRST ARE RESEMBLANCES. THE SECOND THOUGHT RESEM- BLANCES, BUT ARE NOT. THE THIRD NEITHER ARE, NOR ARE THOUGHT SO. But though the two latter sorts of qualities are powers barely, and nothing but powers, relating to several other bodies, and re- sulting 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 Ave con- sider 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 : where- as, 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 ail of them equally powers in the sun, depending on its pri- mary qualities ; whereby it is able, in one case, so to alter the bulk, figure, texture, or motion of some of the insensible parts of my eyes or hands, as thereby to produce in me the idea of light or heat ; and in the other, it is able so to alter the bulk, figure, texture, or motion of the insensible parts of the wax, as to make them fit to produce in me the distinct ideas of white and fluid. §25. The reason why the one are ordinarily taken for real qualities, And the other only for bare powers, seems to be because the ideas we have of distinct colours, sounds, &c. containing nothing at all in them of bulk, figure, or motion, we are not apt to think them the effects of these primary qualities, which appear not, to our senses, to operate in their production ; and with which they have not any apparent congruity, or conceivable connexion. Hence it is that we are so forward to imagine, that those ideas are the resemblances of something really existing in the objects themselves : since sensation discovers nothing of bulk, figure, or motion of parts in their production ; nor can reason show how bodies, by their bulk, figure, and motion, should produce in the mind the ideas of blue or yellow, &c. But in the other case, in the operations of bodies, changing the qualities one of another, we plainly discover, that the quality produced hath commonly no resemblance with any thing in the thing producing 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 CH~ IX.] OF PERCEPTION. 141 the sun, we cannot imagine that to be the reception or resem- blance of any thing 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 exter- nal 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 f>roduced it. But our senses not being able to discover any un- ikeness between the idea produced in us, and the quality of the object producing it, we are apt to imagine that our ideas and resemblances of something in the objects, and not the effects of certain powers placed in the modification of their primary quali- ties, with which primary qualities the ideas produced in us have no resemblance. § 26. SECONDARY QUALITIES TWOFOLD ; FIRST, IMMEDIATELY FER- 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 seve- ral powers in them depending on those primary qualities; where- by they are fitted, either by immediately operating on our bodies to produce several different ideas in us ; or else, by operating oa 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 formerof these, I think, may be called secondary qualities, immediately perceivable : the latter, secondary quali- ties, mediately perceivable. CHAPTER IX. OF PERCEPTION. § 1. PERCEPTION THE FIRST SIMPLE IDEA OF REFLECTION. Perception, as it is the first faculty of the mind, exercised about our ideas ; so it is. the first and simplest idea we have from reflection, and is, by some called thinking in general. Though thinking, in the propriety of the English tongue, signifies that sort of operation in the mind about its ideas, wherein the mind is active ; where it, with some degree of voluntary attention, con- siders any thing. For in bare naked perception, the mind is, for the most part, only passive ; and what it perceives, it cannot avoid perceiving. 142 OF PERCEPTION. [BOOK li. § 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, &c. or thinks, than by any discourse of mine. Whoever reflects on what passes in his own mind, cannot miss it : and if he does not reflect, all the words in the world cannot make him have any notion of it. §3. This is certain, that whatever alterations are made in the body, if they reach not the mind ; whatever impressions are made on the outward parts, if they are not taken notice of within ; there is no perception. Fire may burn our bodies, with no other effect than it does a billet, unless the motion be continued to the brain, and there the sense of heat, or idea of pain, be produced in the mind wherein consists actual perception. §4. How often may a man observe in himself, that whilst his mind is intently employed in the contemplation of some objects, and curiously surveying some ideas that are there, it takes no notice of impressions of sounding bodies made upon the organ of hearing with the same alteration that uses to be for the producing the idea of sound. A sufficient impulse there may be on the organ ; but if not reaching the observation of the mind, there follows no perception ; and though the motion that uses to produce the idea of sound be made in the ear, yet no sound is heard. Want of sensation, in this case, is not through any defect in the organ, or that the man's ears are less affected than at other times when he does hear : but that which uses to produce the idea, though conveyed in by the usual organ, not being taken notice of in the understanding, and so imprinting no idea in the mind, there fol- lows no sensation. So that wherever there is sense, or percep- tion, there some idea is actually produced and present in the understanding. 0 5. CHILDREN, THOUGH THEY HAVE IDEAS IN THE WOMB, HAVE NONE INNATE. Therefore I doubt not but children, by the exercise of their senses about objects that affect them in the womb, receive some few ideas before they are born; as the unavoidable effects, either of the bodies that environ them, or else of those wants or dis- eases they suffer : among which (if one may conjecture concern- ing things not very capable of examination) I think the ideas of hunger and warmth are two ; which probably are some of the first that children have, and which they scarce ever part with again. '■.M IX.*] OF PERCEPTION. 14 J §6. But though it be reasonable to imagine that children receive some ideas before they come into the world, yet those simple ideas arc far from those innate principles which some contend for, and we above have rejected. These here mentioned being the effects of sensation, are only from some affections of the body, which happen to them there, and so depend on something exterior to the mind ; no otherwise differing in their manner of production from other ideas derived from sense, but only in the precedency of time ; whereas those innate principles are supposed to be quite of another nature, not coming into the mind by any accidental alterations in, or operations on, the body, but, as it were, original characters impressed upon it in the very first moment of its being, and constitution. § 7. WHICH IDEAS FIRST, IS NOT EVIDENT. As there are some ideas which we may reasonably suppose may be introduced into the minds of children in the womb, subser- vient to the necessities of their life and being there ; so after they are born, those ideas are the earliest imprinted which hap- pen to be the sensible qualities which first occur to them: among which, light is not the least considerable, nor of the weakest effi- cacy. And how covetous the mind is to be furnished with all such ideas as have no pain accompanying them, may be a little guessed by what is observable in children new-born, who always turn their eyes to that part from whence the light comes, lay them how you please. But the ideas that are most familiar at first being various, according to the divers circumstances of children's first entertain- ment in the world, the order wherein the several ideas come at first into the mind is very various and uncertain also ; neither is it much material to know it. § 8. IDEAS OF SENSATION OFTEN CHANGED BY THE JUDGMENT. We are further to consider concerning perception, that the ideas we receive by sensation are often in grown people altered by the judgment, without our taking notice of it. When we set before our eyes a round globe, of any uniform colour, v. g. gold, alabaster, or jet, it is certain that the idea thereby imprinted in our mind is of a flat circle variously shadowed, with several degrees of light and brightness coming to our eyes ; but we having by use been accustomed to perceive what kind of appearance convex bodies are wont to make in us, what alterations are made in the reflections of light by the difference of the sensible figures of bodies, the judgment presently, by an habitual custom, alters ihc appearances into their causes ; so that from that which is truly variety of shadow or colour, collecting the figure, it makes it pass for a mark or figure, and frames to itself the perception of a convex figure and a uniform colour: when the idea we receive from thence is only a plane, variously coloured, as is evident in i44 Of PERCEPTION [BOOK JL painting. To which purpose I shall here insert a problem of that very ingenious and studious promoter of real knowledge, the learned and worthy Mr. Molineaux, which he was pleased to send me in a letter some months since ; and it is this : Suppose a man born blind and now adult, and taught by his touch to dis- tinguish between a cube and a sphere of the same metal, and nighly of the same bigness, so as to tell when he felt one and the other, which is the cube, which the sphere. Suppose then the cube and the sphere placed on a table, and the blind man be made to see : quaere, "whether by his sight, before he touched them, he could now distinguish and tell which is the globe, which the cube ?" to which the acute and judicious proposer answers, Not. For though he has obtained the experience of how a globe, how a cube affects his touch ; yet he has not yet obtained the experience, that what affects his touch so or so, must affect his sight so or so ; or that a protuberant angle in the cube that press- ed his hand unequally, shall appear to his eye as it does in the cube. I agree with this thinking gentleman, whom I am proud to call my friend, in his answer to this his problem ; and am of opinion, that the blind man, at first sight, would not be able with certainty to say, which was the globe, which the cube, whilst he only saw them : though he could unerringly name them by his touch, and certainly distinguish them by the difference of their figures felt. This I have set down, and leave with my reader, as an occasion for him to consider how much he may be beholden to experience, improvement, and acquired notions, where he thinks he had not the least use of or help from them : and the rather, because this observing gentleman farther adds, that having, upon the occasion of my book, proposed this to divers very ingenious men, be hardly ever met with one, that at first gave the answer to it which he thinks true, till by hearing his reasons they were convinced. But this is not, I think, usual in any of our ideas but those received by sight : because sight, the most comprehensive of all our senses, conveying to our minds the ideas of light and colours, which are peculiar only to that sense ; and also the far different ideas of space, figure, and motion, the several varieties whereof change the appearances of its proper object, viz. light and co- lours; we bring ourselves by use to judge of the one by the other. This, in many cases, by a settled habit, in things whereof we have frequent experience, is performed so constantly, and so quick, that we take that for the reception of our sensation which is an idea formed by our judgment: so that one, viz. that of sensa- tion, serves only to excite the other, and is scarce taken notice of itself: as a man who reads or hears with attention and under- standing, takes little notice of the characters or sounds, but of' (he ideas (hat are excited in him bv them= Cflf. IX.j dP PERCEPTION. XJ 1 5 § 10. Nor need we wonder tliat this is done with so little notice, it we consider how very quick the actions of the mind are perform- ed : for as itself is thought to take up no space, to have no extension ; so its actions seem to require no time, but many of them seem to be crowded into an instant. I speak this in com- parison to the actions of the body. Any one may easily observe this in his own thoughts, who will take the pains to reflect on them. How, as it were in an instant, do our minds with one glance see all the parts of a demonstration, which may very well be called a long one, if we consider the time it will require to put it into words, and step by step show it another! Secondly, we shall not be so much surprised that this is done in us with so little notice, if we consider how the facility which we get of doing things, by a custom of doing, makes them often pass in us with- out our notice. Habits, especially such as are begun very early, come at last to produce actions in us which often escape our ob- servation. How frequently do we, in a day, cover our eyes witU our eyelids, without perceiving that we are at all in the dark! Men that by custom have got the use of a by-word, do almost in every sentence pronounce sounds which, though taken notice of by others, they themselves neither hear nor observe ; and there- fore it is not so strange that our mind should often change the idea of its sensation into that of its judgment, and make one serve only to excite the other, without our taking notice of it. § 11. PERCEPTION PUTS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN ANIMAtS ANT* INFERIOR BEINGS. This faculty of perception seems to me to be that which puts the distinction betwixt the animal kingdom and the inferior parts of nature. For however vegetables have, many of them, some de- grees of motion, and upon the different application of other bodies to them, do very briskly alter their figures and motions, and so have obtained the name of sensitive plants, from a motion which has some resemblance to that which in animals follows upon sensation ; yet I suppose it is all bare mechanism, and no other- wise produced than the turning of a wild, oat-beard, by the insi- nuation of the particles of moisture, or the shortening of a rope by the affusion of water ; all which is done without any sensation in the subject, or the having or receiving any ideas. §12. Perception, I believe, is in some degree in all sorts of animals; though in some, possibly, the avenues provided by nature for the reception of sensations are so few, and the perception they are received with so obscure and dull, that it comes extremely short of the quickness and variety of sensation which are in other ani- mals ; but yet it is sufficient for, and wisely adapted to. the state Vol. !• ' 10 146 OF PERCEPTIOIS. [BOOR li and condition of that sort of animals who are thus made ; so that the wisdom and goodness of the Maker plainly appear in all the parts of this stupendous fabric, and all the several degrees and ranks of creatures in it. § 13.' We mav. I think, from the make of an oyster or cockle, reason- ably conclude that it has not so many nor so quick senses as a man, or several other animals ; nor if it had, would it, in that state and incapacity of transferring itself from one place to another, be bettered by them. What good would sight and hear- in«- do to a creature that cannot move itself to or from the objects wherein at a distance it perceives good or evil ? And would not quickness of sensation be an inconvenience to an animal that must lie still, where chance has once placed it; and there receive the afflux of colder or warmer, clean or foul water, as it happens to come to it ? §14. But yet I cannot but think there is some small dull perception whereby they are distinguished from perfect insensibility. And that this may be so, we have plain instances even in mankind itself. Take one, in whom decrepit old age has blotted out the memory of his past knowledge, and clearly wiped out the ideas his mind was formerly, stored with : and has, by destroying his sight, hearing, and smell quite, and his taste to a great degree, stopped up almost all the passages for new ones to enter ; or, if there be some of the inlets yet half open, the impressions made are scarce perceived, or not at all retained. How far such an one (notwithstanding all that is boasted of innate principles) is in his knowledge and intellectual faculties above the condition of a cockle or an oyster, I leave to be considered. And if a man had passed sixty years in such a state, as it is possible he might, as well as three days, I wonder what difference there would have been, in any intellectual perfections, between him and the lowest degree of animals. § 15. PERCEPTION THE INLET OF KNOWLEDGE. Perception then being the first step and degree towards know- ledge, and the inlet of all the materials of it, the fewer senses any man, as well as any other creature, hath, and the fewer and duller the impressions are that are made by them, and the duller the faculties are that are employed about them, the more remote are they from that knowledge which is to be found in some men. But this being in great variety of degrees (as may be perceived among men) cannot certainly be discovered in the several species of animals, much less in their particular individuals. It suffices me only to have remarked here, that perception is the first operation of all our intellectual faculties, and the inlet of Vil. X.J OF RETENTION. 147 all knowledge in our minds : and I am apt too to imagine that it is perception, in the lowest degree of it, which puts the boun- daries between animals and the inferior ranks of creatures. But this I mention only as my conjecture by the by; it being indiffer- ent to the matter in hand which way the learned shall determine of it. CHAPTER X. OF RETENTION. § 1. CONTEMFI ATIO.Y. The next faculty of the mind, whereby it makes a farther pro" gress toward knowledge, is that which 1 call retention, or the keeping of those simple ideas which from sensation or reflection it hath received. This is done two ways ; first, by keeping the. idea, which is brought into it, for some time actually in view : which is called contemplation. § 2. MEMORY. The other way of retention is the power to revive again in our minds those ideas which after imprinting have disappeared, or have been as it were laid aside out of sight : and thus we do when we conceive heat or light, yellow or sweet, the object being removed. This is memory, which is as it were the store-house of our ideas. For the narrow mind of man not being capable of having many ideas under view and consideration at once, it was necessary to have a repository to lay up those ideas, which at another time it might have use of. But our ideas being nothing but actual perceptions in the mind, which cease to be any thing when there is no perception of them, this laying up of our ideas in the repository of the memory signifies no more but this, that the mind has a power in many cases to revive perceptions which it once had, with this additional perception annexed to them, that it has had them before. And in this sense it is, that our ideas are said to be in our memories, when indeed they are ac- tually lyawhere, but only there is an ability in the mind when ii will to revive them again, and as it were paint them anew on itself, though some with more, some with less difficulty; some more lively, and others more obscurely. And thus it is. by the assistance of this faculty, that we are to have ail those ideas in our understandings, which though we do not actually contem- plate, yet we can bring in sight, and make appear auam, and be the objects of our thoughts, without the help of those sensible qualities which first imprinted them there. I 4$ OF RETENtfldHT. [book n". § 3. A TTKVTIOX, REPETITION, PLEASURE, AND FAIN, FIX IDEAS. Attention and repetition help much to the fixing any ideas in the memory : but those which naturally at first make the deep- est and most lasting impression are those which are accompanied with pleasure or pain. The great business of the senses being to make us take notice of what hurts or advantages the body, it is wisely ordered by nature (as has been shown) that pain should accompany the reception of several ideas ; which, sup- plying the place of consideration and reasoning in children, and acting quicker than consideration in grown men, makes both the old and young avoid painful objects with that haste which is necessary for their preservation ; and, in both, settles in the me- mory a caution for the future. § 4. IDEAS FADE IN THE MEMORY. Concerning the several degrees of lasting, wherewith ideas are imprinted on the memory, we may observe, that some of them have been produced in the understanding by an object affecting the senses once only, and no more than once ; others, that have more than once offered themselves to the senses, have yet been little taken notice of: the mind either heedless, as in children, or otherwise employed, as in men, intent only on one thing, not setting the stamp deep into itself: and in some, where they are set on with care and repeated impressions, either through the temper of the body, or some other fault, the memory is very weak. In all these cases, ideas in the mind quickly fade, and often vanish quite out of the understanding, leaving no more footsteps or remaining characters of themselves than shadows do flying over fields of corn ; and the mind is as void of them as if they had never been there. Thus many of those ideas which were produced in the minds of children, in the beginning of their sensation, (some of which, yerhaps, as of some pleasures and pains, were before they were horn, and others in their infancy,) if in the future course of their lives they are not repeated again, are quite lost, without the least glimpse remaining of them. This may be observed in those who by some mischance have lost their sight when they were very young, in whom the ideas of colours having been but slightly taken notice of, and ceasing to be repeated, do quite wear out ; so that some years after there is no more notion nor memory of colours left in their minds than in those of people born blind. The memory of some, it is true, is very tenacious, even to a miracle : but yet there seems to be a constant decay of all our ideas, even of those which are struck deepest, and in minds the most retentive ; so that if they be not sometimes re- newed by repeated exercises of the senses, or reflection on those kinds of objects wbith at first occasioned them, the print wear* Yjl. X. j OF RETENTION. 149 out, and at last there remains nothing to be seen. Thus the ideas, as well as children of our youth often die before us : and our minds represent to us those tombs to which we are approaching ; where though the brass and marble remain, yet the inscriptions are effaced by time, and the imagery moulders away. The pic- tures drawn in our minds are laid in fading colours, and, if not sometimes refreshed, vanish and disappear. How much the constitution of our bodies and the make of our animal spirits are concerned in this, and whether the temper of the brain makes this difference, that in some it retains the characters drawn on it like marble, in others like freestone, and in others little better than sand. 1 shall not here inquire ; though it may seem probable, that the constitution of the body does sometimes influence the memory ; since we oftentimes find a disease quite strip the mind of all its ideas, and the flames of a fever in a few days calcine all those images to dust and confusion, which seemed to be as lasting as if graved in marble. § 6. CONSTANTLY REPEATED IDEAS CAN SCARCE BE LOST. . But concerning the ideas themselves, it is eas\ to remark that those that are oftenest refreshed (among which are those that are conveyed into the mind by more ways than one) by a frequent return of the objects or actions that produce them, fix themselves best in the memory, and remain clearest and longest there : and therefore those which are of the original qualities of hordes, viz. solidity, extension, figure, motion, and rest; and those that almost constantly affect our bodies, as heat and cold ; and those which are the affections of all kinds of beings, as existence, duration, and number, which almost every object that affects our senses, every thought which employs our minds, bring along with them : these, I say, and the like ideas, are seldom quite lost whilst the mind retains any ideas at all. § 7. IN REMEMBERING, THE MIND IS OFTEN ACTIVE. In this secondary perception, as I may so call it, or viewing again the ideas that are lodged in the memory, the mind is often times more than barely passive ; the appearance of those dor- mant pictures depending sometimes on the will. The mind very often sets itself on work in search of some hidden idea, and turns as it were the eye of the soul upon it ; though sometimes too they start up in our minds of their own accord, and offer themselves to the understanding ; and very often are roused and tumbled out of their dark cells into open daylight by turbulent and tempestuous, passions, our affections bringing ideas to our memory, which had otherwise lain quiet and unregarded. This farther is to be observed, concerning ideas lodged in the memory, and upon occasion revived by the mind, that they are not only (as the word revive imports) none of them new ones 5 but also that the mind frak^s notirr of them, as r>f a former impression. 150 OF RETENTION. [BOOKH. and renews its acquaintance with them as with ideas it had known before ; so that though ideas formerly imprinted are not all constantly in view, yet in remembrance they are constantly known to be such as have been formerly imprinted, i. e. in view, and taken notice of before by the understanding. § 8. TWO DEFECTS IN THE MEMORY, OBLIVION AND SLOWNESS. Memory in an intellectual creature, is necessary in the next degree to perception. It is of so great moment, that where it is wanting, all the rest of our faculties are in a great measure use- less ; and we, in our thoughts, reasonings, and knowledge, could not proceed beyond present objects, were it not for the assistance of our memories, wherein there may be two defects. First, That it loses the idea quite, and so far it produces per- fect ignorance ; for since we can know nothing farther than we have the idea of it, when that is gone, we are in perfect igno- rance. Secondly, That it moves slowly, and retrieves not the ideas that it has, and are laid up in store, quick enough to serve the mind upon occasion. This, if it be to a great degree, is stupidity; and he who, through this default in his memory, has not the ideas that are really preserved there ready at hand when need and occasion call for them, were almost as good be without them quite, since they serve him to little purpose. The dull man, who loses the opportunity whilst he is seeking in his mind for those ideas that should serve his turn, is not much more happy in his knowledge than one that is perfectly ignorant. It is the business therefore of the memory to furnish to the mind those dormant ideas which it has present occasion for ; in the having them ready at hand on all occasions consists that which we call inven- tion, fancy, and quickness of parts. §9. These are defects, we may observe, in the memory of one man compared with another. There is another defect which we may conceive to be in the memory of man in general, com- pared with some superior created intellectual beings, which in this, faculty may so far excel man, that they may have constantly in view the whole scene of all their former actions, wherein no one of the thoughts they have ever had may slip out of their sight. The omniscience of God, who knows all things, past, present, and to come, and to whom the thoughts of men's hearts always lie open, may satisfy us of the possibility of this. For who can doubt but God may communicate to those glorious spirits, his immediate attendants, any of his perfections, in what propor- tions he pleases, as far as created finite beings can be capable '/ It is reported of that prodigy of parts, Monsieur Pascal, that till the decay of his health had impaired his memory, he forgot nothing of what he had done. read, or thought, in any part of CH. X.j OP RETENTION. 151 his rational age. This is a privilege so little known to most men, that it seems almost incredible to those who, after the or- dinary way, measure all others by themselves ; but yet, when considered, may help us to enlarge our thoughts towards greater perfection of it in superior ranks of spirits. For this of Mr. Pascal was still with the narrowness that human minds are con- fined to here, of having great variety of ideas only by succe^sion, not all at once ; whereas the several degrees of angels may pro- bably have larger views, and some of them be endowed with capacities able to retain together, and constantly set before them, as in one picture, all their past knowledge at once. This, we may conceive, would be no small advantage to the knowledge of a thinking man, if all his past thoughts and reasonings could be always present to him : and therefore we may suppose it one of those ways wherein the knowledge of separate spirits may ex- ceedingly surpass ours. § 10. BRUTES HAVE MEMORV. This faculty of laying up and retaining the ideas that are brought into the mind, several other animals seem to have to a great degree, as well as man : for, to pass by other instances, birds learning of tunes, and the endeavours one may observe in them to hit the notes right, put it past doubt with me that they have perception, and retain ideas in their memories, and use them for patterns : for it seems to me impossible that they should endea- vour to conform their voices to notes (as it is plain they do) of which they had no ideas. For though I should grant sound may mechanically cause a certain motion of the animal spirits, in the brains of those birds, whilst the tune is actually playing; and that motion may be continued on to the muscles of the wings, and so the bird mechanically be driven away by certain noises, because this may tend to the bird's preservation ; yet that can never be supposed a reason why it should cause mechanically, either whilst the tune is playing, much less after it has ceased, such a motion of the organs in the bird's voice, as should con- form it to the notes of a foreign sound, which imitation can be of no use to the bird's preservation. But, which is more, it cannot with any appearance of reason be supposed (much iess proved) that birds, without sense and memory, can approach their notes nearer and nearer by degrees to a tune played yesterday, which ii they have no idea of in their memory, is nowhere, nor can be a pattern for them to imitate, or which any repeated essays can bring them nearer to : since there is no reason why the sound of a pipe should leave traces in their brains, which not at first, but by their after endeavours, should produce the like sounds ; and why the sounds they make themselves should not make traces which they should follow, as well as those of the pipe, is impossi- ble to conceive. I5i> CHAPTER XI. OF DISCERNING AND OTHER OPERATIONS OF THE -MIND § 1. NO KNOWLEDGE WITHOUT DISCERNMENT. Another faculty we may take notice of in our minds, is that of discerning and distinguishing between the several ideas it has. It is not enough to have a confused perception of something in general : unless the mind had a distinct perception of different objects and their qualities, it would be capable of very little knowledge, though the bodies that affect us were as busy about us as they are now, and the mind were continually employed in thinking. On this faculty of distinguishing one thing from ano- ther depends the evidence and certainty, of several, even very general propositions, which have passed for innate truths, because men, overlooking the true cause why those propositions find uni- versal assent, impute it wholly to native uniform impressions, whereas in truth it depends upon this clear discerning faculty of the mind, whereby it perceives two ideas to be the same or dif- ferent. But of this more hereafter. § 2. THE DIFFERENCE OF WIT AND JUDGMENT. How much the imperfection of accurately discriminating ideas one from another lies either in the dulness or faults of the organs of sense, or want of acuteness, exercise, or attention in the un- derstanding, or hastiness and precipitancy, natural to some tem- pers, I will not here examine ; it suffices to take notice, that this is one of the operations that the mind may reflect on and observe in itself. It is of that consequence to its other knowledge, that so far as this faculty is in itself dull, or nor rightly made use of, for the distinguishing one thing from another, so far our notions are confused, and our reason and judgment disturbed or misled. If in having our ideas in the memory ready at hand consists quickness of parts : in this of having them unconfused, and be- ing able nicely to distinguish one thing from another, where there is but the least difference, consists, in a great measure, the ex- actness of judgment and clearness of reason, which is to be observed in one man above another. And hence perhaps may be given some reason of that common observation, that men who have a great deal of wit, and prompt memories, have not always the clearest judgment or deepest reason : for wit lying most in the assemblage of ideas, and putting those together with quickness and variety, wherein can be found any resem- blance or congruity, thereby to make up pleasant pictures and agreeable visions in the fancy ; judgment, on the contrary, lies quite on the other side, in separating carefully, one from ano- ther, ideas, wherein can bp found the least difference, therein CH. XI. j BI8« ERNINGi 1/iJ to avoid being misled by similitude, and by affinity to take one thing for another. This is a way of proceeding quite contrary to metaphor and allusion, wherein for the most part lies that entertainment and pleasantry of wit which strikes so lively on the fancy, and therefore is so acceptable to all people, because its beauty appears at first sight, and there is required no labour of thought to examine what truth or reason there is in it. The mind, without looking any farther, rests satisfied with the agree- ablcness of the picture, and the gayety of the fancy ; and it is a kind of an affront to go about to examine it by the severe rules of truth and good reason; whereby it appears that it consists in something that is not perfectly conformable to them. § 3. CLEARNESS ALONE HINDERS CONFUSION. To the well distinguishing our ideas, it chiefly contributes that they be clear and determinate ; and where they are so, it will not breed any confusion or mistake about them, though the senses >hould (as sometimes they do) convey them from the same object differently on different occasions, and so seem to err : for though a man in a fever should from sugar have a bitter taste, which at another time would produce a sweet one, yet the idea of bitter in that man's mind would be as clear and distinct from the idea of sweet as if he had tasted only gall. Nor does it make any more confusion between the two ideas of sweet and bitter, that the same sort of body produces at one time one, and at another lime another idea by the taste, than it makes a confusion in two ideas of white and sweet, or white and round, that the same piece of sugar produces them both in the mind at the same time. And the ideas of orange colour and azure that are produced in the mind by the same parcel of the infusion of lignum nephriti- cum, are no less distinct ideas than those of the same colour^ taken from two very different bodies. § 4. COMPARING. The comparing them one with another, in respect of extent* degrees, time, place, or any other circumstances, is another ope- ration of the mind about its ideas, and is that upon which depends all that large tribe of ideas comprehended under relations ; which of how vast an extent it is I shall have occasion to consider hereafter. § 5. BRUTES COMPARE BUT IMPKRFECTL Y. How far brutes partake in this faculty is not easy to determine: I imagine they have it not in any great degree ; for though they probably lmve several ideas distinct enough, yet it seems to me lo be the prerogative of human understanding, when it has surfi- cieritly distinguished any ideas so as to perceive them to be per- fectly different, and so consequently two, to cast about and con- sider in what circumstances they are capable to be compared ; Vol. I. ':o iji DISCERNING. [BOOK II and therefore, I think beasts compare not their ideas farther than some sensible circumstances annexed to the objects themselves. The other power of comparing, which may be observed in men, belonging to general ideas, and useful only to abstract reasonings, ■we may probably conjecture beasts have not. § 6. COMPOUNDING, The next operation we may observe in the mind about its ideas is composition, whereby it puts together several of those simple ones it has received from sensation and reflection, and combines them into complex ones. Under this of composition may be reckoned also that of enlarging, wherein though the composition does not so much appear as in more complex ones, yet it is never- theless a putting several ideas together, though of the same kind,' Thus by adding several units together, we make the idea of a dozen ; and putting together the repeated ideas of several perches we frame that of a furiong. § 7. BRUTES COMPOUND BUT LITTLE. Ill this also, I suppose, brutes come far short of men ; for though they take in and retain together several combinations of simple ideas, as possibly the shape, smell, and voice of his master make up the complex idea a dog has of him, or rather are so many distinct marks whereby he knows him ; yet I do not think they do of themselves ever compound them, and make complex ideas. And perhaps even where we think they have complex ideas, it is only one simple one that directs them in the knowledge of several things, which possibly they distinguish less by their sight than we imagine ; for I have been credibly informed that a bitch will nurse, play writh, and be fond of young foxes, as much as, and in place of, her puppies, if you can but get them once to stick her so long that her miik may go through them. And those animals which have a numerous brood of young ones at once, appear not to have any knowledge of their number ; for though they are mightily concerned for any of their young that' are taken from them whilst they are in sight or hearing, yet if one or two of them be stolen from them in their absence, or without noise, they appear not to miss them, or to have any sense that their number is lessened. § 8. NAMING. When children have, by repeated sensations, got ideas fixed in their memories, they begin by degrees to learn the use of signs. And when they have got the skill to apply the organs of speech to the framing of articulate sounds, they begin to make use of words to signify their ideas to others. These verbal signs they sometimes borrow from others, and sometimes make them- selves, as one may observe among the new and unusual name- children oft^n give to things in the first use of language. .ii \ i. DISCERNING. ).">."> 9. ABSTRACTION'. The use of words then being to stand as oiuward marks of our internal ideas, and those ideas being taken from particular thing;, if exery particular idea that we take in should have a distinct name, names must be endless. To prevent this, the mind makes the particular ideas, received from particular objects, to become general ; which is done by considering them as they are in the mind, such appearances, separate from all other existences, and the circumstances of real existence, as time, place, or any other concomitant ideas. This is called abstraction, whereby ideas, taken from particular beings, become general representatives of all of the same kind, and their names general names, applicable to whatever exists conformable to such abstract ideas. Such precise naked appearances in the mind, without considering how, whence, or with what others they came there, the understanding lays up- (with names commonly annexed to them) as the standard to rank real existences into sorts, as they agree with these pat- terns, and to denominate them accordingly. Thus the same colour being observed to-day in chalk or snow, which the mind yesterday received from milk, it considers that appearance alone makes it a representative of ail of that kind ; and having given it the name whiteness, it by that sound signifies the same quality wheresoever to be imagined or met with : and thus universal?, whether ideas or terms, are made. § 10. BRUTES ABSTRACT NOT. If it may be doubted, whether beasts compound and enlarge their ideas that way to any degree ; this, I think, I may be posi- tive in, that the power of abstracting is not at all in them; and that the having of general ideas is that which puts a perfect dis- tinction between man and brutes, and is an excellency which the faculties of brutes do by no means attain to. For it is evident we observe no footsteps in them of making use of general signs for universal ideas ; from which we have reason to imagine that they have not the faculty of abstracting, or making general ideas, since they have no use of words, or any other general signs. § 11. Nor can it be imputed to their want of tit organs to frame arti- culate sounds, that they have no use or knowledge of general words ; since many of them, we find, can fashion such sounds, and pronounce words distinctly enough, but never with any such application. And on the other side, men, who, through some defect in the organs want words, yet fail not to express their uni- versal ideas by signs, which serve them instead of general words ; a faculty which we see beasts come short in. And therefore 1 think we may suppose, that it is in this that the spceii s of brutes arc discriminated from man ; and it is that proper difference wherein they are wholly separated, and which at last widens t<> 166 BiscjiitN i ate. [book ii. so vast a distance : for if they have any ideas at all, and are not bare machines, (as some would have them) we cannot deny them to have some reason. It seems as evident to me, that they do some of them in certain instances reason, as that they have sense ; but it is only in particular ideas, just as they received them from their senses. They arc the best of them tied up within those narrow bounds, and have not, (as 1 think,) the faculty to enlarge them by any kind of abstraction. § 12. IDIOTS AND MADMEN. How far idiots are concerned in the want or weakness of any or all of the foregoing faculties, an exact observation of their several ways of faltering would no doubt discover : for those who either perceive but dully, or retain tbe ideas that come into their minds but ill, who cannot readily excite or compound them, will have little matter to think on. Those who cannot distin- guish, compare, and abstract, would hardly be able to understand and make use of language, or judge or reason to any tolerable degree ; but only a little and imperfectly about things present, and very familiar to their senses. And indeed, any of the fore- mentioned faculties, if wanting, or out of order, produce suitable effects in men's understandings and knowledge. § 1:5. In fine, the defect in naturals seems to proceed from want of quickness, activity, and motion in the intellectual faculties, whereby they are deprived of reason ; whereas madmen, on the other side, seem to suffer by the other extreme 5 for they do not appear to me to have lost the faculty of reasoning ; but having joined together some ideas very wrongly, they mistake them for truths-, and they err as men do that argue right from wrong prin- ciples. For by the violence of their imaginations, having taken their fancies for realities, they make right deductions from them. Thus you shall find a distracted man fancying himself a king, with a right inference require suitable attendance, respect, and obedi- ence ; others, who have thought themselves made of glass, have used the caution necessary to preserve such brittle bodies. Hence it comes to pass that a man, who is very sober, and of a right un- derstanding in all other things, may in one particular be as frantic us any in Bedlam ; if either by any sudden very strong impression, or long fixing his fancy upon one sort of thoughts, incoherent ideas have been cemented together so powerfully, as to remain united. But there arc degrees of madness, as of folly ; the dis- orderly jumbling ideas together is in some more, some' less. In short, herein seems to lie the difference between idiots and mad- men, that madmen put wrong ideas together, and so make wrong propositions, but argue and reason right from them ; but idiots make very few or no proposition*, and reason scarce at all. CH. XI.] DISCERNING. 157 § 14. METHOD. These, I think, are the first faculties and operations of the mind which it makes use of in understanding ; and though they are exercised about all its ideas in general, yet the instances I have hitherto given have been chiefly in simple ideas : and I have subjoined the explication of ihese faculties of the mind to that of simple ideas, before I come to what 1 have to say concerning complex ones, for these following reasons. First, Because, several of these faculties being exercised at first principally about simple ideas, we might, by following nature in its ordinary method, trace and discover them in their rise, progress, and gradual improvements. Secondly, Because observing the faculties of the mind how they operate about simple ideas, which are usually, in most men's minds, much more clear, precise, and distinct than com- plex ones ; we may the better examine and learn how the mind abstracts, denominates, compares, and exercises its other opera- tions about those which are complex, wherein we are much more liable to mistake. Thirdly, Because these very operations of the mind about ideas, received from sensations, are themselves, when reflected on, another set of ideas, derived from that other source of our knowledge which I call reflection, and therefore fit to be consi- dered in this place after the simple ideas of sensation. Of com- pounding, comparing, abstracting, kc, I have but just spoken, having occasion to treat of them more at large in other places. § 15. THESE ARE THK BEGINNINGS OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. And thus I have given a short, and, I think, true history of the first beginnings of human knowledge, whence the mind has its first objects, and by what steps it makes its progress to the laying in and storing up those ideas, out of which is to be framed all the knowledge it is capable of; wherein 1 must appeal to experience and observation, whether I am in the right ; the best way to come to fttruth being to examine things as really they are, and not to conclude they are, as we fancy of ourselves, or have been taught by others to imagine. § 16. APPEAL lu EXPERIENCE. To deal truly, this is the only way that I can discover, whereby the ideas of things are brought into the understanding : if other men have either innate ideas, or infused principles, they have reason to enjoy them ; and if they are sure of it, it is impossible for others to deny them the privilege that they have above their neighbours. I can speak but of what I find in myself, and is agreeable to those notions ; which, if we will examine the whole course of men in their several ages, countries, and educations, seem to depend on those foundations which I have laid, and to correspond with this method in all the parts and degrees thereof. J5S COMPLEX IDEAS. [BOOK li, § 17. DARK ROOM. I pretend not to teach, but to inquire, and therefore cannot but confess here again, that external and internal sensation are the only passages that I can find of knowledge to the understand- ing. These alone, as far as I can discover, are the windows by which light is let into this dark room : for methinks the under- standing is not much unlike a closet wrholly shut from light, with only some little opening left, to let in external visible resem- blances, or ideas of things without : would the pictures coming into such a dark room but stay there, and lie so orderly as to be found upon occasion, it would very much resemble the under- standing of a man, in reference to all objects of sight and the ideas of them. These are my guesses concerning the means whereby the un- derstanding comes to have and retain simple ideas, and the modes of them, with some other operations about them. I proceed now to examine some of these simple ideas, and their modes, a little more particularly. CHAPTER XII. OF COMPLEX IDEAS. § 1. MADE BY THE MIND OUT OF SIMPLE ONES. We have hitherto considered those ideas, in the reception whereof the mind is only passive, which are those simple ones received from sensation and reflection before mentioned, whereof the mind cannot make one to itself, nor have any idea which does not wholly consist of them. But as the mind is wholly passive in the reception of all its simple ideas, so it exerts seve- ral acts of its own. whereby out of its simple ideas, as the mate- rials and foundations of the. rest, the other are framed. The acts of the mind, wherein it exerts its power over its simple ideas, are chiefly these three : 1 . Combining several simple ideas into one compound one, and thus all complex ideas are made. 2. The second is bringing two ideas, whether simple or complex, together, and setting them by one another, so as to take a view of them at once, without uniting them into one ; by which way it gets all its ideas of relations. 3. The third is separating them from all other ideas that accompany them in their real existence; this is called abstraction: and thus all its general ideas are made. This shows man's power, and its ways of operation, to be much-what the same in the material and intellectual world : for the materials in both being such as he has no power over, cither to make or destroy, all that man can do is either to unite Ihcm together, or (o pet them by one another, or wholly ?epa- ( H. XII. J COMPLEX IDEAS. [50 rate them. I shall here begin with the first oi' these, in the con- sideration of complex ideas, and come to the other two in their due places. As simple ideas are observed to exist in several com- binations united together, so the mind has a power to consider several of them united together as one idea ; and that not only as they are united in external objects, but as itself has joined them. Ideas thus made up of several simple ones put together, I call complex ; such as are beauty, gratitude, a man, an army, the universe ; which though complicated of various simple ideas, or complex ideas made up of simple ones, yet are, when the mind pleases, considered each by itself as one entire thing, and signified by one name. 4 2. MADE VOLUNTARILY. In this faculty of repeating and joining together its ideas, the mind has great power in varying and multiplying the objects of its thoughts infinitely beyond what sensation or reflection furnished it with ; but all this still confined to those simple ideas which it received from those two sources, and which are the ultimate ma- terial's of all its compositions : for simple ideas are all from things themselves, and of these the mind can have no more nor other than what are suggested to it. It can have no other ideas of sensible qualities than what come from without by the senses, nor any ideas of other kind of operations of a thinking sub- stance than what it finds in itself; but when it has once got these simple ideas, it is not confined barely to observation, and what offers itself from without : it can, by its own power, put together those ideas it has, and make new complex ones, which it never received so united. ^§3. ARE EITHER MODES, SUBSTANCES, OR RELATIONS. Complex ideas, however compounded and decompounded, though their number be infinite, and the variety endless, where- with they fill and entertain the thoughts of men ; yet, I think, they may be all reduced under these three heads : 1. Modes. 2, Substances. 3. Relations. § 4. MODES. First, Modes I call such complex ideas, which, however com- pounded, contain not in them the supposition of subsisting by themselves, but are considered as dependencies on, or affections of substances : such as are ideas signified by the words triangle, gratitude, murder, &c. And if in this I use the word mode in somewhat a different sense from its ordinary signification, 1 beg pardon ; it being unavoidable in discourses, differing from the ordinary received notions, either to make new words, or to use old words in somewhat a new signification : the latter whereof, in our present ca 17. SUBSTANCE WHICH WE KNOW NOT, NO PROOF AGAINST SPACE WITHOUT BODY. If it be demanded (as usually it is) whether this space, void of body, be substance or accident, I shall readily answer, I know not, nor shall be ashamed to own my ignorance, till they that ask show me a clear distinct idea of substance. § 1". I endeavour, as much as I can, to deliver myself from those fallacies which we are apt to put upon ourselves by taking words for things. It helps not our ignorance to feign a knowledge where we have none, by making a noise with sounds, without clear and distinct significations. Names made at pleasure neither alter the nature of things, nor make us understand them, but as they are j-igns of, and stand for determined ideas : and I desire those who lay so much stress on the sound of these two syllables, substance, to consider whether applying it, as they do, to the infinite, incom- prehensible God, to finite spirit, and to body, it be in the same sense ; and whether it stands for the same idea, when each of those three so different beings are called substances. If so, whether it will thence follow that God, spirits, and body, agree- ing in the same common nature of substance, differ not any otherwise than in a bare different modification of that substance ; as a tree and a pebble, being in the same sense body, and agree- ing in the common nature of body, differ only in the bare modi- fication of that common matter; which will be a very harsh doctrine. If they say that they apply it to God, finite spirit, and matter, in three different significations ; and that it stands for one idea, when God is said to be a substance ; for another, when the soul is called substance ; and for a third, when a body is called so: if the name substance stands for three several distinct ideas, they would do well to make known those distinct ideas, or at least to give three distinct names to them, to prevent, in so important a notion, the confusion and errors that will naturally follow from lt>8 SIMPLE MODES OF SPACE. [BOOK II. the promiscuous use of so doubtful a term ; which is so far from being suspected to have three distinct, that in ordinary use it has scarce one clear distinct signification; and if they can thus make three distinct ideas of substance, what hinders why another may not make a fourth ? § 19. SUBSTANCE AND ACCIDENTS, OF LITTLE USE IN PHILOSOPHY. They who first ran into the notion of accidents, as a sort of real beings that needed something to inhere in, were forced to find out the word substance to support them. Had the poor Indian philosopher (who imagined that the earth also wanted something to bear it up) but thought of this word, substance, he needed not to have been at the trouble to find an elephant to support it, and a tortoise to support his elephant : the word sub- stance would have done it effectually. And he that inquired might have taken it for as good an answer from an Indian philo- sopher, that substance, without knowing what it is, is that which supports the earth, as we take it for a sufficient answer, and good doctrine from our European philosophers, that substance, without knowing what it is, is that which supports accidents. So that of substance we have no idea of what it is, but only a confused ob- scure one of what it does. §20. Whatever a learned man may do here, an intelligent American, who inquired into the nature of things, would scarce take it for a satisfactory account, if, desiring to learn our architecture, he should be told that a pillar was a thing supported by a basis and a basis something that supported a pillar. Would he not think himself mocked, instead of taught, with such an account as this ? And a stranger to them would be very liberally instructed in the nature of books, and the things they contained, if he should be told, that all learned books consisted of paper and letters, and that letters were things inhering in paper, and paper a thing that held forth letters ; a notable way of having clear ideas of letters and paper ! But were the Latin words inhoerentia and substantia put into the plain English ones that answer them, and were called .sticking on and under propping, they would better discover to us the very great clearness there is in the doctrine of substance and accidents, and show of what use they are in deciding of questions in philosophy. § 21. A VACUUM BEYOND THE UTMOST BOUNDS OF BODY. But to return to our idea of space. If body be not supposed infinite, which I think no one will affirm, I would ask, Whether, if God placed a man at the extremity of corporeal beings, he could not stretch his hand beyond his body ? If he could, then he would put his arm where there was before space without body, and if there he spread his fingers, there would still be spaa1 CH. XZl/.j SIMPLE MODES OF SI'ACK. 1 G'U between them without body. If he could not stretch out his hand, it must be because of some external hinderance ; (for we suppose him alive, with such a power of moving the parts of his body that he hath now, which is not in itself impossible, if God so pleased to have it ; or at least it is not impossible for God so to move him :) and then I ask, whether that which hinders his hand from moving outwards be substance or accident, something or nothing? And when they have resolved that, they will be able to resolve themselves what that is, which is or may be between two bodies at a distance, that is not body, and has no solidity. In the mean time, the argument is at least as good, that where nothing hinders (as beyond the utmost bounds of all bodies) a body put in motion may move on : as where there is nothing between, there two bodies must necessarily touch: for pure space between is sufficient to take away the necessity of mutual con- tact ; but bare space in the way is not sufficient to stop motion. The truth is, these men must either own that they think body infinite, though they are loath to speak it out, or else affirm that space is not body. For I would fain meet with that thinking man, that can in his thoughts set any bounds to space more than he can to duration, or by thinking hope to arrive at the end of either : and, therefore, if his idea of eternity be infinite, so is his idea of immensity ; they arc both finite or infinite alike. § 22. THE POWKR. OK ANNIHILATION PROVES A VACUUM. Farther, those who assert the impossibility of space existing without matter, must not only make body infinite, but must als^ depy a power in God to annihilate any part of matter. No one, I suppose, will deny that God can put an end to all motion that is in matter, and fix all the bodies of the universe in a perfect quiet and rest, and continue them so long as he pleases. Who- ever then will allow that God can, during such a general rest, an- nihilate either this book, or the body of him that reads it, must necessarily admit the possibility of a vacuum : for it is evident that the space that was filled by the parts of the annihilated body will still remain, and be a space without body : for the cir- cumambient bodies being in perfect rest, are a wall of adamant, and in that state make it a perfect impossibility for any other body to get into that space. And indeed the necessary motion of one particle of matter into the place from whence another particle of matter is removed, is but a consequence from the sup- position of plenitude ; which will therefore need some better proof than a supposed matter of fact,, which experiment can never make out: our own clear and distinct ideas plainly satisfy- ing us that there is no necessary connexion between space and Solidity, since we can conceive the one without the other. And those who dispute for or against a vacuum, do thereby con- fess they have distinct ideas of vacuum and plenum, i. e. thai they have an idea of extension void of solidit-v, tljoueh tliev dem Vol. r. 1/0 SIMPLE MODES OF SPACE. [BOOK II- its existence, or else they dispute about nothing at all. For they who so much alter the signification of words as to call extension hody, and consequently make the whole essence of body to be- nothing but pure extension without solidity, must talk absurdly whenever they speak of vacuum, since it is impossible for exten- sion to be without extension : for vacuum, whether we affirm or deny its existence, signifies space without body, whose very ex- istence no one can deny to be possible, who will not make matter infinite, and take from God a power to annihilate any particle of it. § 23. MOTION PROVES A VACUUM. But not to go so far as beyond the utmost bounds of body in the universe, nor appeal to God's omnipotency to find a vacuum, the motion of bodies that are in our view and neighbourhood seems to me plainly to evince it. For I desire any one so to divide a solid body, of any dimension he pleases, as to make it possible for the solid parts to move up and down freely every way within the bounds of that superficies, if there be not left in it a void space as big as the least part into which he has divided the said solid body. And if where the least particle of the body divided is as big as a mustard-seed, a void space equal to the bulk of a mustard-seed be requisite to make room for the free motion of the parts of the divided body within the bounds of its superficies, where the particles of matter are 100,000,000 less than a mustard-seed, there must also be a space void of solid matter as big as 100,000,000 part of a mustard-seed; for if it hold in one it will hold in the other, and so on in infinitum* And let this void space be as little as it will, it destroys the hypothesis of plentitude : for if there can be a space void of body equal to the smallest separate particle of matter now existing in nature, it is still space without body, and makes as great a difference between space and body, as if it were *«y* yprtut, a distance as wide as any in nature. And therefore if we suppose not the void space necessary to motion equal to the least parcel of the divided solid matter, but to TV or ToV o °f it, the same consequence will also follow of space without matter. § 24. THE IDEAS OF SPACE AND BODY DISTINCT. But the question being here, "whether the idea of space or extension be the same with the idea of body," it is not neces- sary to prove the real existence of a vacuum, but the idea of it : which it is plain men have, when they inquire and dispute whether there be a vacuum or no ; for if they had not the idea of space without body, they could not make a question about its existence ; and if their idea of body did not include in it some- thing more than the bare idea of space, they could have no doubt about the plentitude of the world ; and it would be as absurd to demand whether there were space without body, as CH. XIII. | SIMPLE MODES OF SPACE.. 171 whether there were space without space, or body without body, since these were but different names of the same idea. 6 25. EXTENSION EKING INSEPARABLE FROM BODY, PROVES IT NOT THE SAME. It is true, the idea of extension joins itself so inseparably with all visible and most tangible qualities, that it suffers us to see no one, or feel very [ew external objects, without taking in impressions of extension too. This readiness of extension to make itself be taken notice of so constantly with other ideas has been the occasion, I guess, that some have made the whole es- sence of body to consist in extension ; which is not much to be wondered at, since some have had their minds, by their eyes and touch (the busiest of all our senses,) so filled with the idea of extension, and as it were wholly possessed with it, that they allowed no existence to any thing that had not extension. 1 shall not now argue with those men who take the measure and possi- bility of all being only from their narrow and gross imaginations ; but having here to do only with those who conclude the essence of body to be extension, because they say they cannot imagine any sensible quality of any body without extension, I shall de- sire them to consider, that had they reflected on their ideas of tastes and smells as much as on those of sight and touch ; nay, had they examined their ideas of hunger and thirst, and several other pains, they would have found that they included in them no idea of extension at all; which is but an affection of body, as well as the rest, discoverable by our senses, which are Scarce acute enough to look into the pure essences of things. §26. If those ideas which are constantly joined to all others must therefore be concluded to be the essence of those things which have constantly those ideas joined to them, and arc inseparable from them, then unity is without doubt the essence of every thing: for there is not any object of sensation or reflection which does not carry with it the idea of one ; but the weakness of this kind of argument we have already shown sufficiently. § 27. IDEAS OF SPACE AND SOLIDITY DISTINCT. To conclude, whatever men shall think concerning the exist- ence of a vacuum, this is plain to me, that we have as clear an idea of space distinct from solidity, as we have of solidity dis- tinct from motion, or motion from space. We have not any (wo more distinct ideas, and we can as easily conceive space without solidity, as we can conceive body or space without mo- tion, though it be ever so certain that neither body nor motion can exist without space. J>ut whether any one will fake space to be only a relation resulting from the existence of other being* at a distance, or whether they will think the words of the most 172 MMFLE MOPES OF SPACE. | BOOK ir. knowing king Solomon, " The heaven, and the heaven of heaven. - cannot contain thee," or those more emphatical ones of me inspired philosopher St. Paul, " In him we live, move, and have our being,'" are to be understood in a literal sense, I leave every one to consider : only our idea of space is, I think, such as I have mentioned, and distinct from that of body. For whether we con- sider in matter itself the distance of its coherent solid parts, and call it, in respect of those solid parts, extension ; or whether, considering it as lying between the extremities of any body in its several dimensions, we call it length, breadth, and thickness ; or else, considering it as lying between any two bodies or posi- tive beings, without any consideration whether there be any mat- ter or no between, we call it distance : however named or considered, it is always the same uniform rimple idea of space, taken from objects about which our senses have been conversant ; whereof having settledideas in our minds, we can revive, repeat, and add them one to another as often as we will, and consider the space or distance so imagined either as filled with solid parts, so that another body cannot come there without displacing and thrusting out the body that was there before, or else as void of solidity, so that a body of equal dimensions to that empty or pure space may be placed in it without the removing or expulsion of any thing that was there. But, to avoid confusion in discourses concerning this matter, it were possibly to be wished that the name extension were applied only to matter, or the distance of the extremities of particular bodies ; and the term expansion to space in general, with or without solid matter possessing it, so as to say space is expanded, and body extended. But in this every one has liberty : I propose it only for the more clear and distinct; way of speaking. § 28. MEN DIFFER LITTLE IN CLEAR SIMPLE IDEAS. The knowing precisely what our words stand for, would, I im- agine, in this as well as a great many other cases, quickly end the dispute : for I am apt to think that men, when they come to examine them, find their simple Jdeas all generally to agree, though in discourse with one another they perhaps confound one another with different names. I imagine that men who abstract their thoughts, and do well examine the ideas of their own minds, cannot much differ in thinking, however they may perplex them- selves with words, according to the way of speaking of the seve- ral schools or sects they have been bred up in : though among unthinking men, who examine not scrupulously and carefully their own ideas, and strip them not from the marks men use for them, but confound them with words, there must be endless dis- pute, wrangling, and jargon ; especially if they be learned book- ish men, devoted to some sect, and accustomed to the language of it, and have learned to talk after others. But if it should happen that any two thinking men should really have different CH. XIV. j DURATION, AND ITS SIJIPLE MODES. 173 ideas, I do not sec how they could discourse or argue one with another. Here I must not be mistaken, to think that every float- ing imagination in men's brains is presently of that sort of ideas 1 speak of. It is not easy for the mind to put off those confused notions and prejudices it has imbibed from custom, inadvertency, and common conversation : it requires pains and assiduity to examine its ideas, till it resolves them into those clear and distinct simple ones, out of which they are compounded ; and to see which, among its simple ones, have or have not a necessary con- nexion and dependence one upon another. Till a man doth this in the primary and original notion of things, he builds upon floating and uncertain principles, and will often find himself at a loss. CHAPTER XIV. OF DURATION, AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. § 1. DURATION IS FLEETING EXTENSION. There is another sort of distance or length, the idea whereof we get not from the permanent parts of space, but from the fleeting and perpetually perishing parts of succession. This we call duration, the simple modes whereof are any different lengths of it whereof we have distinct ideas, as hours, days, years, &c. iime and eternity. § 2. ITS IDEA FROM REFLECTION ON THE TRAIN OF OUR IDEAS. The answer of a great man to one who asked what time was, •■'■ Si non rogas intelligo" (which amounts to this, the more I set myself to think of it, the less I understand it) might perhaps per- suade one that time, which reveals all other things, is itself not to be discovered. Duration, time, and eternity, are not without reason thought to have something very abstruse in their nature. But however remote these may seem from our comprehension, yet if we trace them right to their Originals, I doubt not but one of those sources of all our knowledge, viz. sensation and reflection, will be able to furnish us with these ideas as clear and distinct as many other which are thought much less obscure ; and we shaN find that the idea of eternity itself is derived from the same com- mon original with the rest of our ideas. §3. To understand time and eternity aright, we ought with attcn- fion to consider what idea it i^we have of duration, and how we f ame by it. It is evident to agiy one, who will but observe what passes in his own mind, that there is a train of ideas which con- stantly succeed one another in his understanding as long as he is 174 DURATION, AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. [BOOK II. awake. Reflection on these appearances of several ideas, one after another, in our minds, is that which furnishes us with the idea of succession ; and the distance between any parts of that succession, or between the appearance of any two ideas in our minds, is that we call duration : for whilst we are thinking, or whilst we receive successively several ideas in our minds, wc know that we do exist ; and so we call the existence, or the continuation of the existence of ourselves, or any thing else, commensurate to the succession of any ideas in our minds, the duration of ourselves, or any such other thing coexistent with our thinking. §4. That we have our notion of succession and duration from this original, viz. from reflection on the train of ideas which we find to appear one after another in our own minds, seems plain to me, in that we have no perception of duration, but by considering the train of ideas that take their turns in our understandings. When that succession of ideas ceases, our perception of dura- tion ceases with it ; which every one clearly experiments in him- self, whilst he sleeps soundly, whether an hour or a day, a month or a year ; of which duration of things, while he sleeps or thinks not, he has no perception at all, but it is quite lost to him ; and the moment wherein he leaves off to think, till the moment he begins to think again, seems to him to have no distance. And so I doubt not it would be to a waking man, if it were possible for him to keep only one idea in his mind, without variation and the succession of others. And we see that one who fixes his thoughts very intently on one thing, so as to take but little notice of the succession of ideas that pass in his mind, whilst he is taken up with that earnest contemplation, lets slip out of his account a good part of that duration, and thinks that time shorter than it is. But if sleep commonly unites the distant parts of duration, it is because during that time we have no succession of ideas in our minds; for if a man, during his sleep, dreams, and variety of ideas make themselves perceptible in his mind one after another, he hath then, during such dreaming, a sense of duration, and the length of it : by which it is to me very clear, that men derive their ideas of duration from their reflections on the train of the ideas they observe to succeed one another in their own understandings ; without which observation, they can have no notion of duration, whatever may happen in the world. § 5. THE IDEA OF DURATION APPLICABLE TO THINGS WHILST WK M EEB» Indeed a man having, from reflecting on the succession and number of his own thoughts, got the notion or idea of duration, he can apply that notion to things which exist while he does not CH. XIV.] DURATION, AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. |?j: think ; as he that has got the idea of extension from bodies by his sight or touch, can apply it to distances where no body is seen or felt. And therefore though a man has no perception of the length of duration, which passed whilst he slept or thought not, yet having observed the revolution of days and nights, and found the length of their duration to be in appearance regular and constant, he can, upon the supposition that that revolution has proceeded after the same manner whilst he was asleep, or thought not as it used to do at other times : he can, 1 say, ima- gine and make allowance for the length of duration whilst he slept. But if Adam and Eve (when they were alone in the world,) instead of their ordinary night's sleep, had passed the whole twenty-fouF hours in one continued sleep, the duration of that twenty-four hours had been irrecoverably lost to them, and been for ever left out of their account of time. § 6. THE IDEA OF SUCCESSION NOT FROM MOTION. Thus, by reflecting on the appearing of various ideas one after another in our understandings, we get the notion of succession ; which, if any one would think we did rather get from our obser- vation of motion by our senses, he will perhaps be of my mind when he considers, that even motion produces in his mind an idea of succession no otherwise than as it produces there a continued train of distinguishable ideas. For a man looking upon a body really moving, perceives yet no motion at all, unless that motion produces a constant train of successive ideas: r. g. a man be- calmed at sea, out of sight of land, in a fair day, may look on the sun, or sea, or ship, a whole hour together, and perceive no motion at all in either ; though it be certain that two, and per- haps all of them, have moved during that time a great way. But as soon as he perceives either of them to have changed dis- tance with some other body, as soon as this motion produces any new idea in him, then he perceives that there has been motion. But wherever a man is, with all things at rest about him, without perceiving any motion at all ; if during this hour of quiet he has been thinking, he will perceive the various ideas of his own thoughts in his own mind, appearing one after another, and thereby observe and find succession where he could observe no motion. §7. And this, I think, is the reason why motions very slow, though they are constant, arc not perceived by us ; because, in their remove from one sensible part toward another, their change of distance is so slow, that it causes no new ideas in us, but a good while one after another: and so not causing a constant train of new ideas to follow one another immediately in our mind.-, we have no perception of motion; which consisting in a constant 1/6 DURATION, AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. [BOOK II. succession, we cannot perceive that succession withouta constant succession of varying ideas arising from it. §8. On the contrary, things that move so swift as not to affect the senses distinctly with several distinguishable distances of their motion, and so cause not any train of ideas in the mind, are not also perceived to move ; for any thing that moves round about in a circle in less time than our ideas are wont to succeed one another in our minds, is not perceived to move, but seems to be a perfect entire circle of that matter or colour, and not a part of a circle in motion. § 9. THE TRAIN OF IDEAS HAS A CERTAIN DEGREE OF QUICKNESS. Hence I leave it to others to judge whether it be not probable that our ideas do, whilst we are awake, succeed one another in our minds at certain distances, not much unlike the images in the inside of a lantern turned round by the heat of a candle. This appearance of theirs in train, though perhaps it may be sometimes faster, and sometimes slower, yet, 1 guess, varies not very much in a waking man : there seem to be certain bounds to the quick- ness and slowness of the succession of those ideas one to another in our minds, beyond which they can neither delay nor hasten. § 10. The reason I have for this odd conjecture is from observing, that in the impressions made upon any of our senses we can but to a certain degree perceive any succession ; which, if exceeding quick, the sense of succession is lost, even in cases where it is evident that there is a real succession. Let a cannon-bullet pass through a room, and in its way take with it any limb or fleshy parts of a man ; it is as clear as any demonstration can be, that it must strike successively the two sides of the room. It is also evident, that it must touch one part of the flesh first, and another after, and so in succession : and yet I believe nobody who ever felt the pain of such a shot, or heard the blow against the two distant walls, could perceive any succession either in the pain or sound of so swift a stroke. Such a part of duration as this, wherein we perceive no succession, is that which we may call an instant, and is that which takes up the time of only one idea in our minds without the succession of another, wherein therefore Me perceive no succession at all. §11. This also happens where the motion is so slow as not to supply a constant train of fresh ideas to the senses as fast as the mind is capable of receiving new ones into it ; and so other ideas of our own thoughts, having room to come into our minds between those offered to our senses by the moving body, there the sens<' CII. XIV.] DURATION, AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. 177 of motion is lost ; and the body though it really moves, yet not changing perceivable distance with some other bodies as fast as the ideas of our own minds do naturally follow one another in train, the thing seems to stand still, as is evident in the hands of clocks and shadows of sun-dials, and other constant but slow mo- tions ; where, though after certain intervals, we perceive by the change of distance that it hath moved, yet the motion itself we perceive not. § 12. THIS TRAIN THE MEASURE OF OTHER SUCCESSIONS. So that to me it seems that the constant and regular succession of ideas in a waking man is, as it were, the measure and standard of all other successions : whereof if any one either exceeds the pace of our ideas, as where two sounds or pains, &c. take up in their succession the duration of but one idea, or else where any motion or succession is so slow as that it keeps not pace with the ideas in our minds, or the quickness in which they take their turns ; as when any one or more ideas, in their ordinary course, come into our mind between those which are offered to the sight by the different perceptible distances of a body in motion, or be- tween sounds or smells following one another ; there also the sense of a constant continued succession is lost, and we perceive it not but with certain gaps of rest between. § 13. THE MIND CANNOT FIX LONG ON ONE INVARIABLE IDEA. If it be so that the ideas of our minds, whilst we have any there, do constantly change and shift in a continual succession, it would be impossible, may any one say, for a man to think long of any one thing. By which, if it be meant that a man may have one self-same single idea a long time alone in his mind, without any variation at all, I think, in matter of fact, it is not possible; for which (not knowing how the ideas of our minds are framed, of what materials they are made, whence they have their light, and how they come to make their appearances) I can give no other reason but experience : and 1 would have any one try whether he can keep one unvaried single idea in his mind, without any other, for any considerable time together. §14 For trial, let him take any figure, any degree of light or white- ness, or what other he pleases ; and he will, I suppose, find it difficult to keep all other ideas out of his mind ; but that some, either of another kind, or various considerations of that idea (each of which considerations is a new idea) will constantly succeed one another in his thoughts, let him be as wary as he can. § 15. All that is in a man's power in this case, I think, is only to mind and observe what the ideas are that take their turns in his Vol. I. 23 1¥8 DURATION, AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. [BOOK If. understanding ; or else to direct the sort, and call in such as he hath a desire or use of: but hinder the constant succession of fresh ones, I think, he cannot, though he may commonly choose whe- ther he will heedfully observe and consider them. § 16. IDEAS, HOWEVER MADE, INCLUDE NO SENSE OF MOTION. Whether these several ideas in a man's mind be made by cer- tain motions, I will not here dispute : but this I am sure, that they include no idea of motion in their appearance ; and if a man had not the idea of motion otherwise, I think he would have none at all ; which is enough to my present purpose, and suffi- ciently shows that the notice we take of the ideas of our own minds, appearing there one after another, is that which gives us the idea of succession and duration, without which we should have no such ideas at all. It is not then motion, but the constant train of ideas in our minds, whilst we are waking, that furnishes us with the idea of duration ; whereof motion no otherwise gives us any perception than as it causes in our minds a constant suc- cession of ideas, as I have before showed : and we have as clear an idea of succession and duration, by the train of other ideas succeeding one another in our minds, without the idea of any motion, as by the train of ideas caused by the uninterrupted sensible change of distance between two bodies, which we have from motion ; and therefore we should as well have the idea of duration were there no sense of motion at all. § 17. TIME IS DURATION SET OUT BY MEASURES. Having thus got the idea of duration, the next thing natural for the mind to do is to get some measure of this common duration, Avhereby it might judge of its different lengths, and consider the distinct order wherein several things exist, without which a great part of our knowledge would be confused, and a great part of history be rendered very useless. This consideration of dura- tion, as set out by certain periods, and marked by certain mea- sures or epochs, is that, 1 think, which most properly we call time. § 18. A GOOD MEASURE OF TIME MUST DIVIDE ITS WHOLE DURATION INTO EQUAL PERIODS. In the measuring of extension there is nothing more required but the application of the standard or measure we make use of to the thing of whose extension we would be informed. But in the measuring of duration this cannot be done, because no two different parts of succession can be put together to measure one another : and nothing being a measure of duration but duration, as nothing is of extension but extension, we cannot keep by us any standing unvarying measure of duration, which consists in a constant fleeting succession, as we can of certain lengths of OH. XIV. ] DURATION, AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. 179 extension, as inches, feet, yards, &c. marked out in permanent parcels of matter. Nothing, then, could serve well for a conve- nient measure of time hut what has divided the whole length oi its duration into apparently equal portions, hy constantly repeated periods. What portions of duration are not distinguished, or considered as distinguished and measured by such periods, come, not so properly under the notion of time, as appears by such phrases as these, viz. before all time, and when time shall be no more. § 19. THE REVOLUTIONS OF THE SUN A\D MOON. THE moPERF.ST MEASURES OF TIME. The diurnal and annual revolutions of the sun, as having been, from the beginning of nature, constant, regular, and universally observable by all mankind, and supposed equal to one another, have been with reason made use of for the measure of duration. But the distinction of days and years having depended on the motion of the sun, it has brought this mistake with it, that it has been thought that motion and duration were the measure one of another: for men, in the measuring of the length of time, having been accustomed to the ideas of minutes, hours, days, months, years, &c. which they found themselves upon any mention of time or duration presently to think on, all which portions of time were measured out by the motion of those heavenly bodies ; they were apt to confound time and motion, or at least to think that they had a necessary connexion one with another : whereas any constant periodical appearance or alteration of ideas in seemingly equidistant spaces of duration, if constant and univer- sally observable, would have as well distinguished the intervals of time as those that have been made use of. For supposing the sun, which some have taken to be afire, had been lighted up at the same distance of time that it now every day comes about to the same meridian, and then gone out again about twelve hours after, and that in the space of an annual revolution in had sen- sibly increased in brightness and heat, and so decreased again ; would not such regular appearances serve to measure out the distances of duration, to all that could observe it, as well without as with motion ? For if the appearances were constant, univer- sally observable, and in equidistant periods, they would serve mankind for measure of time as well, were the motion away. § 20. BUT NOT BV THEIR MOTION, BUT PERIODICAL APPEARANCES. For the freezing of water, or the blowing of a plant, returning at equidistant periods in all parts of the earth, would as well serve men to reckon their years by, as the motions of the sun : and in effect we see that some people in America counted their years by the coming of certain birds among them at their cer- tain seasons, and leaving them at others. For a tit of an ague, the sense of hunger or thirst, a smell or a taste, or anv other idea' 180 DURATION, AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. [BOOK II. returning constantly at equidistant periods, and making itself universally be taken notice of, would not fail to measure out the course of succession, and distinguish the distance of time. Thus, we see that men born blind count time well enough by years, whose revolutions yet they cannot distinguish by motions that they perceive not : and I ask whether a blind man, who distin- guished his years either by the heat of summer or cold of win- ter ; by the smell of any flower of the spring, or taste of any fruit of the autumn ; would not have a better measure of time than the Romans had before the reformation of theircalendar by Julius Caesar, or many other people, whose years, notwithstanding the motion of the sun, which they pretend to make use of, are very irregular? And it adds no small difficulty to chronology, that the exact lengths of the years that several nations counted by are hard to be known, they differing very much one from another, and I think I may say all of them from the precise motion of the sun. And if the sun moved from the creation to the flood, con- stantly Id the equator, and so equally dispersed its light and heat to all the habitable parts of the earth, in days all of the same length, without its annual variations to the tropics, as a late inge- nious author supposes ;* 1 do not think it very easy to imagine that (notwithstanding the motion of the sun) men should, in the antediluvian world, from the beginning, count by years, or mea- sure their time by periods, that had no sensible marks very obvious to distinguish them by. § 21. NO TWO PARTS OF DURATION CAN BE CERTAINLY KNOWN TO BE EQUAL. But perhaps it will be said, without a regular motion, such as of the sun or some other, how could it ever be known that such periods were equal ? To which I answer, the equality of any other returning appearances might be known by the same way that that of days was known or presumed to be so at first ; which was only by judging of them by the train of ideas which had passed in men's minds in the intervals : by which train of ideas . discovering inequality in the natural days, but none in the artifi- cial days, the artificial days, or w%1kfup«, were guessed to be equal, which was sufficient to make them serve for a measure, though exacter search has since discovered inequality in the diurnal revolutions of the sun, and we know not whether the annual also be not unequal. These yet, by their presumed and apparent equality, serve as well to reckon time by (though not to measure the parts of duration exactly) as if they could be proved to be exactly equal. We must therefore carefully distinguish betwixt duration itself, and the measures we make use of to judge of its length. Duration in itself is to be considered as going on in one constant, equal, uniform, course : but none of the measures of * Dr. Burnet's Thcorv of the Earth. €11. XIV.] DURATION, AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. 1S1 it, which we make use of, can be known to do so ; nor can wc be assured that their assigned parts or periods are equal in dura- tion one to another ; for two successive lengths of duration, how- ever measured, can never be demonstrated to be equal. The motion of the sun, which the world used so long and so confi- dently for an exact measure of duration, has, as 1 said, been found in its several parts unequal: and though men have of late made use of a pendulum, as a more steady and regular motion than that of the sun, or (to speak more truly) of the earth ; yet if any one should be asked how he certainly knows that the two suc- cessive swings of a pendulum are equal, it would be very hard to satisfy him that they are infallibly so : since we cannot be sure that the cause of that motion, which is unknown to us, shall always operate equally : and we are sure that the medium in which the pendulum moves is not constantly the same : either of which varying, may alter the equality of such periods, and thereby destroy the certainty and exactness of the measure by motion, as well as any other periods of other appearances ; the notion of duration still remaining clear, though our measures of it cannot any of them be demonstrated to be exact. Since then no two portions of succession can be brought together, it is impossible ever certainly to know their equality. All that we can do for a measure of time is to take such as have continual successive appearances at seemingly equidistant periods; of which seeming equality we have no other measure but such as the train of our own ideas have lodged in our memories, with the concurrence of other probable reasons, to persuade us of their equality. § 22. TIME NOT THE MEASURE OF MOTION". One thing seems strange to me, that whilst all men manifestly measured time by the motion of the great and visible bodies of the world, time yet should be defined to be the " measure of motion j" whereas it is obvious to every one who reflects ever so little on it, that, to measure motion, space is as necessary to be considered as time ; and those who look a little farther, will find also the bulk of the thing moved necessary to be taken into the computation by any one who will estimate or measure motion, so as to judge right of it. Nor indeed does motion any otherwise conduce to the measuring of duration,, than as it constantly brings about the return of certain sensible ideas in seeming equidistant periods. For if the motion of the sun were as unequal as of a ship driven by unsteady winds, sometimes very slow, and at others irregularly very swift ; or if, being constantly equally swift, it yet was not circular, and produced not' the same appearances, it would not at all help us to measure time, any more than the «eeming unequal motion of a comet does. 182 DURATION, AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. [BOOK II. § 23 Minutes, hours, days, and years, not necessary measures of duration. Minutes, hours, days, and years, are then no more necessary to time or duration, than inches, feet, yards, and miles, marked out in any matter, are to extension : for though we in this part of the universe, by the constant use of them, as of periods set out by the revolutions of the sun, or as known parts of such periods, have fixed the ideas of such lengths of duration in our minds, which we apply to all parts of time, whose lengths we would consider ; yet there may be other parts of the universe, where they no more use these measures of ours, than in Japan they do our inches, feet, or miles ; but yet something analogous to them there must be. For without some regular periodical returns, we could not measure ourselves, or signify to others the length of any duration, though at the same time the world were as full of motion as it is now, but no part of it disposed into regular and apparently equidistant revolutions. But the different measures that may be made use of for the account of time do not at all alter the notion of duration, which is the thing to be measured, no more than the different standards of a foot and a cubit alter the notion of extension to those who make use of those different measures. § 24. OUR MEASURE OF TIME APPLICABLE TO DURATION BEFORE TIME. The mind having once got such a measure of time as the annual revolution of the sun, can apply that measure to duration, wherein that measure itself did not exist, and with which, in the reality of its being, it had nothing to do : for should one say, that Abraham was born in the two thousand seven hundred and twelfth year of the Julian period, it is altogether as intelligible as reckoning from the beginning of the world, though there were so far back no motion of the sun, nor any motion at all. For though the Julian period be supposed to begin several hundred years before there were really either days, nights, or years, marked out by any revolutions of the sun ; yet we reckon as right, and thereby measure durations as well, as if really at that time the sun had existed, and kept the same ordinary motion it doth now. The idea of duration equal to an annual revolution of the sun is as easily applicable in our thoughts to duration, where no sun nor motion was, as the idea of a foot or yard, taken from bodies here, can be applied in our thoughts to distances be- yond the confines of the world, where are no bodies at all. §25. For supposing it were five thousand six hundred and thirty- nine miles, or millions of miles, from this place to the remotest body of the universe (for, being finite, it must be at a certain dis- tance) as we suppose it to be five thousand six hundred and thirty nine years from this time to the first existence of any body CH. XIV. j DURATION AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. 183 in the beginning of the world; we can in our thoughts, apply this measure of a year to duration before the creation, or beyond the duration of bodies or motion, as we can this measure of a mile to space beyond the utmost bodies ; and by the one measure duration where there was no motion, as well as by the other measure space in our thoughts where there is no body. §26. If it be objected to me here, that, in this way of explaining of time, 1 have begged what I should not, viz. that the world is neither eternal nor infinite ; I answer, that to my present pur- pose it is not needful, in this place, to make use of arguments to evince the world to be finite, both in duration and extension ; but it being at least as conceivable as the contrary, 1 have cer- tainly the liberty to suppose it, as well as any one hath to suppose the contrary ; and I doubt not but that every one that will go about it, may easily conceive in his mind the beginning of motion, though not of all duration, and so may come to a stop and non idtta in his consideration of motion. So also in his thoughts he may set limits to body, and the extension belonging to it, but not to space where no body is ; the utmost bounds of space and du- ration being beyond the reach of thought, as well as the utmost bounds of number are beyond the largest comprehension of the mind ; and all for the same reason, as we shall see in another place. § 27. ETERNITY. By the same means, therefore, and from the same original that we come to have the idea of time, we have also that idea which we call eternity ; viz. having got the idea of succession and dura- tion, by reflecting on the train of our own ideas, caused in us either by the natural appearances of those ideas coming con- stantly of themselves into our waking thoughts, or else caused by external objects successively affecting our senses ; and having from the revolutions of the sun got the ideas of certain lengths of duration, we can in our thoughts add such lengths of duration to one another, as often as we please, and appl) them, so added, to durations past or to come : and this we can continue to do on, without bounds or limits, and proceed in infinitum, and apply thus the length of the annual motion of the sun to duration, sup- posed before the sun's, or any other motion had its being ; which is no more difficult or absurd, than to apply the notion I have of the moving of a shadow one hour to-day upon the sun-dial to the duration of something last night, v. g. the burning of a candle, which is now absolutely separate from all actual motion : and it is as impossible for the duration of that flame for an hour last night to coexist with any motion that now is, or for ever shall be, as for any part of duration, that was before the be •finnintj of the world to coexist with the motion of the sun 184' DURATION, AND ITS SIMPLE MODES. [BOOK II- now. But yet this hinders not, but that having the idea of the length of the motion of the shadow on a dial between the marks of two hours, I can as distinctly measure in my thoughts the duration of that candlelight last night, as I can the duration of any thing that does now exist : and it is no more than to think, that had the sun shone then on the dial, and moved after the same rate it doth now, the shadow on the dial would have passed from one hour-line to another, whilst that flame of the candle lasted. § 28. The notion of an hour, day, or year, being only the idea I have of the length of certain periodical regular motions, neither of which motions do ever all at once exist, but only in the ideas I have of them in my memory, derived from my senses or reflec- tion ; I can with the same ease, and for the same reason, apply it in my thoughts to duration antecedent to all manner of motion, as well as to any thing that is but a minute, or a day, antecedent to the motion, that at this very moment the sun is in. All things past are equally and perfectly at rest ; and to this way of con- sideration of them are all one, whether they were before the beginning of the world, or but yesterday : the measuring of any duration by some motion depending not at all on the real co- existence of that thing to that motion, or any other periods of revolution, but the having a clear idea of the length of some periodical known motion, or other intervals of duration in my mind, and applying that to the duration of the thing I would measure. §29. Hence we see, that some men imagine the duration of the world, from its first existence to this present year 1689, to have been five thousand six hundred and thirty-nine years, or equal to five thousand six hundred and thirty-nine annual revolutions of the sun, and others a great deal more; as the Egyptians of old, who in the time of Alexander counted twenty three thou- sand years from the reign of the sun ; and the Chinese now, who account the world three millions, two hundred and sixty-nine thousand years old or more : which longer duration of the world, according to their computation, though I should not believe to be true, yet 1 can equally imagine it with them, and as truly understand, and say one is longer than the other, as. I understand, that Methusalem's life was longer than Enoch's. And if the common reckoning of five thousand six hundred and thirty-nine should be true (as it may be as well as any other assigned,) it hinders not at all my imagining what others mean when they make the world one thousand years older, since every one may with the same facility imagine (I do not say believe) the world to be fifty thousand years old, as five thousand six * H. XIV. | ULKATIO.N, AM) ITS SIMPLE MODES. IH5 hundred and thirty-nine ; and may as well conceive the duration of fifty thousand years as tive thousand six hundred and thirty- nine. Whereby it appears, that to the measuring the duration of any thing hy time, it is not requisite that that thing should he coexistent to the motion we measure by, or any other peri- odical revolution ; but it suffices to this purpose, that we have the idea of the length of any regular periodical appearances, which we can in our minds apply to duration, with which the motion or appearance never coexisted. §30. For as in the history of the creation, delivered hy Moses, 1 can imagine that light existed three days before the sun was, or had any motion, barely by thinking, that the duration of light, before the sun was created was so long as (if the sun had moved then, as it doth now) would have been equal to three of his di- urnal revolutions ; so by the same way I can have an idea of the chaos, or angels being created before there was either light, or any continued motion, a minute, an hour, a day, a year, or one thousand years. For if I can but consider duration equal to one minute, before either the being or motion of any body, I can add one minute more till I come to sixty ; and by the same way of adding minutes, hours, or years, (i. e. such or such parts of the sun's revolutions, or any other period whereof I have the idea) proceed in infinitum, and suppose a duration exceeding as many ' such periods as I can reckon, let me add whilst I will : which I think is the notion we have of eternity, of whose infinity we have no other notion than we have of the infinity of number, to which we can add for ever without end. §31. And thus I think it is plain, that from those two fountains of all knowledge before mentioned, viz. reflection and sensation, we get ideas of duration, and the measures of it. For, first, By observing what passes in our minds, how our ideas there in train constantly some vanish, and others begin to appear, we come by the idea of succession. Secondly, By observing a distance in the parts of this succes- sion, we get the idea of duration. Thirdly, By sensation observing certain appearances, at cer- tain regular and seeming equidistant periods, we get the ideas of certain lengths or measures of duration, as minutes, hours, days, years, &c. Fourthly, By being able to repeat those measures of time, or ideas of stated length of duration in our minds, as often as we will, we can come to imagine duration, where nothing does really endure or exist ; and thus we imagine to-morrow, next year, or seven years hence. Fifthly, By being able to repeat ideas of any length of tim» YOU \. 24 TSu" dCration and expansion considered, [book n. as of a minute, a year, or an age, as often as we will, in our own thoughts, and adding them one to another, without ever coming to the end of such addition any nearer than we can to the end of number, to which we can always add ; we come by the idea of eternity, as the future eternal duration of our souls, as well as the eternity of .that infinite Being, which must neces- sarily have always existed. Sixthly, By considering any part of infinite duration, as set out by periodical measures, we come by the idea of what we call lime in general. CHAPTER XV. OF DURATION AND EXPANSION, CONSIDERED TOGETHER. § 1. BOTH CAPABLE OF GREATER. AND LESS. Though we have in the precedent chapters dwelt pretty long on the considerations of space and duration ; yet they being ideas of general concernment, that have something very abstruse and peculiar in their nature, the comparing them one with another may perhaps be of use for their illustration ; and we may have the more clear and distinct conception of them, by taking a view of them together. Distance or space, in its sim- ple abstract conception, to avoid confusion, I call expansion, to d istinguish it from extension, which by some is used to express this distance only as it is in the solid parts of matter, and so in- cludes, or at least intimates, the idea of body : whereas the idea of pure distance includes no such thing. I prefer also the word ex- pansionto space, because space is often applied to distance of fleet- ing successive parts,which neverexist together, as well as to those which are permanent. In both these (viz. expansion and duration) the mind has this common idea of continued lengths, capable of greater or less quantities : for a man has as clear an idea of the difference of the length of an hour and a day, as of an inch and a foot. § 2. EXPANSION NOT EOUSDKU BY MATTER. The mind having got the idea of the length of any part of ex- pansion, let it be a span or a pace, or what length you will, can, as has been said, repeat that idea : and so, adding it to the for- mer, enlarge its idea of length, and make it equal to two spans, or two paces, and so as often as it will, till it equals the distance of any parts of the earth, one from another, and increase thus, till it amounts to the distance of the sun or remotest star. By =-iich a progression as this, setting out from the place where it is, or any otherplace, it Gan proceed anil pass beyond all those CH. SV.] .1 ION AMi EXPANSION I OWSIDERED. LSI lengths, and find frothing to stop its going on, cither in, or with- out body. It is true, we can easily, in our thoughts, eornc to the end of solid extension ; the extremity and bounds of all body we have no difficulty to arrive at : but when the mind is there, it finds nothing to hinder its progress into this endless expansion ; of that it can neither find nor conceive any end. Nor let any one say, that beyond the bounds of body there is nothing at all, unless he will confine (iod within the limits of matter. Solomon, whose understanding was filled and enlarged with wisdom, seems to have other thoughts, when he says, " heaven, and the heaven of heavens, cannot contain thee :*' and he, 1 think, very much magnifies to himself the capacity of his own understanding, who persuades himself that he can extend his thoughts farther than ' lod exists, or imagine any expansion w here he is not. § 3. NOR DURATION El' MOTION. Just so is it in duration. The mind, having got the idea of any length of duration, can double, multiply, and enlarge it, not only beyond its own, but beyond the existence of all corporeal beings, and all the measures of time, taken from the great bodies <;f the wrorld and their motions. But yet every one easily admits, that though we make duration boundless, as certainly- it is, we cannot yet extend it beyond all being. God, everyone easily allows, fills eternity, and it is hard to find a reason why any one should doubt that he likewise fills immensity. His infinite being is certainly as boundless one way as another, and methinks it ascribes a little too much to matter to say where there is no body, there is nothing. $4: WHY MEN MORE EASILY ADMIT INFINITE DURATION THAN INFINITE EXFAASIO.-V. Hence, I think, we may learn the reason why every onefami liarly, and without the least hesitation, speaks of, and supposes eternity, and sticks not to ascribe infinity to duration ; but it is with more doubting and reserve that many admit or suppose the infinity of space. The reason whereof seems to me to be this ; that duration and extension being used as names of affections belonging to other beings, we easily conceive in God infinite du- ration, and we cannot avoid doing so ; but not attributing to him extension, but only to matter, which is finite, we are apter to doubt of the existence of expansion without matter, of which alone we commonly suppose it an attribute. And therefore when men pursue their thoughts of space, they are apt to stop at the confines of body, as if space were there at an end too, and reached no farther. Or if their ideas upon consideration carry them farther, yet they term what is beyond the limits of the universe imaginary space ; as if it were nothing, because there is no body existing in it : whereas duration, antecedent to all body, and to the motions which it is measured by, they never term imaginary. 188 IH KATION AND EXPANSION CONSIDERED. [BOOK II. because it is never supposed void ot' some other real existence. And if the names of things may at all direct our thoughts towards the originals of men's ideas (as I am apt to think they may very much) one may have occasion to think by the name duration, that the continuation of existence, with a kind of resistance to any destructive force, and the continuation of solidity (which is apt to be confounded with, and, if we look into the minute anatomical parts of matter, is little different from, hardness) were thought to have some analogy, and gave occasion to words so near of kin as durare and durum esse. And that durare is applied to the idea of hardness as well as that of existence, we see in Horace, epod. xvi. "ferro duravit secula." But be that as it will, this is certain; that whoever pursues his own thoughts will find them sometimes launch out beyond the extent of body into the infinity of space or expansion ; the idea whereof is distinct and separate from body and all other things: which may (to those who please) be a subject of farther meditation. § 5. TIME TO DURATION IS AS PLACE TO EXPANSION. Time in general is to duration as place to expansion. They are so much of those boundless oceans of eternity and immensity as is set out and distinguished from the rest, as it were, by landmarks; and so are made use of to denote the position of finite real beings, in respect one to another, in those uniform infinite oceans of duration and space. These, rightly considered, are only ideas of determinate distances, from certain known points fixed in distinguishable sensible things, and supposed to keep the same distance one from another. From such points fixed in sensible beings we reckon, and from them we measure our portions of those infinite quantities ; which, so considered, are that which wre call time and place. For duration and space being in them- selves uniform and boundless, the order and position of things, without such known settled points, would be lost in them, and all things would lie jumbled in an incurable confusion. <3 6. TIME AND PLACE ARE TAKEN FOK SO MUCH OF EITHER, AS ARE SET OUT BY THE EXISTENCE AND MOTION OF BODIES. Time and place, taken thus for determinate distinguishable portions of those infinite abysses of space and duration, set out or supposed to be distinguished from the rest by marks and known boundaries, have each of them a twofold acceptation. First, Time in general is commonly taken for so much of infinite duration as is measured by, and coexistent with, the existence and motions of the great bodies of the universe, as far as we know any thing of them : and in this sense time begins and ends with the frame of this sensible world, as in these phrases before mentioned, before all time, or when timeshall be no more. Place likewise is taken sometimes for that portion of infinite space which is possessed by. and comprehended within, the ma- 1 II. XV.] JURATION AND EXPANSION. CONSIDERED. 189 ferial world, and is thereby distinguished from the rest of expan- sion ; though this may more properly be called extension than place. Within these two are confined, and by the observable parts of them are measured and determined, the particular time or duration, and the particular extension and place of all corpo- real beings. § 7. SOMETIMES FOR SO MUCH OF EITHER, AS WE DESIGN BY MEASURES TAKEN FROM THE BULK OR MOTIOK OF BODIES. Secondly, Sometimes the word time is used in a larger sense, and is applied to parts of that infinite duration, not that were really distinguished and measured out by this real existence, and periodical motions of bodies that were appointed from the be- ginning to be for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and years, and are accordingly our measures of time ; — but such other por- tions too of that infinite uniform duration, which we, upon any occasion, do suppose equal to certain lengths of measured time; and so consider them as bounded and determined. For if we should suppose the creation or fall of the angels was at the beginning of the Julian period, we should speak properly enough, and should be understood, if we said, it is a longer time since the creation of angels than the creation of the world by seven thou- sand six hundred and forty years ; whereby we would mark out so much of that undistinguished duration as we suppose equal to, and would have admitted seven thousand six hundred and forty annual revolutions of the sun, moving at the rate it now does. And thus likewise we sometimes speak of place, distance, or bulk, in the great inane beyond the confines of the world, when we consider so much of that space as is equal to, or capable to receive a body of any assigned dimensions, as a cubic foot ; or do suppose a point in it at such a certain distance from any part of the universe. § 8. THEY BELONG TO ALL BEINGS. Where and when are questions belonging to all finite existences, and are by us always reckoned from some known parts of this sensible world, and from some certain epochs marked out to us by the motions observable in it. Without some such fixed parts or periods, the order of things would be lost to our finite under- standings, in the boundless invariable oceans of duration and expansion, which comprehend in them all finite beings, and in their full extent belong only to the Deity. And therefore we are not to wonder that we comprehend them not. and do so often find our thoughts at a loss, when we would consider them either abstractly in themselves, or as any way attributed to the first incomprehensible Being. But when applied to any particular finite beings, the extension of any body is so much of that infinite space as the bulk of the body takes up ; and place is the position of any body, when considered at a certain distance from some 190 DURATION AND EXPANSION CONSIDERED. [BOOK II- other. As the idea of the particular duration of any thing is an idea of that portion of infinite duration which passes during the existence of that thing ; so the time when the thing existed, is the idea of that space of duration which passed between some known and fixed period of duration, and the being of that thing. One shows the distance of the extremities of the bulk or exist- ence of the same thing, as that it is a foot square, or lasted two years ; the other shows the distance of it in place or existence irom other fixed points of space or duration, as that it was in the middle of Lincoln's-inn-fields, or the first degree of Taurus, and in the year of our Lord 1671, or the 1000th year of the Julian period : all which distances we measure by preconceived ideas of certain lengths of space and duration, as inches, feet, miles, and degrees ; and in the other, minutes, days, and years, Sec. *) 9. ALL THE TARTS OF EXTENSION ARE EXTENSION ; AND ALL Till PARTS OF DURATION ARE DURATION. There is one thing more wherein space and duration have a great conformity ; and that is, though they are justly reckoned among our simple ideas, yet none of the distinct ideas we have of either is without all manner of composition j* it is the very nature of * It has been objected to Mr. Locke, that if space consists of parts, as it is con- fessed in this place, he should not have reckoned it in the number of simple ideas ; because it seems to be inconsistent with what he says elsewhere, that a simple idea is uncompounded, and contains in it nothing but one uniform appearance or conception of the mind, and is not distinguishable into different ideas. It is farther objected, that Mr. Locke has not given in the eleventh chapter of the second book, where he begins to speak of simple ideas, an exact definition of what he understands by the words simple ideas. To these difficulties Mr. Locke answers thus : To begin with the last, he declares that he has not treated his subject in an order perfectly scholastic, having not had much familiarity with those sort of books during the. writing of his, and not remembering at all the method in which they are written ; and therefore his readers ought not to expect definitions regu- larly placed at the beginning of each new subject. Mr. Locke contents himself to employ the principal terms that he uses, so that from his use of them the reader mo y easily comprehend what he means by them. But with respect to the term simple idea, he has had the good luck to define that in the place cited in the objection ; and therefore there is no reason to supply that defect. The question then is to know whether the idea of extension agrees with this definition ? which will effectually agree to it, if it be understood in the sense which Mr. Locke had principally in his view ; for that composition which he designed to exclude in that definition was a composition ol different ideas in the mind, and not a composition of the same kind in a thing whose essence consists in having; parts of the same kind, where you can never come to a part entirely exempted from this composition. So that if the idea of extension consists in having partes extra partes (as the schools speak,) it is always, in the sense of Mr. Locke, a simple idea ; because the idea of having partes extra partes cannot be resolved into two other ideas. For the remainder of the objection made to Mr. Locke with respect to the nature of exten- sion, Mr. Locke was aware of it, as may be seen in j 9, chap. 15, of the second book, where he says, that " the least portion of space or extension, whereof we have a clear and distinct idea, may perhaps be the fittest to be con- sidered by us as a simple idea of that kind, out of which our complex modes of space and extension are made up." So that, according to Mr. Locke, it may very fitly be called a simple idea, since it is the least idea of space that the mind can form to itself, and that cannot be divided by the mind into any >ess, whereof it has in itself any determined perception. From whence it follows. • if. XIV. J DURATION AND EXPANSJ0N CONSIDERED. 191 both of them to consist of parts : but their parts being all of the same kind, and without the mixture of any other idea, hinder them not from having a place among simple ideas. Could the mind, as in number, come to so small a part of extension or duration as excluded divisibility, that would be, as it were, the indivisible unit or idea; by repetition of which it would make its more enlarged ideas of extension and duration. But since the mind is not able to frame an idea of any space without parts, instead thereof it makes use of the common measures, which by familiar use, in each country, have imprinted themselves on the memory, (as inches and feet, or cubits and parasangs; and so seconds, minutes, hours, days, and years in duration :) the mind makes use, 1 say, of such ideas as these, as simple ones ; and these are the component parts of larger ideas, which the mind, upon occasion, makes by the addition of such known lengths, which it is acquainted with. On the other side, the ordinary smallest measure we have of either is looked on as a unit in number, when the mind by division would reduce them into less fractions. Though on both sides, both in addition and division, either of space or duration, when the idea under consideration becomes very big or very small, its precise bulk becomes very obscure and confused ; and it is the number of its repeated addi- tions or divisions that alone remains clear and distinct, as will easily appear to any one who will let. his thoughts loose in the vast expansion of space, or divisibility of matter. Kvery part of duration is duration too ; and every part of extension is extension, both of them capable of addition or division in infini- tum. But the least portions of either of them, whereof we have clear and distinct ideas, may perhaps be fittest to be considered by us as the simple ideas of that kind, out of which our complex modes of space, extension, and duration, are made up, and into which they can again be distinctly resolved. Such a small part in duration may be called a moment, and is the time of one idea in our minds in the train of their ordinary succession there. The other wanting a proper name, 1 know not whether I may be allowed to call a sensible point, meaning thereby the least par- ticle of matter or Space we can discern, which is ordinarily about a minute, and to the sharpest eyes seldom less than thirty seconds of a circle, whereof the eye is the centre. ihal.it is to the mind one simple idea ; and that is sufficient to take away this ob- jection: for it is not the design of Mr. Locke, in this place, to discourse of" any thing but concerning the idea of the mind. But if" this is not sufficient to clear the difficulty, Mr. Locke hath nothing more to add, but that if the idea of exlea- so peculiar that it. cannot exactly agree with the definition that he has given of those simple ideas, so that il differs in some maimer from all others of that kiii'l. he thinks, it is better to leave il there exposed to this difficulty, than to make a new division in his favour. It is enough for Mr. Locke that his meaning ran be understood. If is very common to observe intelligible discourses spoiled by too much subtlety in nice divisions. We ought to put things together as well ai we can, dectrina cnusa ; but, after all, several things will not be bundled up her under our terms and ways of speaking. 11)2 DURATION AND EXPANSION CONSIDERED. [BOOK II. § 10. THEIR PARTS INSEPARABLE. Expansion and duration have this farther agreement, that though they are both considered by us as having parts, yet their parts are not separable one (*ro;n another, no, not even in thought : though the parts of bodies from whence we take our measure of the one, and the parts of motion, or rather the succession of ideas in our minds, from whence we take the measure of the other, may be interrupted and separated ; as the one is often by rest, and the other is by sleep, which we call rest too. §11. DURATION IS AS A LINE, EXPANSION AS A SOLID. But there is this manifest difference between them ; that the ideas of length, which we have of expansion, are turned every way, and so make figure, and breadth, and thickness ; but dura- tion is but as it were the length of one straight line, extended in infinitum, not capable of multiplicity, variation, or figure ; but is one common measure of all existence whatsoever, wherein all thiegs, whilst they exist, equally partake. For this present mo- ment is common to all things that are now in being, and equally comprehends that part of their existence, as much as if they were all but one single being ; and we may truly say, they all exist in the same moment of time. Whether angels and spirits have any analogy to this, in respect of expansion, is beyond my comprehension : and perhaps for us, who have understandings and comprehensions suited to our own preservation, . and the ends of our own being, but not to the reality and extent of all other beings ; it is near as hard to conceive any existence, or to have an idea of any real being, with a perfect negation of all manner of expansion — as it is to have the idea of any real exist- ence with the perfect negation of all manner of duration ; and therefore what spirits have to do with space, or how they com- municate in it, we know not. All that we know is, that bodies do each singly possess its proper portion of it, according to the extent of solid parts ; and thereby exclude all other bodies from having any share in that particular portion of space, whilst it remains there. § 12. DURATION HAS NEVER TWO PARTS TOGETHER, EXPANSION ALL TOGETHER. Duration, arid time, which is a part of it, is the idea we have of perishing distance, of which no two parts exist together, but follow each other in succession ; as expansion is the idea of lasting distance, all whose parts exist together, and are not capa- ble of succession. And therefore, though we cannot conceive any duration without succession, nor can put it together in our thoughts, that any being does now exist to-morrow, or possess at once more than the present moment of duration ; yet we can conceive the eternal duration of the Almighty far different from that of man, or aiiy other finite being; because man compre- hends not in his knowledge, or power, all past and future things ■„ his thoughts are but of yesterday, and he knows not what to- morrow will bring forth. What is once past he can never recall, and what is yet to come he cannot make present. What I say of man 1 say of ail finite beings ; who, though they may far exceed man in knowledge and power, yet arc no more than the meanest creature, in comparison with God himself. Finite of any mag- nitude holds not any proportion to infinite. God's infinite, dura- tion being accompanied with infinite knowledge and infinite power, he sees all things past and to come ; and they are no more^listanf from his knowledge, no farther removed from his sight, than the present : they all lie under the same view ; and there is nothing which he cannot make exist each moment he pleases. For the existence of all things depending upon his good pleasure, all things exist every moment that he thinks fit to have them exist. To conclude, expansion and duration do mutually embrace and comprehend each other ; every part of space being in every part of duration, and every part of duration in every part of expan- sion. Such a combination of two distinct ideas is, I suppose, scarce to be found in all that great variety we do or can conceive.. and may afford matter to farther speculation. CHAPTER XVI. OF NUMBER, <* 1. NUMBER. THE SIMPLEST AND MOST UNIVERSAL IDEA Among all the ideas we have, as there is none suggested to I he mind by more ways, so there is none more simple than that of unity, or one. It has no shadow of variety or composition in it : every object our senses are employed about, every idea in our understandings, every thought of our minds, brings this idea along with it ; and therefore it is the most intimate to our thoughts, as well as it is, in its agreement to all other things, the most univer- sal idea we have. For number applies itself to men, angels, actions, thoughts, every thing that either doth exist or can be imagined. § 2. ITS MODES MADE BY ADDITION. By repeating this idea in our minds, and adding the repetitions together, we come by the complex ideas of the modes of it. Thus by adding one to one, we have the complex idea of a couple ; by putting twelve units together, we have the com- plex idea of a dozen ; and so of a score, or a million, or any" other number* VOt. I. 95 194 NUMBER [BOOK I J, § 3. EACH MODE DISTINCT. The simple modes of numbers are of all other the. most dis- tinct ; every the least variation, which is an unit, making each combination as clearly different from that which approacheth nearest to it, as the most remote : two being as distinct from one as two hundred ; and the idea of two as distinct from the idea of three as the magnitude of the whole earth is from that of a mite. This is not so in other simple modes, in which it is not so easy, nor perhaps possible for us to distinguish betwixt two approach- ing ideas, which yet are really different. For who will undertake to find a difference between the white of this paper, and that of the next degree to it ; or can form distinct ideas of every the least excess in extension. \ § 4, THEREFORE DEMONSTRATIONS IN NUMBERS THE MOST PRECISE. The clearness and distinctness of each mode of number from all others, even those that approach nearest, makes me apt to think that demonstrations in numbers, if they are not more evi- dent and exact than in extension, yet they are more general in their use, and more determinate in their application ; because the ideas of numbers are more precise and distinguishable than in extension, where every equality and excess are not so easy to be observed or measured ; because our thoughts cannot in space arrive at any determined smallness, beyond which it cannot go, as an unit; and therefore the quantity or proportion of any the least excess cannot be discovered : which is clear otherwise in number, where, a? has been said, ninety-one is as distinguishable from ninety as from .nine thousand, though ninety-one be the next immediate excess to ninety. But it is not so in extension, where whatsoever "is more than just a foot or an inch, is not distinguish- able from the standard of a foot or an inch : and in lines which appear of an equal length, one may be longer than the other by innumerable parts ; nor can any one assign an angle which shall be the next biggest to a right one. & 5. NAMES NECESSARY TO NUMBERS. By the repeating, as has been said, the idea of an unit, and joining it to another unit, we make thereof one collective idea, marked by the name two. And whosoever can do this, and pro- ceed on still, adding one more to the last collective idea which he had of any number, and give a name to it, may count or have ideas for several collections of units, distinguished one from another, as far as he hath a series of names for following num- bers, and a memory to retain that series, with their several names ; all numeration being but still the adding of one unit to more, and giving to the whole together, as comprehended in one idea, a new or distinct name or sign, whereby to know it from those before and after, and distinguish it from every smaller or greater multitude of units. So that he that can add one to ope. v VI. J -i MJER. 195 and so to two, and so go on with his talc, taking siill with him the distinct names belonging to every progression ; and so again, by subtracting an unit from each collection, retreat and lessen them ; is capable of all the ideas of numbers within the compass of his language, or for which he" hath names, though not perhaps of more. For the several simple modes of numbers, being in our minds but so many combinations of units, which have no variety, nor are capable of any other difference but more or less, names or marks for each distinct combination seem more necessary than in any other sort of ideas. For without such names or marks \\e can hardly well make use of numbers in reckoning, espe- cially where the combination is made up of any great multitude of units ; which put together without a name or mark, to distin- guish that precise collection, will hardly be kept from being a heap in confusion. § 6. This 1 think to be the reason why some Americans I have .spoken with, (who were otherwise of quick and rational Darts enough,) could not, as we do, by any means count to one thou- sand, nor had any distinct idea of that number, though they could reckon very well to twenty ; because their language being scanty, and accommodated only to the few necessaries of a needy simple life, unacquainted either with trade or mathematics, had no words in it to stand for one thousand ; so that when they were discoursed with of those great numbers, they would show the hairs of their head to express a great multitude which they could not number ; which inability, 1 suppose, proceeded from their want of names. The Tououpinambos had no names for numbers above five ; any number beyond that they made out by showing their lingers, and the fingers of others who were present.* And I doubt not but we ourselves might distinctly number in words a great deal farther than we usually do, would we find out but some fit denomination to signify them by ; whereas in the way we take now to name them by millions of millions of millions, &c. it is hard to go beyond eighteen, or at most four and twenty decimal progressions, without confusion. But to show how much distinct names conduce to our well reckoning, or having useful ideas of numbers, let us set all these following figures in one con- tinued line, as the marks of one number ; v. g. Nonillions. Octillions. Septillions. Sextillions. Quint illions. 857324 162486 345896 437918 423147 Quatrillions. Trillions. Billions. Ah/lions. Units. 248106 235421 261734 368149 623137 The ordinary way of naming this number in English will be *he often repeating of millions, of millions, of millions, of mil- Hist'oitfe ,1'nn vnvii^p. f:iit enla tewedfl Braail.par Jennde Lery,c.20. $J-J. iyo a.umlkk; [book a-. lions, of millions, of millions, of millions, of millions (which is the denomination of the second six figures.) In which way it will be very hard to have any distinguishing notions of this num- ber : but whether, by giving every six figures a new and orderly denomination, these, and perhaps a great many more figures in progression, might not easily be counted distinctly, and ideas of them both got more easily to ourselves, and more plainly signified to others, 1 leave it to be considered. This 1 mention only to show how necessary distinct names are to numbering, without pretending to introduce new ones of my invention. § 7. WHY CHILDREN NUMBER NOT EARLIER. Thus children, either for want of names to mark the several progressions of numbers, or not having yet the faculty to collect scattered ideas into complex ones, and range them in a regular order, and so retain them in their memories, as is necessary to reckoning ; do not begin to number very early, nor proceed in it very far or steadily, till a good while after they are well furnished with,good store of other ideas ; and one may often observe them discourse and reason pretty well, and have very clear conceptions of several other things, before they can tell twenty. And some, through the default of their memories, who cannot retain the several combinations of numbers, with their names annexed in their distinct orders, and the dependence of so long a train of numeral progressions, and their relation one to another, are not able all their lifetime to reckon or regularly go over any mode- rate series of numbers. For he that will count twenty, or have any idea of that number, must know that nineteen went before, with the distinct name or sign of every one of them, as they stand marked in their order ; for wherever this fails, a gap is made, the chain breaks, and the progress in numbering can go no farther. So that to reckon right, it is required, 1. That the mind distin- guish carefully two ideas, which are different one from another only by the addition or subtraction of one unit. 2. That it retain in memory the names or marks of the several combinations, from an unit to that number ; and that not confusedly, and at random, but in that exact order that the numbers follow one another : in either of which, if it trips, the whole business of numbering will be disturbed, and there will remain only the confused idea of multitude, but the ideas necessary to distinct numeration will not be attained to. § 8. NUMBER MEASURES ALL MEASURABLES. This farther is observable in numbers, that it is that which the mind makes use of in measuring all things that by us are measura- ble, which principally are expansion and duration ; and our idea of infinity, even when applied to those, seems to be nothing but the infinity of number. For what else are our ideas of eter- nity and immensity, but the repeated additions of certain ideas QH. XVII. j INFINITY. 107 of imagined parts of duration and expansion, with the infinity of number, in which we can come to no end of addition ? For such an inexhaustible stock, number (of all other our ideas,) most clearly furnishes us with, as is obvious to every one. For let a man collect into one sum as great a number as he pleases, this multi- tude, how great soever, lessens not one jot the power of adding to it, or brings him any nearer the end of the inexhaustible stock of number, where still there remains as much to be added as if none were taken out. And this endless addition or addibility (if any one like the word better) of numbers, so apparent to the mind, is that, I think, which gives us the clearest and most dis- tinct idea of infinity : of which more in the following chapter. CHAPTER XVII. OF INFINITY. § 1. INFINITY, IN ITS ORIGINAL INTENTION, ATTRIBUTED TO SPACE, DURATION, AND NUMBER. He that wjuld know what kind of idea it is to which we give the name of infinity, cannot do it better than by considering to what infinity is by the mind more immediately attributed, and then how the mind comes to frame it. Finite and infinite seem to me to be looked upon by the mind as the modes of quantity, and to be attributed primarily in their first designation only to those things which have parts, and are capable of increase or diminution, by the addition or subtraction of any the least part ; and such are the ideas of space, duration; and number, which we have considered in the foregoing chapters. It is true, that we cannot but be assured, that the great God, of whom and from whom are all things, is incomprehensibly infinite : but yet when we apply to that first and supreme Being our idea of infinite, in our weak and narrow thoughts, we do it primarily in respect of his duration and ubiquity ; and, I think, more figu- ratively to his power, wisdom, and goodness, and other attributes, which are properly inexhaustible and incomprehensible, &c. For, when we call them infinite, we have no other idea of this infinity, but what carries with it some reflection on, and imitation of, that number or extent of the acts or objects of God's power, wisdom, and goodness, which can never be supposed so great or so mairy, which these attributes will not always surmount and exceed, let us multiply them in our thoughts as far as we can ; with all the infinity of endless number. I do not pretend to say how these attributes are in God, who is infinitely beyond the reach of our narrow capacities. They do. without doubt, contain in them all 198 INFINITY. [BOOK U, possible perfection : but this, I say, is our way of conceiving them, and these our ideas of their infinity. § 2. THE IDEA OF FINITE EASILY GOT. Finite then, and infinite, being by the mind looked on as modi- fications of expansion and duration, the next thing to be consi- dered is, how the mind comes by them. As for the idea of finite, there is no great difficulty. The obvious portions of extension, that affect our senses, carry with them into the mind the idea of finite; and the ordinary periods of succession, whereby we mea- sure time and duration, as hours, days, and years, are bounded lengths. The difficulty is, how we come by those boundless ideas of eternity and immensity, since the objects we converse, with come so much short of any approach or proportion to that largeness. § 3. HOW WE COME BY THE IDEA OF INFINITY. Every one that has any idea of any stated lengths of space, as a foot, finds that he can repeat that idea ; and, joining it to the former, make the idea of two feet ; and by the addition of a third, three feet ; and so on, without ever coming to an end of his addi- tion, whether of the same idea of a foot, or if he pleases of doubling it, or any other idea he has of any length, as a mile, or diameter of the earth, or of the orbis magnus : for whichsoever of these he takes, and how often soever he doubles, or any otherwise multiplies it, he finds that after he has continued his doubling in his thoughts, and enlarged his idea as much as he pleases, he has no more reason to stop, nor is one jot nearer the end of such addition, than he was at first setting out. The power of enlarging his idea of space by farther additions, remaining still the same, he hence takes the idea of infinite space. § 4. OUR IDEA OF SPACE BOUNDLESS. This, I think, is the way whereby the mind gets the idea of infinite space. It is a quite different consideration to examine whether the mind has the idea of such a boundless space actually existing, since our ideas are not always proofs of the existence of things ; but yet, since this comes here in our way, I suppose 1 may say, that we are apt to think that space in itself is actually boundless : to which imagination, the idea of space or expansion of itself naturally leads us. For it being considered by us either as the extension of body, or as existing by itself, without any solid matter, taking it up (for of such a void space we have not only the idea, but 1 have proved, as I think, from the motion of body, its necessary existence,) it is impossible the mind should be ever able to find or suppose any end of it, or be stopped any where in its progress in this space, how far soever it extends its thoughts. Any bounds made with body, even adamantine walls, are so far from putting a stop to the mind in its farther progress Clf. XVII. j INPINIII'. 199 in space and extension, that it rather facilitates and enlarges it ; for so far as that body reaches, so far no one can doubt of exten- sion : and when we are come to the utmost extremity of body, what is there that can there put a stop and satisfy the mind that it is at the end of space, when it perceives that it is not ; nay. when it. is satisfied that body itself can move into it ? For if it bo necessary for the motion of body, that there should be an empty space, though ever so little, here among bodies ; and if it be possible for body to move in or through that empty space (nay, it is impossible for any particle of matter to move but into an empty space,) the same possibility of a body's moving into a void space, beyond the utmost bounds of body, as well as into a void space interspersed among bodies, will always remain clear and evident : the idea of empty pure space, whether within or beyond the • onfines of all bodies, being exactly the same, differing not in nature, though in bulk ; and there being nothing to hinder body from moving into it. So that wherever the mind places itself by any thought, either among or remote from all bodies, it can in this uniform idea of space nowhere find any bounds, any end ; and so must necessarily conclude it, by the very nature and idea of each part of it, to be actually infinite. § 5. AND SO OF DURATION. As by the power we find in ourselves of repeating, as often as we will, any idea of space, we get the idea of immensity ; so, by being able to repeat the idea of any length of duration we have in our minds, with all the endless addition of number, we < ome by the idea of eternity. For we find in ourselves, we can no more come to an end of such repeated ideas, than we can come to the end of number, which every one perceives he cannot. But here again it is another question, quite different from our having an idea of eternity, to know whether there were any real being, whose duration has been eternal. And as to this, I say, he that considers something now existing, must necessarily come to something eternal. But having spoke of this in another place, I shall say here no more of it, but proceed on to some other con- siderations of our idea of infinity. § 6. WHY OTHER IDEAS ARE NOT CAPABLE Or INFINITY'. If it be so, that our idea of infinity be got from the power we observe in ourselves of repeating without end our own ideas ; it may be demanded, " why we do not attribute infinite to other ideas, as well as those of space and duration ;" since they may be as easily and as often repeated in our minds as the other : and vet nobody ever thinks of infinite sweetness, or infinite white- ness, though he can repeat the idea of sweet or white as fre- quently as those of a yard, or a day ? To which I answer, all i he ideas that arc considered as having parts, and are capable <>f increase by the addition of any equal or less parts, afford ns 200 INFIMTi. [BOOK If. fey their repetition the idea of infinity ; because with this endless repetition there is continued an enlargement, of which there can be no end. But in other ideas it is not so ; for to the largest idea of extension or duration that I at present have, the addition of any the least part makes an increase ; but to the perfectest idea 1 have of the whitest whiteness, if I add another of a less or equal whiteness (and of a whiter than I have I cannot add the idea,) it makes no increase, and enlarges not my idea at all ; and therefore the different ideas of whiteness, &c. are called de- grees. For those ideas that consist of pai is are capable of being augmented by every addition of the least part ; but if you take the idea of white, which one parcel of snow yielded yesterday to our sight, and another idea of white from another parcel of snow you see to-day, and put them together in your mind, they embody, as it were, and run into one, and the idea of whiteness is not at all increased ; and if we add a less degree of whiteness to a greater,, we are so far from increasing that we diminish it. Those ideas that consist not of parts cannot be augmented to what proportion men please, or be stretched beyond what they have received by their senses, but space, duration, and number, being capable of increase by repetition, leave in the mind an idea of endless room for more : nor can we conceive any where a stop to a farther addition or progression, and so those ideas alone lead our minds towards the thought of infinity. § 7." DIFFERENCE BETWEEN INFINITY OF SPACE, AND SPACE INFINITE. Though our idea of infinity arise from the contemplation of quantity, and the endless increase the mind is able to make in quantity, by the repeated additions of what portions thereof it pleases ; yet I guess we cause great confusion in our thoughts, when we join infinity to any supposed idea in quantity the mind can be thought to have, and so discourse or reason about an infi- nite quantity, viz. an infinite space, or an infinite duration. For our idea of infinity being, as I think, an endless growing idea ; but the idea of any quantity the mind has, being at that time terminated in that idea (for be it as great as it will, it can be no greater than it is,) to join infinity to it, is to adjust a standing measure to a growing bulk ; and therefore I think it is not an insignificant subtlety, if I say that we are carefully to distinguish between the idea of the infinity of space, and the idea of a space infinite : the first is nothing but a supposed endless progression of the mind, over what repeated ideas of space it pleases ; but to have actually in the mind the idea of a space infinite, is to sup- pose the mind already passed over, and actually to have a view of all those repeated ideas of space, which an endless repetition can never totally represent to it ; which carries in it a plain contradiction. 1.11. XVII.] lMlM'ii iOl ^ 8. WE HAVE NO IDEA OK INFINITE SPACE. This, perhaps, will be a little plainer, if we consider it in num- bers. The infinity of numbers, to the end of whose addition every one perceives there is no approach, easily appears to any one that reflects on it ; but how clear soever this idea of the in- finity of number be, there is nothing yet more evident, than the absurdity of the actual idea of an infinite number. Whatsoever positive ideas we have in our minds of any space, duration, or number, let them be ever so great, they are still finite ; but when we suppose an inexhaustible remainder, from which we remove all bounds, and wherein we allow the mind an endless progression of thought, without ever completing the idea, there Ave have our idea of infinity ; which though it seems to be pretty clear when we consider nothing else in it but the negation of an end, yet when we would frame in our minds the idea of an infinite space or duration, that idea is very obscure and confused, because it is made up of two parts, very different, if not inconsistent. For let a man frame in his mind an idea of any space or number as great as he will, it is plain the mind rests and terminates in that idea, which is contrary to the idea of infinity, which consists in a supposed endless progression. And therefore I think it is, that we are so easily confounded, when we come to argue and rea- son about infinite space or duration, &c. : because the parts of such an idea not being perceived to be, as they are, inconsistent, the one side or other always perplexes, whatever consequences we draw from the other ; as an idea of motion not passing on would perplex any one, who should argue from such an idea, which is not better than an idea of motion at rest : and such another seems to me to be the idea of a space, or (which is the same thing) a number infinite, i. e. of a space or number which the mind actually has, and so views and terminates in ; and of a space or number which, in a constant and endless enlarging and progression, it can in thought never attain to. For how large soever an idea of space I have in my mind, it is no larger than it is that instant that I have it, though I be capable the next in- stant to double it, and so on in infinitum : for that alone is infinite Avhich has no bounds ; and that the idea of infinity, in which our thoughts can find none. 0 0. NUMBER AFFORDS PS THE CLEAREST IDEA OF IMlM'n . But of all other ideas, it is number, as I have said, which 1 think furnishes us with the clearest and most distinct idea of in- finity we are capable of. For even in space and duration when the mind pursues the idea of infinity, it there makes use of the ideas and repetitions of numbers, as of millions and millions of miles, or years, which are so many distinct ideas, kept best by number from running into a confused heap, wherein the mind loses itself; and when it has added together as manv millions. Vol. I. 9fi 202 I3F1M1V. [BOOK. i= ■ &c. as it pleases, of known lengths of space or duration, the clearest idea it can get of infinity, is the confused incompre- hensible remainder of endless addible numbers, which affords no prospect of stop or boundary. § 10. OVn DIFFERENT CONCEPTION OF THE INFINITY OF NUMBER. | DURATION, AND EXPANSION. It will, perhaps, give us a little farther light into the idea we have of infinity, and discover to us that it is nothing but the in- iinity of number applied to determinate parts, of which we have in our minds the distinct ideas, if we consider that number is not generally thought by us infinite, whereas duration and exten- sion are apt to be so ; which arises from hence, that in number we are at one end as it were : for there being in number nothing less than a unit, we there stop, and are at an end ; but in addition or increase of number, we can set no bounds. And so it is like a line, whereof one end terminating with us, the other is extend- ed still forward beyond all that we can conceive ; but in space and duration it is otherwise. For in duration we consider it, as if this line of number were extended both ways to an uncon- ceivable, undetcrminate, and infinite length: which is evident to any one that will but reflect on what consideration he hath of eternity ; which, I suppose, he will find to be nothing else but. the turning this infinity of number both ways a parte ante and a parte post, as they speak. For when we would consider eternity, a parte ante, what do we but, beginning from ourselves and the. present time we are in, repeat in our minds the ideas of years, or ages, or any other assignable portion of duration past, with a prospect of proceeding in such addition with all the infinity of number ? and when we would consider eternity, a parte post, we just after the same rate begin from ourselves, and reckon by multiplied periods yet to come, still extending that line of num- ber, as before. And these two being put together, are .that infi- nite duration we call eternity : which, as we turn our view either way, forward or backward, appears infinite, because we still turn that way the infinite end of number, i. c. the power still of adding more. § 11.' The same happens also in space, wherein conceiving ourselves to be as it wore in the centre, we do on all sides pursue those indeterminable lines of number; and reckoning any way from nursefws, a yard, rriiie, diameter of the earth, or orbis magrrns, by the infinity of number, we add others to them as often as we will ; and having no more reason to set bounds to those re^ peated ideas than we have to set bounds to number, we have that indeterminable idea of imntensitv. eM. xvii.] !.\i i.m j \. $03 § 12. IM IN) 1 i: DIVISIBl \ nd since in any bulk of matter our thoughts can never ai at the utmost divisibility, therefore tk6re is an apparent infinity to us also in that, which has the infinity also of number: but with this difference, that, in the former considerations of the infinity oi space and duration, we only use addition of numbers ; whereas this is like the division of a unit into its fractions, wherein the mind also can proceed in infinitum, as well as in the former addi- tions ; it being indeed but the addition still of new numbers : though in the addition of the one we can have no more the posi- tive idea of a space infinitely great, than, in the division of the other, we can have the idea of a body infinitely little ; our idea of infinity being, as I may say, a growing or fugitive idea, still in a boundless progression, that can stop nowhere. § 13. SO POSITIVE IDEA OF INFfXITi'. Though it he hard, I think, to find any one so absurd as to say Tie has the positive idea of an actual infinite number • the infinitv whereof lies only in a power still of adding any combination of units to any former number, and that as long and as much as one will ; the like also being in the infinity of space and duration, which power leaves always to the mind room for endless addi- tions ; yet there be those who imagine they have positive ideas of infinite duration and space. It would, 1 think, be enough to destroy any such positive idea of infinite, to ask him that'has it, whether he could add to it or no ; which would easily show the mistake of such a positive idea. Wo can, 1 think, have no posi- tive idea of any space or duration which is not made up and com- mensurate to repeated numbers of feet or yards, or days and years, which are the common measures, whereof We have the ideas in our minds, and whereby we judge of the greatness of this sort of quantities. And therefore, since an infinite idea of space or duration must needs be made up of infinite parts, it can have no other infinity than that of number, capable still of farther addi- tion ; but not an actual positive idea of a number infinite. For, I think, it is evident that the addition of finite things, together (as are all lengths, whereof we have the positive ideas) can never otherwise produce the idea of infinite, than as number does ; which, consisting of additions of finite units one to another, sug- gests the idea of infinite, only by a power we find we have of still increasing the sum, and adding more of the same kind, with- out coming one jot nearer the end of such progression. ; i'- They who would prove their idea of infinite to be positive. seem to me to do it by a pleasant argument, taken from the ne- gation of an end ; which being negative, the negation of it is positive, lie. that considers that the end is, in body, but the extremity or superficies of that body, will not perhaps be forward 204 INFINITY. [jiUOKIL * to grant that the end is a bare negative : and he that perceives the end of his pen is black or white, will be apt to think that the end is something more than a pure negation. Nor is it, when applied to duration, the bare negation of existence, but more properly the last moment of it. But if they will have the end to be nothing but the bare negation of existence, I am sure they cannot deny but the beginning is the first instant of being, and is not by anybody conceived to be a bare negation : and, therefore, by their own argument, the idea of eternal, a parte ante, or of a duration without a beginning, is but a negative idea. § 15. WHAT IS POSITIVE, WHAT NEGATIVE, IN OUR IDEA OF INFINITE. The idea of infinite has, I confess, something of positive in all those things we apply to it. When we would think of infinite space or duration, we at first step usually make some very large idea, as perhaps of millions of ages, or miles, which possibly we double and multiply several times. All that we thus amass to- gether in our thoughts, is positive, and the assemblage of a great number of positive ideas, of space or duration. But what still remains beyond this, we have no more a positive distinct notion of, than a mariner has of the depth of the sea ; where, having let down a large portion of his sounding-line, he reaches no bottom : whereby he knows the depth to be so many fathoms and more ; but how much the more is he hath no distinct notion at all :* and could he always supply new line, and find the plum- met always sink, without ever stopping, he would be something in the posture of the mind reaching after a complete and posi- tive idea of infinity. In which case let this line be ten, or one thousand fathoms long, it equally discovers what is beyond it : and gives only this confused and comparative idea, that this is not all, but one may yet go farther. So much as the mind com- prehends of any space, it has a positive idea of; but in endea- vouring to make it infinite, it being always enlarging, always ad- vancing, the idea is still imperfect and' incomplete. So much space as the mind takes a view of in its contemplation of great- ness, is a clear picture, and positive in the understanding : but infinite is still greater. 1. Then the idea of so much is positive and clear. 2. The idea of greater is also clear, but it is but a comparative idea, viz. the idea of so much greater as cannot be comprehended ; and is plainly negative, not positive. For he has no positive clear idea of the largeness of any extension (which is that sought for in the idea of infinite,) that has not a comprehensive, idea of the dimensions of it; and such nobody, I think, pretends to in what is infinite. For to say a man has a positive clear idea of any quantity, without knowing how great it is, is as reasonable as to say, he has the positive clear idea of the number of the sands on the sea-shore, who knows not how many there be, but only that they are more than twenty. For just such a perfect and positive idea has he of an infinite space or vll. XVII. J INFINITY. 205 duration, who says it is larger than the extent or duration often, one hundred, one thousand, or any other number of miles, or years, whereof he has, or can have, a positive idea ; which is all the idea, I think, we have of infinite. So that what lies beyond our positive idea towards infinity, lies in obscurity ; and has the indeterminate confusion of a negative idea, wherein I know I neither do nor can comprehend all 1 would, it being too large for a finite and narrow capacity : and that cannot but be very far from a positive complete idea, wherein the greatest part of what I would comprehend is left out, under the undeterminate intima- tion of being still greater : for to say, that having in any quantity measured so much, or gone so far, you are not yet at the end, is only to say, that that quantity is greater. So that the negation of an end in any quantity is, in other words, only to say, that it is bigger : and a total negation of an end is but carrying this big- ger still with you, in all the progressions your thoughts shall make in quantity, and adding this idea of still greater to all the ideas you have, or can be supposed to have, of quantity. Now whether such an idea as that be positive, I leave any one to ■consider. 0 16. WE HAVE NO POSITIVE IDEA OF AN" INFINITE DURATION, I ask those who say they have a positive idea of eternity, whether their idea of duration includes in it succession, or not ' If it does not, they ought to show the difference of their notion ot duration, when applied to an eternal being and to a finite ; since perhaps, there may be others, as well as I, who will own to them their weakness of understanding in this point ; and acknowledge that the notion they have of duration forces them to conceive, that whatever has duration, is of a longer continuance to-day than it was yesterday. If, to avoid succession in external exist- ence, they return to the punctum stans of the schools, I suppose they will thereby very little mend the matter, or help us to a more clear and positive idea of infinite duration, there being no- thing more inconceivable to me than duration without succession. Resides, that punclum stans, if it signify any thing, being not quantum, finite or infinite cannot belong to it. But if our weak apprehensions cannot separate succession from any duration whatsoever, our idea of eternity can be nothing but of infinite succession of moments of duration, wherein any thing does exist ; and whether any one has, or can have a positive idea of an actual infinite number, I leave him to consider, till his infinite number be so great that he himself can add no more to it ; and as long as he can increase it, I doubt he himself will think the idea he hath of it a little too scanty for positive infinity. § 17. I think it unavoidable for every considering rational creature, that will but examine his own or anv other existence, to have '206 IMIMii. (BOOK if, the notion oi* an eternal wise Being, who had no beginning ; and such an idea of infinite duration I am sure I have. But this ne- gation of a beginning being but the negation of a positive thing, scarce gives me a positive idea of infinity ; which, whenever I endeavour to extend my thoughts to, I confess myself at a loss, and I find I cannot attain any clear comprehension of it. § 18. NO FOSITIVE IDEA OF INFINITE SPACE. He that thinks he has a positive idea of infinite space, will, when he considers it, find that he can no more have a positive idea of the greatest, than he has of the least space. For in this latter, which seems the easier of the two, and more within our comprehension, we are capable only of a comparative idea of smallness, which will always be less than any one whereof we have the positive idea. All our positive ideas of any quantity, whether great or little, have always bounds ; though our compa- rative idea, whereby we can always add to the one and take from the other, hath no bounds ; for that which remains either great or little, not being comprehended in that positive idea which we have, lies in obscurity ; and we have no other idea of it, but of the power of enlarging the one, and diminishing the other, with- out ceasing. A pestle and mortar will as soon bring any particle of matter to indivisibility as the acutest thought of a mathema- tician; and a surveyor may as soon with his chain measure our. infinite space as a philosopher by the quickest flight of mind reach it, or by thinking comprehend it ; which is to have a positive idea of it. He that thinks on a cube of an inch diameter, has a clear and positive idea of it in his mind, and so can frame one of f , {, f-, and so on till he has the idea in his thoughts of something very little ; but yet reaches not the idea of that incomprehensible littleness which division can produce. What remains of small- ness is as far from his thoughts as when he first began ; and therefore he never comes at all to have a clear and positive idea of that smallness which is consequent to infinite divisibility. § 19. WHAT IS POSITIVE, WHAT NEGATIVE, IN OUR IDEA OF INFINITE, Every one that looks towards infinity does, as I have said, at first glance make some very large idea of that which he applies it to, let it be space or duration ; and possibly he wearies his thoughts, by multiplying in his mind that first large idea: but yet by that he comes no nearer to the having a positive clear idea oi what remains to make up a positive infinite, than the country-fel- low had of the water, which was yet to come and pass the channel of the river where he stood : Rusticus expectat dam trauseat amnis, atille LabitUr, et labetnr in omne volubilis sevum-. •vil. XVII.] INFIM1 \ . IO'i 20. SOME THINK THEY HAVE A POSITIVE IDEA OK ETERNITY, AND NOT OF INFINITE SPACE. There are some I have met with, that put so much difference between infinite duration and infinite space, that they persuade themselves that they have a positive idea of eternity ; but that they have not, nor can have any idea of infinite space. The reason of which mistake I suppose to be this, that tinding by a due contemplation of causes and effects, that it is necessary to admit some eternal being, and so to consider the real existence of that being, as taken up and commensurate to their idea of eternity ; but, on the other side, not finding it necessary, but on the contrary apparently absurd, that body should be infinite ; the}" forward! v conclude, that they have no idea of infinite space, because they can have no idea of infinite matter. Which conse- quence, 1 conceive, is very ill collected; because the existence of matter is noways necessary to the existence of space, no more, than the existence of motion, or the sun, is necessary to duration, though duration uses to be measured by it : and I doubt not but that a man may have the idea often thousand miles square, with- out any body so big, as well as the idea of ten thousand years without any body so old. It seems as easy to me to have the ulea of space empty of body, as to think of the capacity of a bushel without corn, or the hollow of a nut-shell without a kernel in it : it being no more necessary that there should be existing a ^olid body infinitely extended, because we have an idea of the infinity of space, than it is necessary that the world should be eternal, because we have an idea of infinite duration. And why should we think our idea of infinite space requires the real exist- ence of matter to support it, when we find that we have as clear an idea of an infinite duration to come, as we have of infinite dura- tion past ? Though, f suppose, nobody thinks it conceivable, that any thing docs or has existed in that future duration. Nor is it possible to join our idea of future duration with present or past existence, any more than it is possible to make the ideas of yes- terday, to-day, and to-morrow to be the same ; or bring ages past and future together, and make them contemporary. But if these men are of the mind, that they have clearer ideas of infinite duration than of infinite space, because it is past doubt that God has existed from all eternity, but there is no real matter coex- tended with infinite space ; yet those philosophers who are of opinion that infinite space is possessed by God's infinite omnipre- sence, as well as infinite duration by his eternal existence, must be allowed to have as clear an idea of infinite space as of infinite duration ; though neither of them, I think, has any positive idea of infinity in cither case. For whatsoever positive idea a man has in his mind of any quantity, he can repeat it, and add it to the former as easily as he can add together the ideas of two days, or two paces, which are positive ideas of lengths he has in his mind, and so on as long as he pleases ; whereby if a man had a 2&S INFIMTi. [BOOK 11, positive idea of infinite, either duration or space, he could add two infinites together ; nay, make one infinite infinitely bigger than another: absurdities too gross to be confuted. §21. SUPPOSED POSITIVE IDEAS OF INFINITY, CAUSE OF MISTAKES. But yet after all this, there being men who persuade themselves that they have clear positive comprehensive ideas of infinity, it is fit they enjoy their privilege : and I should be very glad (with some others that I know, who acknowledge they have none such) to be better informed by their communication. For I have been hitherto apt to think that the great and inextricable difficulties which perpetually involve all discourses concerning infinity, whether of space, duration, or divisibility, have been the certain marks of a defect in our ideas of infinity, and the disproportion the nature thereof has to the comprehension of our narrow capa- cities. For whilst men talk and dispute of infinite space or duration, as if they had as complete and positive ideas of them as they have of the names they use for them, or as they have of a yard, or an hour, or any other determinate quantity ; it is no wonder if the incomprehensible nature of the thing they dis- course of, or reason about, leads them into perplexities and con- tradictions ; and their minds be overlaid by an object too large and mighty to be surveyed and managed by them. § 22. ALL THESE IDEAS FROM SENSATION AND REFLECTION. If 1 have dwelt pretty long on the consideration of duration, space, and number, and what arises from the contemplation of them, infinity ; it is possibly no more than the matter requires; there being few simple ideas whose modes give more exercise to the thoughts of men than these do. I pretend not to treat of them in their full latitude ; it suffices to my design to show how the mind receives them, such as they are, from sensation and reflection ; and how even the idea we have of infinity, how remote soever it may seem to be from any object of sense or operation of our mind, has nevertheless, as all our other ideas, its original there. Some mathematicians perhaps, of advanced speculations, may have other ways to introduce into their minds ideas of infinity ; but this hinders not, but that they themselves, as well as all other men, got the first ideas which they had of infinity from sensation and reflection, in the method we have here set down. < H. Win.} OP OTHER SIMPLE WODES. 209 CHAPTER XVIII. OF OTHER SIMPLE MODI.-. j 1 . MUDES OV MOTIQN; Though I have in the foregoing chapters shown how from himple ideas, taken in by sensation, the mind comes to extend itself even to infinity ; which however it may, of all others, seem most remote from any sensible perception, yet at last hath nothing in it but what is made out of simple ideas, received into the mind by the senses, and afterward there pat together by the faculty the mind has to repeat its own ideas : though, I say, these might be instances enough of simple modes of the simple ideas of sensation, and suffice to show how the mind comes by them ; yet I shall, for method's sake, though briefly, give an account of some few more, and then proceed to more complex ideas. To slide, roll, tumble, walk, creep, run, dance, leap, skip, and abundance of others that might be named, are words which are no sooner heard but every one, who understands English, has presently in his mind distinct ideas, which are all but the different modifications of motion. Modes of motion answer those of extension : swift and slow are two different ideas of motion, the measures whereof arc made of the distances of time and space put together ; so they are complex ideas comprehending time and space with motion. <$ 3. MODES OF SOUNDS. The like variety have we in sounds. Every articulate word is a different modification of sound : by which we see, that from the sense of hearing, by such modifications, the mind may be furnished with distinct ideas to almost an infinite number. Sounds :dso, besides the distinct cries of birds and beasts, are modified by diversity of different notes of different length put together, w Inch make that complex idea called a tune, which a musician may have in his mind when he hears or makes no sound at all, by reflecting on the ideas of those sounds so put together silently m his own fancy. v.or-ES OF COLOURS. Those of colours arc also very various : some we take notice of as the different degrees, or, as they are termed, shades of the ^amc colour. But since we very seldom make assemblages of colours either for use or delight, but figure is taken in also and has its part in it. ae in painting, weaving, ncedU-works. &c. those Vol . r. 27 121 0 OF OTH£R SlJtfl'LE MODES. [BOOK II. which arc taken notice of do most commonly belong to mixed modes, as being made up of ideas of divers kinds, viz. figure and colour, such as beauty, rainbow, &c, '. MODES OF TASTE. Ail compounded tastes and smells are also modes made up of the simple ideas of those senses. But they being such as generally we have no names for, are less taken notice of, and cannot be set down in writing ; and therefore must be left without enumeration to the thoughts and experience of my reader. § 6. SOME SIMFLE MODES HAVE NO NAMES. In general it may be observed, that those simple modes which are considered but as different degrees of the same simple idea, though they are in themselves many of them very distinct ideas, yet have ordinarily no distinct names, nor arc much taken notice of as distinct ideas, where the difference is but very small be- tween them. Whether men have neglected these modes, and given no names to them, as wanting measures nicelyto distinguish Them — or because, when they were so distinguished, that know- ledge would not be of general or necessary use — I leave it to the thoughts of others: it is sufficient to my purpose to show that all our simple ideas come to our minds only by sensation and reflec- tion ; and that when the mind has them, it can variously repeat and compound them, and so make new complex ideas. But though white, red, or sweet, &c. have not been modified or made into complex ideas, by several combinations, so as to be named, and thereby ranked into species ; yet some others of the simple ideas, viz. those of unity, duration, motion, &c. above instanced in, as also power and thinking, have been thus modified to a great variety of complex ideas, with names belonging to them. § 7. WHY SOME MODES HAVE, AND OTHERS HAVE NOT, NAME-. The reason whereof, I suppose, has been ibis ; that, the great concernment of men being with men one among another, the knowledge of men and their actions, and the signifying of them to one another, was most necessary ; and therefore they made ideas of actions very nicely modified, and gave those complex ideas names, that they might the more easily record and discourse of those things they were daily conversant in, without long am- bages and circumlocutions ; and that the things they were conti- nually to give and receive information about might be the easier and quicker understood. Thai this is so, and that men in, framing different complex ideas and giving them names, have been much governed by the end of speech in general (which is a very short and expedite way of conveying their .thoughts one to another,) is evident in the names which in several arts have been found out and applied to several complex ideas of modified actions belong- ing to their several trades, for despatch sake, in their direction or GH. IX. j OP iin; MODI [INKING. SI discourses about them" ; which ideas arc not generally framed in the minds of men not eonVersant about these operations. And thence the word- that stand for them, by the greatest part of men of the same language, are not understood : r. g. colshire, drilling, filtration, qohobation, are words standing lor certain complex . wliich b lom in the minds of any but those few whose particular employments do at every turn suggest them to their thoughts, those names of them are not generally understood but by smiths and chymists ; who having framed the complex ideas which these words stand for, and having given names to them, or received them from others, upon hearing of these names in communication, readily conceive those idea- in their minds ; as bycohobation all the simple ideas of distilling, and the pouring the liquor distilled from any thing hack upon the remaining matter, and distilling it again. Thus we sec that there arc great varieties of simple ideas, as of tastes and smells, which have no names, and of modes many more ; which either not having been gene- rally enough observed, or else not being of any great use to be takeq notice of in the affairs and converse of men, they have not had names given to them, and so pass not for specie-. This we shall have occasion hereafter to consider more at large, yphjen we come to speak of words. < NAPTERXLV OF THE MODES OF THINKING 1. 3ENS VTION, REMEMBRANCE, CONTEMPLATION, &C When the mind turns its view inwards upon itself, and con- templates its own actions, thinking is the first that occurs* In it the mind observes a great variety of modifications, and from thence receives distinct ideas. Thus the perception which ac- tually accompanies, and is annexed to any impression on the body, made by an external object, being distinct from all other modifications of thinking, furnishes the mind with a distinct idea, which we call sensation; which is, as it were, the actual entrance of any idea into the understanding by the senses. The same idea, when it again recurs without the operation of the like object on the external sensory, is remembrance ; if it be sought after by the mind, and with pain and endeavour found and brought again in view, it is recollection ; if it be held there long under attentive i consideration, it is contemplation. When ideas float in our mind, without any reflection or regard of the understanding, it is that which the French call reverie, our language has scarce a name for it. When the ideas that offer themselves (for, as I have tt\2 OF THE MODES OF TIIIiVinSG. [BOOK 11. observed in another place, whilst we are awake there will always be a train of ideas succeeding one another in our minds) are taken notice of, and, as it were, registered in (he memory, it is attention. W hen the mind with great earnestness, and of choice, fixes its view on any idea, considers it on all sides, and will not be called olf by the ordinary solicitation of other ideas, it is that we call intention or study. Sleep, without dreaming, is rest from all these: and dreaming itself is the having of ideas, (whilst the outward senses are stopped, so that they receive not outward objects with their usual quickness) in the mind, not suggested by any external objects or known occasion, nor under any choice or conduct of the understanding at all. And whether that, which we call ecstasy, be not dreaming with the eyes open. I leave to be examined. These are some few instances of those various modes of think- ing which the mind may observe in itself, and so have as distinct ideas of, as it hath of white and red, a square or a circle. 1 do not pretend to enumerate them all, nor to treat at large of this set of ideas which are got from reflection : that would be to make a volume. It suffices to my present purpose to have, shown here, by some few examples, of what sort these ideas are, and how the mind comes by them ; especially since I shall have occasion hereafter to treat more at large of reasoning, judging, volition, and knowledge, which arc some of the most consider- able operations of the mind and modes of thinking. § 3. THE VARIOUS ATTENTION OF THE MIND IN THINKING. But perhaps it may not be an unpardonable digression, nor wholly impertinent to our present design, if we reflect here upon the different state of the mind in thinking, which those instances of attention, reverie, and dreaming, &c. before men- tioned, naturally enough suggest. That there are ideas, some or other, always present in the mind of a waking man, every one's experience convinces him, though the mind employs itself about them with several degrees of attention. Sometimes the mind fixes itself with so much earnestness on the contemplation of some objects, that it turns their ideas on all sides, remarks then- relations and circumstances, and views every part so nicely, and with such intention, that it shuts out all other thoughts, and takes no notice of the ordinary impressions made then on the senses, which at another season would produce very sensible percep- tions : at other times it barely observes the train of ideas that succeed in the understanding, without directing and pursuing any of them ; and at other times it lets them pass almost quite unre- garded!, as faint shadows thai make no impression. i H. XX.] MODES OF PLEASURE AND PAIN, § 1. HENCE IT IS PROrsAFtr.E THAT THINJCING is THE ACTION, NOT ^cr. OF THE sorr. This difference of intention and remission of the mind in thinking, with a great variety of degrees between earnest study and very near minding nothing at all, every one, I think, has ex- perimented in himself. Trace it a little farther, and you find the mind in sleep retired as it were from the senses, and out of thr-, reach of those motions made on the organs of sense, which at other times produce very vivid and sensible ideas. I need not for this, instance in those who sleep out whole stormy nights, without hearing the thunder, or seeing the lightning, or feeling the shaking of the house, which are sensible enough to those who are waking: but in this retirement of the mind from the senses, it often retains a yet more loose and. incoherent manner of thinking, which we call dreaming; and, last of all, sound sleep closes the scene quite, and puts an end to all appearances. This, I think, almost every one has experience of in himself, and his own observation without difficulty leads him thus far. That which I would farther conclude from hence is, that since the mind can sensibly put on, at several times, several degrees of thinking, and be sometimes even in a waking man so remiss, as' to have thoughts dim and obscure to that degree, that they are very little removed from none at all ; and at last, in the dark re- tirements of sound sleep, loses the sight perfectly of all ideas whatsoever: since, I say, this is evidently so in matter of fact and constant experience. I ask whether it be not probable that thinking is the action, and not the essence, of the soul ? since the operations of agents will easily admit of intention and remission, but the essences of things are not conceived capable of any such variation. But this bv the by. CHAPTER XX. OF MODES OF PLEASURE AND PAIN. § 1. PLEASURE AND PAIN S1MFLE IDEAS. Among the simple ideas which we receive both from sensation and reflection, pain and pleasure are two very considerable ones. For as in the body there is sensation barely in itself, or accom- panied with pain or pleasure ; "so the thought or perception of the mind is simply so, or else accompanied also with pleasure or pain, delight or trouble, call it how you please. These, like. other simple ideas, cannot be described, nor their names de- fined ; the way of knowing them is, as of the simple ideas of the senses, only by experience. For to define them by the presence of good or evil. i« no otherwise to make them known to us than 214 DES OP PLEASURE AND PAIN. [BOOK II. by making us reflect on what we feel in ourselves, -upon the seve- ral and various operations of good and evil upon our minds, as they are differently applied to or considered by us. (v 2. GOOD AND EVIL, WHAT. Things then arc good or evil only in reference to pleasure or pain. That we call good, which is apt to cause or increase pleasure or diminish pain in us ; or else to procure or preserve us the possession of any other good, or absence of any evil. And, on the contrary, we name that evil, which is apt to produce or increase any pain or diminish any pleasure in us ; or else to procure us any evil, or deprive us of any good. By pleasure and pain, I must be understood to mean of body or mind, as they are commonly distinguished ; though, in truth, they be only different constitutions of the mind, sometimes occasioned by disorder in the body, sometimes by thoughts of the mind. § 3. OUR PASSIONS MOVED BY GOOD AND EVIL. Pleasure and pain, and that which causes them, good and evil, are the hinges on which our passions turn : and if we reflect on ourselves, and observe how these, under various considera- tions, operate in us, — what modifications or tempers of mind, what internal sensations (if I may so call them) they produce in us, we may thence form to ourselves the ideas of our passions. § 4. LOVE. Thus any one reflecting upon the thought he has of the delight which any present or absent thing is apt to produce in him, has the idea we call love. For when a man declares in autumn, when he is eating them, or in spring, when there are none, that he loves grapes, it is no more but that the taste of grapes delights him : let an alteration of health or constitution destroy the de- light of their ta^te, and he then can be 'said to love grapes no longer. J o. HATRED. On the contrary, the thought of the pain which any thing pre- sent or absent is apt to produce in us, is what we call hatred. Were it my business here to inquire any farther than into the bare ideas of our passions, as they depend on different modifica- tions of pleasure and pain, I should remark, that our love and hatred of inanimate insensible beings is commonly founded on that pleasure and pain which we receive from their use and ap- plication any way to our senses, though with their destruction : bu1 hatred or love, to beings capable of happiness or misery, is often the uneasiness or delight which we find in ourselves, arising from a consideration of their very being or happiness. Thus the being and welfare of a man's children or friends, producing con- -:mt delight in h'm\. In- i- said constantly to lnvr them. But u CH. XX. J MODES OK D v. US. suffices to note, that our idea- of love and hatred are but the dispositions of the mind, m respect of pleasure and pain in gene- ral, however caused in us. § G. DESIRE. The uneasiness a man finds in himself upon the absence of any ihing, whose present enjoyment carries the idea of delight m ith ii, is that we call desire ; which is greater or less 'as that uneasiness is more or less vehement. Where, by the by, it may perhaps be of some use to remark, that the chief if not only spur to human industry and action is uneasiness. For whatso- ever good is proposed, if its absence carries no displeasure or pain with it, if a man be easy and content without it, there is no desire of it, nor endeavour after it ; there is no more but a bare vellcity, the term used to signify the lowest degree of desire, and that which is next to none at all, — when there is so little unea- siness in the absence of any thing, that it carries a man no far- ther than some faint wishes for it, without any more effectual or vigorous use of the means to attain it. Desire also is stopped or abated by the opinion of the impossibility or unattainableness of the good proposed, as far as the uneasiness is cured or allayed by that consideration. This might carry our thoughts farther, were it seasonable in this place. 7. Joy is a delight of the mind from the consideration of the nt or assured approaching possession of a good ; and Ave are then possessed of any good when we have it so in our power that we can use it when we please. Thus a man almost starved lias joy at the arrival of rejief, even before he has the pleasure of using it: and a father, in whom the very well-being of his children causes delight, is always, as long as his children arc in such a state, in the possession of that good ; for he needs but to reflect on it to have that pleasure. o. SORROW. Sorrow is uneasfhess in the mind upon the thought of a good lost, which might have been enjoyed longer, or the sense of a present evil. § 9. HOPE. Hope is thai pleasure in the mind, which every one finds in himself upon the thought of a profitable future enjoyment of a ihing which is apf to delight him. § 10. i . Fear is of the mind, uppn the thoughi < I fu evil likeh ■'• befall us. ■2,1.6 IXODES OF PLEASURE AM) PAKV. [BOOK II. <} 11. DESPAIR. Despair is the thought of the unattainableness of any good, which works differently in men's minds, sometimes producing uneasiness or pain, sometimes rest and indolency. § 12. ANGER. Anger is uneasiness or discomposure of the mind upon the receipt of any injury, with a present purpose of revenge. § 13. ENVY. Envy is an uneasiness of the mind, caused by the considera- tion of a good we desire, obtained by one we think should not have had it before us. § 14. WHAT PASSIONS ALL MEN HAVE. These two last, envy and anger, not being caused by pain and pleasure, simply in themselves, but having in them some mixed considerations of ourselves and others, arc not therefore to be found in all men, because those other parts of valuing their merits, or intending revenge, is wanting in them : but all the rest terminating purely in pain and pleasure, are, I think, to be found in all men. For we love, desire, rejoice, and hope, only in respect of pleasure; we hate, fear, and grieve, only in respect of pain ultimately : in fine, all these passions are moved by things, only as they appear to be the causes of pleasure and pain, or to have pleasure or pain some way or other annexed to them. Thus we extend our hatred usually to the subject (at least if a sensible or voluntary agent) which has produced pain in us, because the fear it leaves is a constant pain : but we do not so constantly love what has done us good; because pleasure operates not so strongly on us as pain, and because we are not so ready to have hope it will do so again. But this by .th by. § 15. PLEASURE AND PAIN, WHAT. By pleasure and pain, delight and uneasiness, I must all along be understood (as 1 have above intimated) to mean not only bodily pain and pleasure, but whatsoever delight or uneasiness is felt by us, whether arising from any grateful or unacceptable sen- sation or reflection. ; id. It is farther to be considered, that in reference to the pas- sions, the removal or lessening of a pain is considered and operates as a [Measure ; and the loss or diminishing of a plea- sure as a pain. L7. snAMi The passions too have most of them in most persons opera- ions on the body, and i ause various changes in it : which nol CH. XXI. J OF POWER. l\'t being always sensible, do not make a necessary part of the idea of each passion. For shame, which is an uneasiness of the mind upon the thought of having done something which is inde- cent, or will lessen the valued esteem which others have for us. lias not always blushing accompanying it. § 18. THESE INSTANCES TO SHOW HOW OUR IDEAS OF THE PASSTO.V- ARE GOT FROM SENSATION AND REFLECTION. I would not be mistaken here, as if I meant this as a discourse of the passions ; they are many more than those I have here named ; and those I have taken notice of would each of them require a much larger and more accurate discourse. I have only mentioned these here as so many instances of modes of pleasure and pain resulting in our minds from various considera- tions of good and evil. I might perhaps have instanced in other modes of pleasure and pain more simple than these, as the pain of hunger and thirst, and the pleasure of eating and drinking to remove them : the pain of tender eyes, and the pleasure of music ; pain from captious uninstructive wrangling, and the pleasure of rational conversation with a friend, or of well-directed study in the search and discovery of truth. But the passions being of much more concernment to us, I rather made choice to instance in them, and show how the ideas we have, of them are derived from sensation and reflection. CHAPTER XXL 0F POWER. § 1. THIS IDEA HOW GOT. The mind being every day informed, by the senses, of the alteration of those simple ideas it observes in things without, and taking notice how one comes to an end, and ceases to be, and another begins to exist which was not before : — reflecting also on what passes within himself, and observing a constant change of its ideas, sometimes by the impression of outward objects on the senses, and sometimes by the determination of its own choice ; and concluding from what it has so constantly observed to have been, that the like changes will for the future be made in the same things by like agents, and by the like ways ; — considers in one thing the possibility of having any of its simple ideas changed, and in another the possibility of making that change ; and so comes by that idea which Ave call power. Thus we say tire has a power to melt gold, i. c. to destroy the consistency of its insensible parts, and consequently its hardness,, Vofe. I. 23 iilfc Qfc>POWKR. [book n- and make it fluid, and gold has a power to be melted; that the sun has a power to blanch wax, and wax a power to be blanched by the sun, whereby tiie yellowness is destroyed, and whiteness made to exist in its room. In which and the like cases, the power we consider is in reference to the change of perceivable ideas ; for we cannot observe any alteration to be made in, or operation upon, any thing, but by the observable change of its sensible ideas ; nor conceive any alteration to be made, but by conceiving a change of some of its ideas. § 2. POWER ACTIVE AND PASSIVE'. Power, thus considered, is twofold, viz. as able to make, or a*le to receive, any change ; the one may be called active, and the other passive power. Whether matter be not wrholly desti- tute of active power, as its author God is truly above all passive power, and wdtether the intermediate state of created spirits be not that alone wrhich is capable of both active and passive power, may be worth consideration. I shall not now enter into thai: inquiry ; my present business being not to search into the original of power, but how we come by the idea of it. But since active powers make so great a part of our complex ideas of natural substances (as we shall see hereafter,) and 1 mention 'hem as such according to common apprehension ; yet they being not perhaps so truly active powers, as our hasty thoughts are apt to represent them, I judge it not amiss, by this intima- tion, to direct our minds to the consideration of God and spirits, for the clearest idea of active powers. § 3. POWER INCLUDES RELATION. I confess power includes in it some kind of relation (a rela- tion to action or change,) as indeed which of our ideas, of what kind soever, when attentively considered, does not ? For our ideas of extension, duration, and number, do they not all contain in them a secret relation of the parts ? Figure and motion have something relative in them much more visibly: and sensible qualities, as colours and smells, &c. what arc they but the powers of different bodies, in relation to our perception ? &c. And if considered in the things themselves, do they not depend on the bulk, figure, texture, and motion of the parts? All which include some kind of relation in them. Our idea, therefore, of power, I think, may well have a place among other simple ideas, and be considered as one of them, being one of those that make a prin- cipal ingredient in our complex ideas of substances, as we shall hereafter have occasion to observe. §4. THE CLEAREST IDEA OF ACTIVE POWER HAD FROM SPIRIT. We are abundantly furnished with the idea of passive power by almost all sorts of sensible things, in most of them we can- not avoid observing their sensible qualities, nav. the ir verv sub CH. XXI. "i OF VOWfclK. ,$H> stance?, to be in a continual flux: and therefore with reason we look on them as liable still to the same change. Nor have we of active power (which is the more proper signification of the word power) fewer instances : since whatever change is ob- served, the mind must collect a power somewhere able to make that change, as well as a possibility in the thing itself to receive it. But yet, if we will consider it attentively, bodies, by our senses, do not afford us so clear and distinct an idea of active power as we have from reflection on the operations of our minds. For all power relating to action, — and there being but two sorts of action whereof we have any idea, viz. thinking and motion, — let us consider whence we have the clearest ideas of the powers which produce these actions. 1 . Of thinking, body affords us no idea at all : it is only from reflection that we have that. 2. •Neither have we from body any idea of the beginning of motion, A body at rest affords us no idea of any active, power to move ; and when it is set in motion itself, that motion is rather a passion than an action in it. For when the ball obeys the motion of a biliard-stick, it is not any action of the ball, but bare passion : also when by impulse it sets another ball in motion that lay in its way, it only communicates the motion it had received from another, and loses in itself so much as the other received : which give« us but a very obscure idea of an active power of moving in body, whilst we observe it only to transfer, but not produce an y 7notion. For it is but a very obscure idea of power, which reaches not the production of the action, but the continuation of the passion. For so is motion in a body impelled b)r another : the continuation of the alteration made in it from rest to motion being little more an action than the continuation of the altera- tion of its figure by the same blow, is an action. The idea of the beginning of motion we have only from reflection on what passes in ourselves, where we find by experience, that barely by willing it, barely by a thought of the mind, we can move th« parts of our bodies which were before at rest. So that it seems to me, Ave have from the observation of the operation of bodies by our senses but a very imperfect obscure idea of active power, since they afford us not any idea in themselves of the power to begin any action, cither motion or thought. But if, from the impulse bodies are observed to make one upon another, any one thinks he has a clear idea of power, it serves as well to my purpose, sensation being one of those ways whereby the mind comes by its ideas : only I thought it worth while to consider here, by the way, whether the mind doth not receive its idea of active power clearer from reflection on its own operations than it doth from any external sensation. ' WILL AND UNDLK.STAMHNG 1WO POWERS Tins at least I think evident, that we find in ourselves a. power to begin or forbear, continue or end several actions belongs iur ro the wiu., The attributing to. faculties that which belonged not to theiq, has given occasion to this way of talking : but the introducing into discourses concerning the mind, with the name of faculties, a notion of their operating, has, 1 suppose, as little advanced our knowledge in that part of ourselves, as the great use and mention of the like invention of faculties, in the operations of the body, has helped us in the knowledge of physic. Not that f deny there are faculties, both in the body and mind : they both of them haye their powers of operating, else neither the one nor the other could operate. For nothing can operate that is not able to ope- rate ; and that is not able to operate that has no power to ope- rate. Nor do I deny, that those words, and the like, are to have their place in the common use of languages, that have made them Vol. I. ;>" i^O OF POWER. [BOGK. I& current, it looks like too much affectation wholly to lay them by : and philosophy itself, though it likes not a gaudy dress, yet when it appears in public, must have so much complacency as to be clothed in the ordinary fashion and language of the country, so far as it can consist with truth and perspicuity. But the fault has been, that faculties have been spoken of and represented as so many distinct agents. For it being asked, what it was that digested the meat in our stomachs ? it was a ready arid very satisfactory answer, to say, that it was the digestive faculty. What was it that made any thing come out of the body ? the expulsive faculty. What moved ? the motive faculty. And so in the mind the intellectual faculty, or the understanding, under- stood ; and the elective faculty, or the will, willed or commanded. This is in short to say, that the ability to digest, digested ; and the ability to move, moved ; and the ability to understand, understood. For faculty, ability, and power, I think, are but different names of the same things : which ways of speaking, when put into more intelligible words, will, I think, amount to thus much ; that di- gestion is performed by something that is able to digest, motion by something able to move, and understanding by something able to understand. And in truth it would be very strange if it should be otherwise ; as strange as it would be for a man to be free without being able to be free. § 21. BUT TO THR AGENT OR MAX. To return then to the inquiry about liberty, I think the question is not proper, whether the will be free, but whether a man be free. Thus, I think, 1 . That so far as any one can, by the direction or choice of his mind, preferring the existence of any action to the nonexistence of that action, and vice versa, make it to exist, or not exist; so far he is free. For if I can, by a thought directing the motion of my finger, make it move when it was at rest, or vice versa, it is evident, that in respect of that I am free : and if I can, by a like thought of my" mind, preferring one to the other, produce either words or silence, 1 am at liberty to speak or hold my peace; and as far as this power reaches, of acting, or not acting, by the de- termination of his owrn thoughts preferring either, so far a man is free. For how can we think any one freer than to have the power to do what he will ? And so far as any one can, by prefer- ring any action to its not being, or rest to any action, produce that action or rest, so far can he do what he will. For sue a preferring of action to its absence is the willing of it; and we ean scarce tell how to imagine any being freer than to be able to do what he wills. So that in respect of actions within the reach of such a power in him, a man seems as free, as it is possible (or freedom to make him. Ull. .\Xi.j OF POWER. .Ill § 22. IN RESPECT OF WILLING A MAN IS NOT FREE. But the inquisitive mind of man, willing to shift off from him- self, as far as he can, all thoughts of guilt, though it be by putting himself into a worse state than that of fatal necessity, is not con- tent with this : freedom, unless it reaches farther than this, will not serve the turn : and it passes for a good plea, that a man is not free at all, if he be not as free to will as he is to act what he wills. Concerning a man's liberty, there yet therefore is raised this farther question, Whether a man be free to will ? which I think is what is meant, when it is disputed whether the will be free. And as to that I imagine, v 23. That willing, or volition, being an action, and freedom consist- ing in a power of acting or not acting, a man in respect of will- ing, or the act of volition, when any action in his power is once proposed to his thoughts as presently to be done, cannot be free. The reason whereof is very manifest: for it being unavoidable that the action depending on his will should exist or not exist; — and its existence or not existence, following perfectly the deter- mination and preference of his will ; — he cannot avoid willing the existence or not existence of that action ; it is absolutely necessary that he will the one or the other ; i. c. prefer the one to the other : since one of them must necessarily follow : and that which does follow, follows by the choice and determina- tion of his mind, that is, by his willing it : for if he did not will it, it would not be. So that in respect of the act of willing, a man in such a case is not free : liberty consisting in a power to act, or not to act ; which, in regard of volition, a man, upon such a proposal, has not. For it is unavoidably necessary to prefer the doing or forbearance of an action in a man's power, which is once so proposed to his thoughts ; a man must necessarily will the one or the other of them, upon which preference or volition, the action or its forbearance certainly follows, and is truly volun- tary. But the act of volition, or preferring one of the two, being that which he cannot avoid, a man in respect of that act of will ing is under a necessity, and so cannot be free ; unless necessity and freedom can consist together, and a man can be free and bound at once. §24. This then is evident, that in all proposals of present action, a man is not at liberty to will or not to will, because he cannot for* bear willing : liberty consisting in a power to act or to forbear acting, and in that only. For a man that sits still is said yet to he at liberty, because he can walk if he wills it. But if a man sitting still has not a power to remove himself, he is not at liberty , so likewise a man falling down a precipice, though in motion, is not at liberty, because he cannot stop that motion if he would,. 22S OF POWER. | BOOK U> This being so, it is plain that a man that is walking, to whom it is proposed to give off walking, is not at liberty whether he will determine himself to walk, or give olF walking, or no ; he must necessarily prefer one or the other of them, walking or not walking ; and so it is in regard of all other actions in our power so proposed, which are the far greater number. For consider- ing the vast number of voluntary actions that succeed one another every moment that we are awake in the course of our lives, there are but few of them that, are thought on, or proposed to the will till the time they are to be done ; and in all such actions. as I have shown, the mind in respect of willing has not a power lo act, or not to act, wherein consists liberty. The mind in that case has not a power to forbear willing ; it cannot avoid some determination concerning them, let the consideration be as short, the thought as quick, as it will ; it either leaves the man in the state he was before thinking, or changes it; continues the action, or puts an end to it. Whereby it is manifest, that it orders and directs one, in preference to or with neglect of the other, and thereby either the continuation or change becomes unavoidably voluntary. § 25. THE WILL DETERMINED BY SOMETHING WITHOUT IT, Since then it is plain, that in most cases a man is not at liberty, whether he will, or no ; the next thing demanded, is, whether a man be at liberty to will which of the two he pleases, motion or rest ? This question carries the absurdity of it so manifestly in itself, that one might thereby sufficiently be convinced that liberty concerns not the will. For to ask, whether a man be at liberty to will either motion or rest, speaking or silence, which he pleases ; is to ask, whether a man can will what he wills, or be pleased with what he is pleased with ? A question which, I think, needs no answer ; and they who can make a question of it, must suppose one will to determine the acts of another, and another to determine ihnt ; and so on in infinitum. § 26. To avoid these and the like absurdities, nothing can be of greater use, than to establish in our minds determined ideas of the things under consideration. If the ideas of liberty and vo lition were well fixed in the understandings, and carried along with us in our minds, as they ought, through all the questions that are raised about them, I suppose a great part of the difficulties that perplex men's thoughts, and entangle their understandings, would be much easier resolved, and we should perceive where the confused signification of terms, or where the nature of the thing caused the obscuritv. E 1 ERMINES THE WILL. ( iood and evil, present and absent, it is true, work upon tin mind : but that which immediately determines the will, from lime to time, to every voluntary action, is the uneasiness of desire, fixed on some absent good ; cither negative, as indolence To one in pain ; or positive, as enjoyment of "pleasure. That it i-; (his uneasiness that determines the will to the successive, voluntary actions, whereof the greatest part of our lives is made up. and by which we are conducted through different courses to 23 1 oftpower. [book ir. different ends, I shall endeavour to show, both from experience and the reason of the thing. § 34. THIS IS THE SPRING OF ACTION. When a man is perfectly content with the state he is in, which is, when he is perfectly without any uneasiness, what industry, what action, what will is there left, but to continue in it ? of this every man's observation will satisfy him. And thus we see our All wise Maker, suitably to our constitution and frame, and knowing what it is that determines the will, has put into man the uneasiness of hunger and thirst, and other natural desires, that return at their seasons to move and determine their wills, for the preservation of themselves, and the continuation of their species. For I think we may conclude, that if the bare contemplation of these good ends, to which we are carried by these several unea- sinesses, had been sufficient to determine the will, and set us on work, we should have had none of these natural pains, and per- haps in this world little or no pain at all. " it is better to marry than to burn," says St. Paul ; where we may see what it is that chiefly drives men into the enjoyments of conjugal life. A little burning felt pushes us more powerfully than greater plea- sures in prospect draw or allure. S 35. THE GREATEST POSITIVE GOOD DETERMINES NOT THE WILL.. BUT UNEASINESS. It seems so established and settled a maxim by the general eoosent of all mankind, that good, the greater good, determines the will, that I do not at ail wonder, that when I first published my thoughts on this subject, I took it for granted ■ and I imagine that by a great many I shall be thought more excusable for having- then done so, than that now I have ventured to recede from so received an opinion. But yet, upon a stricter inquiry, I am forced to conclude, that good, the greater good, though appre- hended, and acknowledged to be so, does not determine the will. until our desire, raised proportionably to it, makes us uneasy in the want of it. Convince a man ever so much that plenty has its advantages over poverty; make him see and own, that the handsome conveniences of life are better than nasty penury : yet as long as he is content with the latter, and finds no uneasi- ness in it,°he moves not ; his will never is determined to any action that shall bring him out of it. Let a man be ever so well persuaded of the advantages of virtue, that it is as neces- sary to a man who has any great aims in this world, or hopes in the next, as food to life; yet, till he hungers and thirsts after righteousness, till he feels an, uneasiness in the want of it, his will will not be determined to any action in pursuit of this con- fessed greater good ; but any other uneasiness he feels in him- self shall take place, and carry his will to other actions. On the 5ther side; lei a drunted see thai his health decays, fais; estate DH. XXI. ] OF POWER. 233 wastes ; discredit and diseases, and the want of all things, even of his beloved drink, attends him in the course he follows ; yet the returns of uneasiness to miss his companions, the habitual thirst after his cups at the usual time, drives him to the tavern, though he has in his view the loss of health and plenty, and perhaps of the joys of another life: the least of which is no. inconsiderable good, but such as he confesses is far greater than the tickling of his palate with a glass of wine, or the idle chat of a soaking club. It is not want of viewing the greater good ; for he sees and acknowledges it, and, in the intervals of his drinking hours, will take resolutions to pursue the greater good; but when the unea- siness to miss his accustomed delight returns, the greater acknow- ledged good loses its hold, and the present uneasiness determines the will to the accustomed action ; which thereby gets stronger footing to prevail against the next occasion, though, he at the same time makes secret promises to himself, that he will do so no more : this is the last time he will act against the attainment of those greater goods. And thus he is from time to time in the state of that unhappy complainer, video meliora proboque, deteri- ora sequor : which sentence, allowed for true, and made good by constant experience, may this, and possibly no other way, be easily made intelligible. § 36. BECAUSE THE REMOVAL OF UNEASINESS IS THE FIRST STEP TO HAPPINESS. If we inquire into the reason of what experience makes so evident in fact, and examine why it is uneasiness alone operates on the will, and determines it in its choice : we shall find that we being capable but of one determination of the will to one action at once, the present uneasiness that we are under does naturally determine the will, in order to that happiness which we all aim at in all our actions ; forasmuch as whilst we are under any uneasi- ness, we cannot apprehend ourselves happy, or in the way to it : pain and uneasiness being, by every one, concluded and felt to be inconsistent with happiness, spoiling the relish even of those good things which we have ; a little pain serving to mar all the pleasure we rejoiced in. And therefore that which of course determines the choice of our will to the next action, will always be the removing of pain, as long as we have any left, as the first and necessary step towards happiness. § 37. BECAUSE UNEASINESS ALONE IS PRESENT. Another reason why it is uneasiness alone determines the will, may be this : because that alone is present, and it is against the nature of things that what is absent, should operate where it is not. It may be said, that absent good may by contemplation be brought home to the mind, and made present. The idea of it indeed may be in the mind and viewed as present there ; but nothing will be in the mind as a present good, able to counter- Vol. I. 30 234 of power, [book ir. balance the removal of any uneasiness which we are under, till it raises our desire ; and the uneasiness of that has prevalency in determining the will. Till then, the idea in the mind of whatever good, is there only, like other ideas, the object of bare unactive speculation, but operates not on the will, nor sets us on work ; the reason whereof [ shall show by and by. How many are to be found, that have had lively representations set before their minds of the unspeakable joys of heaven, which they acknowledge both possible and probable too, who yet would be content to take up with their happiness here ? And so the pre- vailing uneasinesses of their desires, let loose after the enjoyments of this life, take their turns in the determining their wills : and all that while they take not one step, are not one jot moved towards the good things of another life, considered as ever so great. § 38. BECAUSK ALL WHO ALLOW THE JOYS OF HEAVEN POSSIBLE, PUR- SUE THEM NOT. Were the will determined by the views of good, as it appears in contemplation greater or less to the understanding, which is the state of all absent good, and that which in the received opinion the will is supposed to move to, and to be moved by, I do not see how it could ever get loose from the infinite eternal joys of heaven, once proposed and considered as possible. For all absent good, by which alone, barely proposed and coming in view, the will is thought to be determined, and so to set us on action, being only possible, but not infallibly certain ; it is una- voidable, that the infinitely greater possible good should regularly and constantly determine the will in all the successive actions it directs : and then we should keep constantly and steadily in our course towards heaven, without ever standing still, or directing our actions to any other end ; the eternal condition of a future state infinitely outweighing the expectation of riches or honour, or any other worldly pleasure which we can propose to ourselves, though we should grant these the more probable to be obtained : fpr nothing future is yet in possession, and so the expectation even of these may deceive us. If it were so, that the greater good in view determines the will, so great a good once proposed could not but seize the will, and hold it fast to the pursuit of this infinitely greatest good, without ever letting it go again ; for the will having a power over and directing the thoughts as well as other actions, would, if it were so, hold the contemplation of the mind fixed to that good. BUT ANY GREAT UNEASINESS IS NEVER NEGLECTEP. This would be the state of the mind and regular tendency of ihe will in all its determinations, were it determined by that which is considered and in view the greater good ; but that it is not so is visible in experience : the infinitely greatest confessed i II. XXI.] OP POWER, good being often neglected to satisfy the successive uneasiness of our desires pursuing trifles. But though the greatest allowed, even everlasting unspeakable good, which has sometimes moved and affected the mind, does not steadfastly hold the will, yet we see any very great and prevailing uneasiness, having once laid hold on the will, lets it not go ; by which we may be convinced what it is that determines the will. Thus any vehement pain of the body, the. ungovernable passion of a man violently in love, or the impatient desire of revenge, keeps the will steady and intent ; and the will, thus determined, never lets the understand- ing lay by the object, but all the thoughts of the mind and powers of the body are uninterruptedly employed that way, by the determination of the will, influenced by that topping uneasi- ness as long as it lasts ; whereby it seems to me evident, that the will or power of setting us upon one action in preference to all other, is determined in us by uneasiness. And whether this be not so, I desire every one to observe in himself. § 39. DESIRE ACCOMPANIES ALL UNEASINESS. I have hitherto chiefly instanced in the uneasiness of desire, as that which determines the will, because that is the chief and most sensible, and the will seldom orders any action, nor is there any voluntary action performed, without some desire accompa- nying it ; which I think is the reason why the will and desire are so often confounded. But yet we are not to look upon the unea- siness which makes up, or at least accompanies most of the other passions, as wholly excluded in the case. Aversion, fear, anger, envy, shame, &c. have each their uneasiness too, and thereby influence the will. These passions are scarce any of them in life and practice simple and alone, and wholly unmixed with others ; though usually in discourse and contemplation, that carries the name which operates strongest, and appears most in the present state of the mind : nay, there is, I think, scarce any of the passions to be found without desire joined with it. I am sure, wherever there is uneasiness, there is desire : for we con- stantly desire happiness; and whatever we feel of uneasiness, so much it is certain we want of happiness, even in our own opinion, let our state and condition otherwise be what it will. Besides, the present moment not being our eternity, whatever our enjoy- ment be, we look beyond the present, and desire goes with our foresight, and that still carries the will with it. So that even in joy itself, that which keeps up the action, whereon the enjoyment depends, is the desire to continue it, and fear to lose it: and whenever a greater uneasiness than that takes place in the mind, the will presently is by that determined to some new action, and the present delight neglected. 236 OF POWER. [BOOK II. § 40. THE MOST PRESSING UNEASINESS NATURALLY DETERMINES THE WILL. But we being in this world beset with sundry uneasinesses, dis- tracted with different desires, the next inquiry naturally will be, which of them has the precedency in determining the will to the next action ? and to that the answer is, that ordinarily which is the most pressing of those that are judged capable of being then removed. For the will being the power of directing our opera- tive faculties to some action, for some end, cannot at any time be moved towards what is judged at that time unattainable : that would be to suppose an intelligent being designedly to act for an end only to lose its labour, for so it is to act for what is judged not attainable : and therefore very great uneasinesses move not the will, when they are judged not capable of a cure : they, in that case, put us not upon endeavours. But these set apart, the most important and urgent uneasiness we at that time feel, is that which ordinarily determines the will successively in that train of voluntary actions which makes up our lives. The great- est present uneasiness is the spur to action that is constantly felt, and for the most part determines the will in its choice of the next action. For this we must carry along with us, that the proper and only object of the will is some action of ours, and nothing else : for we producing nothing by our willing it but some action in our power, it is there the will terminates, and reaches no farther. §41. ALL DESIRE HAPPINESS. If it be farther asked, what it is moves desire ? I answer, Hap- piness, and that alone. Happiness and misery are the names of two extremes, the utmost bounds whereof we know not ; it is what " eye hath not seen, ear not heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive." But of some degrees of both we have very lively impressions, made by several instances of delight and joy on the one side, and torment and sorrow on the other ; which, for shortness sake, I shall comprehend under the names of pleasure and pain, there being pleasure and pain of the mind as well as the body : " with him is fulness of joy and pleasure for evermore." Or, to speak truly, they are all of the mind ; though some have their rise in the mind from thought, others in the body from certain modifications of motion. § 42. HAPPINESS, WHAT. Happiness, then, in its full extent, is the utmost pleasure we are capable of, and misery the utmost pain : and the lowest degree of what can be called happiness is so much ease from all pain, and so much present pleasure, as without which any one cannot be content. Now because pleasure and pain are produced in us CH. XXI.] OP POWER. 237 by the operation of certain objects, either on our minds or our bodies, and in different decrees, therefore what has an aptness to produce pleasure in us is that we call good, and what is apt to produce pain in us we call evil, for no other reason but for its aptness to produce pleasure and pain in us, wherein consists our happiness and misery. Farther, though what is apt to produce any degree of pleasure be in itself good, and what is apt to pro- duce any degree of pain be evil, yet it often happens that we do not call it so when it comes in competition with a greater of its sort ; because when they come in competition, the degrees also of pleasure and pain have justly a preference. So that if we will rightly estimate what we call good and evil, we shall find it lies much in comparison : for the cause of every less degree of pain, as well as every greater degree of pleasure has the nature of good, and vice versa* § 43. WHAT GOOD IS DESIRED, WHAT NOT. Though this be that which is called good and evil, and all good be the proper object of desire in general, yet all good, even seen, and confessed to be so, does not necessarily move every particu- lar man's desire, but only that part, or so much of it as is consi- dered and taken to make a necessary part of his happiness. All other good, however great in reality or appearance, excites not a man's desires, who looks not on it to make a part of that happiness wherewith he, in his present thoughts, can satisfy him- self. Happiness, under this view, every one constantly pursues, and desires what makes any part of it : other things, acknow- ledged to be good, he can look upon without desire, pass by, and be content without. There is nobody, I think, so senseless as to deny that there is pleasure in knowledge : and for the pleasures of sense, they have too many followers to let it be questioned whether men are taken with them or no. Now let one man place his satisfaction in sensual pleasures, another in the delight of knowledge : though each of them cannot but confess there is great pleasure in what the other pursues, yet neither of them making the other's delight a part of his happiness, their desires are not moved, but each is satisfied without what the other enjoys, and so his will is not determined to the pursuit of it. But yet as soon as the studious man's hunger and thirst make him uneasy, he, whose will was never determined to any pursuit of good cheer, poignant sauces, delicious wine, by the pleasant taste he has found in them, is, by the uneasiness of hunger and thirst, pre- sently determined to eating and drinking, though possibly with great indifferency, what wholesome food comes in his way. And on the other side, the epicure buckles to study when shame, or the desire to recommend himself to his mistress, shall make him uneasy in the want of any sort of knowledge. Thus, how much soever men are in earnest, and constant in pursuit of happiness, yet they may have a clear view of good, great and confessed 238 OF POWER. [book n . good , without being concerned for it, or moved by it, if they think they can make up their happiness without it. Though as to pain, that they are always concerned for ; they can feel no uneasiness without being moved. And therefore being uneasy in the want of whatever is judged necessary to their happiness, as soon as any good appears to make a part of their portion of hap- piness, they begin to desire it. § 44. WHY THE GREATEST GOOD IS NOT ALWAYS DESIRED. This, I think, any one may observe in himself and others, that the greater visible good does not always raise men's desires in proportion to the greatness it appears and is acknowledged to have ; though every little trouble moves us, and sets us on work to get rid of it. The reason whereof is evident from the nature of our happiness and misery itself. All present pain, whatever it be, makes a part of our present misery : but all absent good does not at any time make a necessary part of our present hap- piness, nor the absence of it make a part of our misery. If it did, we should be constantly and infinitely miserable; there being infinite degrees of happiness which are not in our possession. All uneasiness therefore being removed, a moderate portion of good serves at present to content men ; and some few degrees of pleasure, in a succession of ordinary enjoyments, make up a happiness wherein they can be satisfied. If this were not so, there could be no room for those indifferent and visibly trifling actions, to which our wills ace so often determined, and wherein we voluntarily waste so much of our lives ; which remissness could by no means consist with a constant determination of will or desire to the. greatest apparent good. That this is so, I think few people need go far from home to be convinced. And indeed in this life there are not many whose happiness reaches so far as to afford them a constant train of moderate mean pleasures with- out any mixture of uneasiness ; and yet they could be content to stay here for ever: though they cannot deny, but that it is possi- ble there may be a state of eternal durable joys after this life, far surpassing all the good that is to be found here. Nay, they cannot but see that it is more possible than the attainment and continuation of that pittance of honour, riches, or pleasure, which they pursue, and for which they neglect that eternal state : but yet in full view of this difference, satisfied of the possibility of a perfect, secure, and lasting happiness in a future state, and under a clear conviction that it is not to be had here, whilst they bound their happiness within some little enjoyment or aim of this life, and exclude the joys of heaven from making any necessary part of it, their desires are not moved by this greater apparent good, nor their wills determined to any action or endeavour for it« attainment. CH. XXI. j OP POWER. 239 § 45. WHY NOT BEING DESIRED, IT MOVES NOT THE WILL. The ordinary necessities of our lives fill a great part of them with the uneasiness of hunger, thirst, heat, cold, weariness of labour, and sleepiness, in their constant returns, &c. To which if, besides accidental harms, we add the fantastical uneasiness (as itch after honour, power, or riches, &c.) which acquired habits by fashion, example, and education, have settled in us, and a thousand other irregular desires, which custom has made natural to us 5 we shall find, that a very little part of our life is so vacant from these uneasinesses, as to leave us free to the attraction of remoter absent good. We are seldom at ease, and free enough from the solicitation of our natural or adopted desires, but a constant succession of uneasinesses out of that stock, which natural wants or acquired habits have heaped up, take the will in their turns : and no sooner is one action despatched, which by such a determination of the will we are set upon, but another uneasiness is ready to set us on work. For the removing of the pains we feel, and are at present pressed with, being the getting out of misery, and consequently the first thing to be done in order to happiness, absent good, though thought on, confessed, and appearing to be good, not making any part of this unhappiness in its absence, is justled out to make way for the removal of those uneasinesses we feel ; till due and repeated contemplation has brought it nearer to our mind, given some relish of it, and raised in us some desire : which then beginning to make a part of our present uneasiness, stands upon fair terms with the rest to be satisfied : and so, according to its greatness and pressure, comes in its turn to determine the will. § 46. DUE CONSIDERATION RAISES DESIRE. And thus, by a due consideration, and examining any good proposed, it is in our power to raise our desires in a due propor- tion to the value of that good, whereby in its turn and place it may come to work upon the will and be pursued. For good, though appearing, and allowed ever so great, yet till it has raised desires in our minds, and thereby made us uneasy in its want, it reaches not our wills ; we are not within the sphere of its activity; our wills being under the determination only of those uneasi- nesses which are present to us, which (whilst we have any) are always soliciting, and ready at hand to give the will its next deter- mination ; the balancing, when there is any in the mind, being only which desire shall be next satisfied, which uneasiness first removed. Whereby it comes to pass, that as long as any uneasi- ness, any desire remains in our mind, there is no room for good, barely as such, to come at the will, or at all to determine it. Be- cause, as had been said, the first step in our endeavours alter hap- piness being to get wholly out of the confines of misery, and to feel no part of it, the will can be at leisure for nothing else, till every uneasiness we feel be perfectly removed 5 which, in tb< 240 OF POWER. [book II. multitude of wants and desires we are beset with in this imperfect state, we are not like to be ever freed from in this world. § 47. THE POWER TO SUSPEND THE PROSECUTION ON ANY DESIRE MAKES WAY FOR CONSIDERATION. There being in us a great many uneasinesses always soliciting and ready to determine the will, it is natural, as I have said, that the greatest and most pressing should determine the will to the next action ; and so it does for the most part, but not always. For the mind having in most cases, as is evident in experience, a power to suspend the execution and satisfaction of any of its desires, and so all, one after another, is at liberty to consider the objects of them, examine them on all sides, and weigh them with others. In this lies the liberty man has ; and from the not using of it right comes all that variety of mistakes, errors, and faults which we run into in the conduct of our lives, and our endea- vours after happiness ; whilst we precipitate the determination of our wills, and engage too soon before due examination. To prevent this, we have a power to suspend the prosecution of this or that desire, as every one daily may experiment in himself* This seems to me the source of all liberty ; in this seems to con- sist that which is (as I think improperly) called free-will. For during this suspension of any desire, before the will be determi- ned to action, and the action (which follows that determination) done, we have opportunity to examine, view, and judge of the good or evil of what we are going to do ; and when, upon due examination, we have judged, we have done our duty, all that we can or ought to do in pursuit of our happiness ; and it is not a fault, but a perfection of our nature to desire, will, and act according to the last result of a fair examination. § 48. TO BE DETERMINED BY OUR OWN JUDGMENT, IS NO RESTRAINT TO LIBERTY. This is so far from being a restraint or diminution of freedom, that it is the very improvement and benefit of it ; it is not an abridgment, it is the end and use of our liberty ; and the farther we are removed from such a determination, the nearer we are to misery and slavery. A perfect indifferency in the mind not de- terminable by its last judgment of the good or evil that is thought to attend its choice, would be so far from being an advantage and excellency of any intellectual nature, that it would be as great an imperfection as the want of indifferency to act or not to act till determined by the will, would be an imperfection on the other side. A man is at liberty to lift up his hand to his head, or let it rest quiet ; he is perfectly indifferent in either ; and it would be an imperfection in him if he wanted that power, if he were deprived of that indifferency. But it would be as great an imperfection if he had the same indifferency whether he would prefer the lifting up his hand, or its remaining in rest, when it I'M. XXI. j OF POWER, Ml would save his head or eyes from a blow he sees coming : it is as much a perfection that desire, or the power of preferring, should be determined by good, as that the power of acting should be determined by the will : and the certainer such determination is, the greater is the perfection. Nay, were we determined by any thing but the last result of our own minds, judging of the good or evil of any action, we were not free ; the very end of our free- dom being, that we may attain the good we choose. And there- fore every man is put under a necessity by his constitution, as an intelligent being, to be determined in willing by his own thought and judgment what is best for him to do : else he would be under the determination of some other than himself, which is want of liberty. And to deny that a man's will, in every determination, follows his own judgment, is to say, that a man wills and acts for an end that he would not have, at the time that he wills and acts for it. For if he prefers it in his present thoughts before any other, it is plain he then thinks better of it, and would have it before any other ; unless he can have and not have it, will and not will it, at the same time ; a contradiction too manifest to be admitted ! § 49. THE FREEST AGENTS ARE SO DETERMINED. If we look upon those superior beings above us, who enjoy perfect happiness, we shall have reason to judge that they are more steadily determined in their choice of good than we ; and yet we have no reason to think they are less happy or less free than we are. And if it were fit for such poor finite creatures as we are to pronounce what infinite wisdom and goodness could do, I think we might say, that God himself cannot choose what is not good ; the freedom of the Almighty hinders not his behiLr determined by what is best. § 50. A CONSTANT DETERMINATION TO A PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS NO ABRIDGMENT OF LIRERTV. But to give a right view of this mistaken part of liberty, let me ask, " Would any one be a changeling, because he is less determined by wise considerations than a wise man ? Is it worth the name of freedom to be at liberty to play the fool, and draw shame and misery upon a man's self'" If to break loose from the conduct of reason, and to want that restraint of examination and judgment, which keeps us from choosing or doing the worse, be liberty, true liberty, madmen and fools arc the only freemen : but yet, I think, nobody would choose to be mad for the sake of such liberty, but he that is mad already. The constant desire of happiness, and the constraint it puts upon us to act for it, no- body, I think, accounts an abridgment of liberty, or at; least an abridgment of liberty to be complained of. God Almighty him- self is under the necessity of being happy ; and the more any intelligent being is so. the nearer is its approach iip to try, Noi lei any obi J4i OF POVVKK. [BOOK II, say he cannot govern his passions, nor hinder them from breaking out. and carrying him into action ; for what he can do before a prince, or a great man, he can do alone, or in the presence of God, if he will. § 54. HOW MEN COME TO PURSUE DIFFERENT COURSES. From what has been said, it is easy to give an account how it comes to pass, that though all men desire happiness, yet their wills carry them so contrarily, and yet consequently some of them do what is evil. And to this 1 say, that the various and contrary choices that men make in the world do not argue that they do not all pursue good, but that the same thing is not good to every man alike. This variety of pursuits shows, that every one does not place his happiness in the same thing, or choose the same way to it. Were all the concerns of man terminated in this life, why one followed study and knowledge, and another hawking and hunting ; why one chose luxury and debauchery, and another sobriety and riches ; would not be, because every one of these did not aim at his own happiness, but because their happiness was placed in different things. And therefore it was a right answer of the physician to his patient that had sore eyes : If you have more pleasure in the taste of wine than in the use of your sight, wine is good for you ; but if the pleasure of seeing be greater to you than that of drinking, wine is naught. §55. The mind has a different relish, as well as the palate ; and you will as fruitlessly endeavour to delight all men with riches or glory (which yet some men place their happiness in) as you would to satisfy all men's hunger with cheese or lobsters ; which though very agreeable and delicious fare to some, are to others extremely nauseous and offensive : and many people would with reason prefer the griping of an hungry belly to those dishes which arc a feast to others. Hence it was, I think, that the philosophers of old did in vain inquire, whether sunnmim bonum consisted in riches, or bodily delights, or virtue, or contempla- tion : and they might have as reasonably disputed whether the best relish were to be found in apples, plums, or nuts, and have divided themselves into sects upon it. For as pleasant tastes depend not on the things themselves, but their agreeableness to this or that particular palate, wherein there is great variety ; so the greatest happiness consists in the having those things which produce the greatest pleasure, and in the absence of those which cause any disturbance, any pain. Now these, to different men. are very different things. If therefore men in this life onh have hope, if in this life they can only enjoy, it is not strange nor unreasonable that they should seek their happiness by avoid- ing all things that disease them here, and by pursuing all thai delight them : therein \\ i •':!! he no wonder to find variety and OH. XXI. j OK POWER. ZA'j difference. For 11 there be no prospect beyond the grave, the inference is certainly right, " let us eat and drink," let us enjoy what we delight in, " for to-morrow we shall die." This, I think, may serve to show us the reason why, though all men's desires tend to happiness, yet they are not moved by the same object. Men may choose different things, and yet all choose right ; sup- posing them only like a company of poor insects, whereof some ;tre bees, delighted with flowers and their sweetness ; others beetles, delighted with other kinds of viands, which having enjoyed for a season, they would cease to be, and exist no more tor ever. § 56. HOW MEN COME TO CHOOSE ILI "., These things, duly weighed, will give us, as I think, a clear view into the state of human liberty. Liberty, it is plain, consists in a power to do, or not to do ; to do, or forbear doing, as we will. This cannot be denied. But this seeming to com- prehend only the actions of a man consecutive to volition, it is farther inquired, " whether he be at liberty to will, or no." And to this it has been answered, that in most cases a man is not at liberty to forbear the act of volition : he must exert an act of his will, whereby the action proposed is made to exist, or not to exist. But yet there is a case wherein a man is at liberty in respect of willing, and that is the choosing of a remote good as an end to be pursued. Here a man may suspect the act of his choice from being determined for or against the thing proposed, till he has examined whether it be really of a nature in itself, and consequences to make him happy, or no. For when he has once chosen it, and thereby it is become a part of his happiness, it raises desire, and that proportionably gives him uneasiness, which determines his will, and sets him at work in pursuit of his choice on all occasions that offer. And here we may see how it comes to pass, that a man may justly incur punishment, though it be certain that in all the particular actions that he wills he does, and necessarily does will that which he then judges to be good. For, though his will be always determined by that which is judged good by his understanding, yet it excuses him not: because, by a too hasty choice of his own making, he has imposed on himself wrong measures of good and evil ; which, however false and fallacious, have the same influence on all his future conduct as if they were true and right. He has vitiated his own palate, and must be answerable to himself for the sickness and death that follows from it. The eternal law and natureof things must not be altered to comply with his ill-ordered choice. If the neglect or abuse of the liberty he had to examine what would really and truly make for his happiness misleads him, the miscarriages that follow on it must be imputed to its own election. I le hud a power to suspend his determination : it was given him fhtfl he might examine and take care 61 !>i< own hap LMti OF POWER. [BOOK II. piness, and look that he were not deceived. And he could never judge, that it was better to be deceived than not, in a matter of so great and near concernment. What has been said may also discover to us the reason why men in this world prefer different things, and pursue happiness by contrary courses. But yet, since men are always constant, and in earnest, in matters of happiness and misery, the question still remains, How men come often to prefer the worse to the better ; and to choose that which, by their own confession, has made them miserable ? §57. To account for the various and contrary ways men take, though all aim at being happy, we must consider whence the various uneasinesses, that determine the will in the preference of each voluntary action, have their rise. FROM BODILY PAINS. 1 . Some of them come from causes not in our power : such as are often the pains of the body from want, disease, or outward injuries, as the rack, &c. which, when present and violent, ope- rate for the most part forcibly on the will, and turn the courses of men's lives from virtue, piety, and religion, and what before they judged to lead to happiness; every one not endeavouring, or through disuse not being able, by the contemplation of remote and future good, to raise in himself desires of them strong enough to counterbalance the uneasiness he feels in those bodily torments, and to keep his will steady in the choice of those actions which lead to future happiness. A neighbour country has been of late a tragical theatre, from which we might fetch instances, if there needed any, and the world did not in all countries and ages furnish examples enough to confirm that received observation. •' necessitas cogit ad turpia ;" and therefore there is great reason for us to pray, "lead us not into temptation." FROM WRONG DESIRES ARISING FROM WRONG JUDGMENT- 2. Other uneasinesses arise from our desires of absent good : which desires always bear proportion to, and depend on the judgment we make, and the relish we have of any absent good : in both which we are apt to be variously misled, and that by our own fault. § 58. OUR JUDGMENT OF PRESENT GOOD OR EVIL ALWAVS RIGHT. In the first place I shall consider the wrong judgments men make of future good and evil, whereby their desires are misled. For, as to present happiness and misery, when that alone come? into consideration, and the consequences are quite removed, a man never chooses amiss ; he knows what best pleases him, and that he actually prefers. Things in their present enjoyment an GH. XXI. J ok POWER. Ml what they seetn ; tiie apparent and real good are, in this case, always the same : for the pain or pleasure being just so great, and no greater that it is felt, the present good or evil is really so much as it appears. And therefore, were every action of ours concluded within itself, and drew no consequences after it, we should undoubtedly never err in our choice of good ; we should always infallibly prefer the best. Were the pains of honest in- dustry and of starving with hunger and cold, set togelher before us, nobody would be in doubt which to choose : were the satis- faction of a lust, and the joys of heaven, offered at once to any one's present possession, he would not balance or err in the determination of Ins choice. §59, But since our voluntary actions carry not all the happiness and misery that depend on them along with them in their present performance, but are the precedent causes of good and evil, which they draw after them, and bring upon us, when they them- selves are passed and cease to be ; our desires look beyond our present enjoyments, and carry the mind out to absent good, according to the necessity which we think there is of it to the making or increase of our happiness. It is our opinion of such a necessity that gives it its attraction : without that we are not moved by absent good. For in this narrow scantling of capacity; which we are accustomed to and sensible of here, wherein we enjoy but one pleasure at once, which, when all uneasiness is away, is, whilst it lasts, sufficient to make us think ourselves happy, it is not all remote, and even apparent good, that affects us. Because the indolency and enjoyment we have, sufficing for our present happiness, we desire not to venture the change ; since we judge that we are happy already, being content, and that is enough. For who is content, is happy.- But as soon as any new uneasiness comes in, this happiness is disturbed, and we are- set afresh on work in the pursuit of happiness. § 60. FROM A WRONG JUDGMENT OF WHAT MAKES A NECESSARY PART OF THEIR HAPPINESS. Their aptness therefore to conclude that they can be happy without it, is one great occasion that men often are not raised to the desire of the greatest absent good. For whilst such thoughts possess them, the joys of a future state move them not ; they have little concern or uneasiness about them ; and the will, free from (he determination of such desires, is left to the pursuit of nearer satisfactions, and to the removal of those uneasinesses which it then feels, in its want of and longings after them. Change but" a man's view of these things ; let him see that virtue and reli- gion arc necessary to his happiness, let him look into the future state of bliss or misery, and see there God, the righteous judge, roadv to " render to rverv man according to his deeds ; to their, 248 OF POWEfe. [BOOK II. who by patient continuance in well-doing seek for glory, and honour, and immortality, eternal life ; but unto every soul that doth evil, indignation, and wrath, tribulation and anguish :" to him, 1 say, who hath a prospect of the different state of per- fect happiness or misery that attends all men after this life, depending on their behaviour here, the measures of good and evil, that govern his choice, arc mightily changed. For since nothing of pleasure and pain in this life can bear any proportion to the endless happiness, or exquisite misery, of an immortal soul hereafter; actions in his power will have their preference, not .according to the transient pleasure or pain that accompanies or follows them here, but as they serve to secure that perfect dura- ble happiness hereafter. § 61. A MORE PARTICULAR ACCOUNT OF WRONG JUDGMENTS. But to account more particularly for the misery that men ofteu bring on themselves, notwithstanding that they do all in earnest pursue happiness, we must consider how things come to be repre- sented to our desires, under deceitful appearances : and that is by the judgment pronouncing wrongly concerning them. To see how far this reaches, and what are the causes of wrong judgment, we must remember that things are judged good or bad in a double, sense. First, That which is properly good or bad, is nothing but barely pleasure or pain. Secondly, But because not only present pleasure and pain, but that also which is apt by its efficacy or consequences to bring it upon us at a distance, is a proper object of our desires, and apt to move a creature that has foresight : therefore things also that draw after them pleasure and pain are considered as good and evil. §62. The wrong judgment that misleads us, and makes the will often fasten on the worse side, lies in misreporting upon the various comparisons of these. The wrong judgment I am hen speaking of, is not what one man may think of the determination of another, but what every man himself must confess to be wrong. For since I lay it for a certain ground that every intelligent being really seeks happiness, which consists in the enjoyment of plea- sure, without any considerable mixture of uneasiness ; it is impossible any one should willingly put into his own draught any bitter ingredient, or leave out any thing in his power that would tend to his satisfaction, and the completing of his happiness, but only by wrong judgment. I shall not here speak of that mistake, which is the consequence of invincible error, which scarce deserves the name of wrong judgment ; but of that wrong judg- ment which everv man himself must confess to bo so. 03 I'oWKK. -' [9 !, [jj COMPARING PRESENT AND FUTURE. ■ If, therefore, as to present pleasure and pain, the mind, as has been said, never mistakes that which is really good or evil ; thai which is the greater pleasure, or the greater pain, is really just as it appears. But though present pleasure and pain show then difference and degrees so plainly as not to leave room for mistake, vet when we compare present pleasure or pain with future (which is usually the case in the most important determinations of the will,) we often make wrong judgment? of them, taking our measures of them in different positions of distance. Objects near our view are apt to be thought greater than those of a larger size that are more remote : and so it is with pleasures and pains, the present is apt to carry it, and those at a distance have the. disadvantage in the comparison. Thus most men, like spend- thrift heirs, are apt to judge a little in hand better than a great deal to eorne ; and so, for small matters in possession, part with greater ones in reversion. But that this is a wrong judgment every one must allow; let his pleasure consist in whatever it will : since that which is future will certainly come to be present ; and then, having the same advantage of nearness, will show itself in its full dimensions, and discover his wilful mistake, who judged of it by unequal measures. Were the pleasure of drinking accompanied, the very moment a man takes off his glass, with that sick stomach and aching head, which, in some men, are sure to follow not many hours after ; I think nobody, whatever plea- sure he had in his cups, would, on these conditions, ever let wine touch his lips ; which yet he daily swallows, and the evil side comes to be chosen only by the fallacy of a little difference in in time. But if pleasure or pain can be so lessened only by a few hours' removal, how much more will it be so by a farther distance, to a man that will not by a right judgment do what time will, i. c. bring it home upon himself, and consider it as present, and there take its true dimensions ! This is the way we usually impose on ourselves, in respect of bare pleasure and pain, or the true degrees of happiness or misery : the future loses its just proportion, and what is present obtains the preference as the greater. 1 mention not here the wrong judgment, whereby the absent are not only lessened, but reduced to perfect nothing ; when men enjoy what they can in present, and make sure of that, concluding amiss that no evil will thence follow. For 'hat lies not in comparing the greatness of future good and evil, which is that we are here speaking of, but in another sort of wrong judgment, which is concerning good or evil, as it is con- rdered to he the cause and procurement of pleasure or pain, fhat will follow from it. Vol, I, 2o0 ' OF FOU'EE, [cook ir. § 64. causes of t fits. The cause of our judging amiss, when we compare our present pleasure or pain with future, seems to me to be the weak and narrow constitution of our minds. We cannot well enjoy two pleasures at once, much less any pleasure almost whilst pain pos- sesses us. The present pleasure, if it be not very languid, and almost none at all, fills our narrow souls, and so takes up the whole mind that it scarce leaves any thought of things absent ; or if, among our pleasures, there are some which are not strong enough to exclude the consideration of things at a distance ; yet we have so great an abhorrence of pain, that a little of it extin- guishes all our pleasures ; a little bitter mingled in our cup leaves no relish of the sweet. Hence it comes that at any rate we desire to be rid of the present evil, which we are apt to think nothing absent can equal ; because, under the present pain we find notour- selves capable of any the least degree of happiness. Men's daily complaintsare a loud proof of this: the pain that any one actually feels is still of all other the worst ; and it is with anguish they cry out, "Any rather than this ; nothing can be so intolerable as what I now suffer." And therefore our whole endeavours and thoughts are intent to get rid of the present evil, before all things, as the first necessary condition to our happiness, let what will follow. Nothing, as we passionately think, can exceed, or almost equal, the uneasiness that sits so heavy upon us. And because the abstinence from a present pleasure that offers itself is a pain, nay oftentimes a very great one, the desire being infla- med by a near and tempting object, it is no wonder that that operates after the same manner pain does, and lessens in our thoughts wha. is iuture; and so forces, as it were, blindfold into, its embraces. • Co. Add to this, that absent good, or, which is the' same thing, future pleasure, especially if of a sort we are unacquainted with, seldom is able to counterbalance airy uneasiness, either of pain or desire , which is present. For its greatness being no more than what. shall be really tasted when enjoyed, men are apt enough to lesseu that, to make it give place to any present desire ; and conclude with themselves, that when it comes to trial, it may possibly not answer the report or opinion that generally passes of it ; they having often found, that not only what others have magnified, but even what they themselves have enjoyed with great pleasure and delight at one time, has proved insipid or nauseous at another; and therefore they see nothing in it for which they should forego a present enjoyment. But that this is a false way of judging, when applied to the happiness of another life, they must confess ; unless they will say, " Cod cannot make those happy he designs to be so.'1 For that being intended for a state of happiness, it roust certainly be agreeable i<< every one's wish pnd desire : could CH. XXI.] OF POWER. 25i wo suppose their relishes as different there, as they are here, yet the manna in heaven -will suit every one's palate. Thus much of the wrong judgment we make of present and future pleasure and plain, when they are compared together, and so the absent considered as future. § 66. in considering consequences of actions. II. As to things good or bad in their consequences, and by the aptness is in them to procure us good or evil in the future, we judge amiss several ways. 1. When we judge that so much evil does not really depend on them, as in truth there does. 2. When we judge, that though the consequence be of that mo- ment, yet it is not of that certainty but that it may otherwise fall out, or else by some means be avoided, as by industry, address, change, repentance, &c. That these are. wrong ways of judging, were easy to show in every particular, if 1 would examine them at large singly : but I shall only mention this in general, viz. that it is a very wrong and irrational way of proceeding, to venture a greater good for a less, upon uncertain guesses, and before a due examination be made proportionable to the wcightiness of the matter, and the concernment it is to us not to mistake. This, ! think, every pne must confess, especially if he considers the usual causes of this wrong judgment, whereof these following are some : § C7. CAUSES OF THIS. I. Ignorance : he that judges without informing himself to the utmost that he is capable, cannot acquit himself of judging amiss; II. Inadvertency : when a man overlooks even that which he does know. This is an affected and present ignorance, which misleads our judgments as much as the other. Judging is, as it were, balancing an account, and determining on which side the odds lie. If therefore either side be huddled up in haste, and several of the sums, that should have gone into the reckoning, be overlooked and left out, this precipitancy causes as wrong a judgment as if it were a perfect ignorance. That which most commonly causes this is the prevalency of some present pleasure or pain, heightened by our feeble passionate nature, most strongly wrought on by what is present. To check this precipitancy, our understanding and reason was given us, if we will make a right use of it, to search and see, and then judge thereupon. Without liberty, the understanding would be to no purpose : and without understanding, liberty (if it could be) would signify nothing. If a man sees what would do him good or harm, what would make him happy or miserable, without being able to move himself one step towards or from it, what is he the better for seeing ? And )h> that is a* liberty to ramble in perfect darkness, what is his i'o~ OF POWER. [BOOK II. liberty better than if lie were driven up and down as a bubble by the force of the wind ? The being acted by a blind impulse from without, or from within, is little odds. The first therefore, and great use of liberty, is to hinder blind precipitancy ; the principal exercise of freedom is to stand still, open the eyes, look about, and take a view of the consequence of what we are going to do, as much as the weight of the matter requires. How much sloth and negligence, heat and passion, the prevalency of fashion, or acquired indispositions, do severally contribute on occasion to these wrong judgments, I shall not here farther inquire. I shall only add one other false judgment, which 1 think necessary to mention, because, perhaps it is little taken notice of, though of great influence. § 68. WRONG JUDGMENT OF WHAT IS NECESSARY TO OUR HAPPINESS. All men desire happiness, that is past doubt ; but, as has been already observed, when they are rid of pain, they are apt to take up with any pleasure at hand, or that custom has endeared to them, to rest satisfied in that ; and so being happy, tiil some new desire, by making them uneasy, disturbs that happiness, and shows them that they are not so, they look no farther ; nor is the will determined to any action, in pursuit of any other known or apparent good. For since we find, that we cannot enjoy all sorts of good, but one excludes another, we do not fix our desires on every apparent greater good, unless it be judged to be necessary to our happiness ; if we think we can be happy without it, it moves us not. This is another occasion to men of judging wrong, when they take not that to be necessary to their happiness which really is so. This mistake misleads us both in the choice of the good we aim at, and very often in the means to it, when it is a remote good : but which way ever it be, either by placing it where really it is not, or by neglecting the means as not necessary to it; when a man misses his great end, happiness, he will acknow- ledge he judged not right. . That which contributes to this mis- take, is the real or supposed unpleasantness of the actions which are the way to this end ; it seeming so preposterous a thing to men to make themselves unhappy in order to happiness', thai they do not easily bring themselves to it. <$ 69. WE CAN CHANGE THE AGRJ5E'ABLENES3 OR JHSAGF.EEABLENESS IN THINGS. The last inquiry therefore concerning this matter is, " whether it be in a man's power to change the pleasantness and unpleasant- ness that accompanies any sort of action ?" And as to that, it is plain in many cases he can. Men may and should correct their palates, and give relish to what either has, or they suppose has none. The relish of the mind is as various as that of the body, and like that too may be altered ; and it is a mistake to think. thai men cannot change the displeasingness or indifference thai CH. XXI.] OF POWER. is in actions into pleasure and desire, if they will do but what is in their power. A due consideration will do in some cases ; and practice, application, and custom in most. Bread or tobacco may be neglected, where they are shown to be useful to health, because of an indill'erency or disrelish to them : reason and consideration at first recommend, and begin their trial, and use finds or custom makes them pleasant. That this is so in virtue too is very cer- tain. Actions ape pleasing or displeasing, either in themselves, or considered as a means to a greater and more desirable end. The eating of a well-seasoned dish, suited to a man's palate, may move the mind by the delight itself that accompanies the rating, without reference to any other end : to which the consi- deration of the pleasure there is in health and strength, (to which that meat is subservient) may add a new gusto, able to make u^ swallow an ill-relished potion. In the latter of these, any action is rendered more or less pleasing only by the contemplation of the end, and the being more or less persuaded of its tendency to it, or necessary connexion with it : but the pleasure of the action itself is best acquired or increased by use and practice. Trials often reconcile us to that which at a distance we looked on with aversion, and by repetitions wear us into a liking of what possibly, in the first essay, displeased us. Habits have powerful charms, and put so strong attractions of easiness and pleasure into what we accustom ourselves to, that we cannot forbear to do, or at least he easy in the omission of actions, which habitual practice has suited, and thereby recommends to us. Though this be very \ isr- ble, and <■'•• ery one's experience shows him he can do so ; yet it is a p;!it in the conduct of men towards their happiness, neglected to a degree, thai it will be possibly entertained as a paradox, if it he said, that men can make things or actions more or less pleasing 'to themselves; and thereby remedy that, to which one may justly impute a great deal of their wandering. Fashion and the com- mon opinion having settled wrong notions, and education and custom ill habits, the just values of things are misplaced, and the palates of men corrupted. Pains should be taken to rectify these ; and contrary habits change our pleasures, and give a relish to that which is necessary or conducive to our happiness. This every one mu>t confess he can do ; and when happiness-is lost, and misery overtakes him, he will confess he diet amiss in _ ctkkg it ; and condemn himself for it : and I ask every one. ther he has not often done so I § 70. PREFERENCE OF VICE TO VIRTUE A MANIFEST WRm .< JCD [shall not now enlarge any farther on the wrong judgments and neglect of what is in their power, whereby men mislead themselves. This would make a volume, and is not my business. But whatever fefee notions, or shameful neglect of what i^ in (heir power, may put men out of their way to happiness, and distract them, as we see, into so different courses of life, thi? Q54 OP POWER. [book II. yet is certain, that morality, established upon its true founda- tions, cannot but determine the choice in any one that will but consider : and he that will not be so far a rational creature as to reflect seriously upon infinite happiness and misery, must needs condemn himself as not making thai use of his understand- ing he should. The rewards and punishments of another life, which the Almighty has established as the enforcements of his law, are of weight enough to determine the choice, against what- ever pleasure or pain this life can show, when the eternal state is considered but in its bare possibility, which nobody can make any doubt of. He that will allow exquisite and endless happi- ness to be but the possible consequence of a good life here, and the contrary state the possible reward of a bad one, must own himself to judge very much amiss if he does not conclude, that a virtuous life, with the certain expectation of everlasting bliss, which may come, is to be preferred to a vicious one, with the fear of that dreadful state of misery, which it is very possible jnay overtake the guilty ; or at best the terrible uncertain hope of annihilation. This is evidently so, though the virtuous lift- here had nothing but pain, and the vicious continual pleasure : which yet is, for the most part, quite otherwise, and wicked men have not much the odds to brag of, even in their present posses- sion ; nay, all things rightly considered, have, I think, even the worst part here. But when infinite happiness is put into one scale against infinite misery in the other, if the worst that comes to the pious man, if he mistakes, be the best that the wicked can attain to, if he be in the right, who can without madness run the venture? Who in his wits would choose to come within a pos- sibility of infinite misery, which if he miss, there is yet nothing to be got by that hazard ? Whereas, on the other side, the sober man ventures nothing against infinite happiness to be got, if his expectation comes to pass. If the good man be in the right, he is eternally happy ; if he mistakes, he is not miserable ; he feels nothing. On the other side, if the wicked be in the right, he is not happy ; if he mistakes, he is infinitely miserable. Must it not be a most manifest wrong judgment that does not presently see to which side, in this case, the preference is to be given ? I have forborne to mention any thing of the certainty or proba- bility of a future state, designing here to show the wrong judg- ment that any one must allow he makes upon his own principles, laid how he pleases, who prefers the short pleasures of a vicious }ife upon any consideration, whilst he knows, and cannot but be certain, that a future life is at least possible. §71. RECAPITULATION. To conclude this inquiry into human liberty, which, as it stood before, I myself from the beginning fearing, and a very judicious friend of mine, since the publication, suspecting to have souk; mistake in it, though he could no! particularly show it me. 1 was ( H. XXI.] OP low it: put upon a stricter review oi this chapter; \\ herein lighting upon a very easy and scarce observable slip I had made, in putting one seemingly indiflerei t word for another, thafcdiscovery op~en< d 10 me this present view, which here, in this second edition, i submit to the learned world, and which in short is this : u Liberty is a power to act or not to act, acccording as the mind directs." A power to direct the operative faculties to motion or rest in particular instances, is that which we call the will. Thai which in the train of our voluntary actions determines the arill to any change of operation, is some present uneasiness ; which is, or at least is always accompanied with, that of desire. Desire : is always moved by evil, to fly it 5 because a total freedom from pain always makes a necessary part of our happiness : !>1 every good, nay, every greater good, does not constantly move desire, because it may not make, or may not be taken to make, any necessary part of our happiness : for all that we desire is only to be happy, liut though this general desire of happiness operates constantly and invariably, yet the satisfaction of air, particular desire can be suspended from determining the will to any subservient action till we have maturely examined, whether the particular apparent good, which we then desire, makes a part of our real happiness, or be consistent or inconsistent with it. The result of our judgment upon that examination is what ulti- mately determines the man, who could not be free if his will were determined by any thing but his own desire guided by his own judgment. I know that liberty by some is placed in an indillerency of the man, antecedent to the determination of his will. I wish they, who lay so much stress on such an antecedent indifferency, as they call it, had told us plainly, whether this supposed indiilercncy he antecedent to the thought and judg- ment of the understanding, as well as to the decree of the will. For it is pretty hard to state it between them ; i. c. immediately after the judgment of the understanding, and before the determi- nation of the will, because the determination of the will imn ately follows the judgment of the understanding: and to place liberty in an indiiierency, antecedent to the thought and judg- ment of the understanding, seems to me to place liberty in a state of darkness, wherein we can neither see nor say any thing of it ; at least it places it in a subject incapable of it, no agent being allowed capable of liberty but in consequence of thought and judgment. I am not nice about phrases, and therefore consent to say, with those that love to speak so, that liberty is placed in indilierency ; but it is an indifferency which remains after the judgment of the understanding, yea, even after (lie determination of the will : and that is an indifferency not of the man (for after lie has once judged which is best, viz. to do or forbear, he is no longer indifferent,) but an indifferency of the operative powers of the man, which, remaining equally able to operate or to for- bear operating after aarbefore the decree of the will, are in a 2i>\i 9F POWERi [i!jO,{ tl, slate which, ii one pleases, may be called indillerency ; and as far as this indfflferency reaches, a man is free, and no farther : v. g. I have the ability to move my hand, or to let it rest, that operative power is indifferent to move, or not to move my hand : 1 am then in that respect perfectly free. My will determines that operative power to rest, I am yet free, because the indiffer- ency of that my operative power to act, or not to act, still remains ; the power of moving my hand is not at all impaired by the determination of my will, which at present orders rest ; the indifferency of that power to act, or not to act, is just as it w-as before, as will appear, if the will puts it to the trial, by ordering the contrary. But if during the rest of my hand it be seized by a sudden palsy, the indifferency of that operative power is gone, and with it my liberty ; 1 have no longer freedom in thai respect, but am under a necessity of letting my hand rest. On the other side, if my hand be put into motion by a convul- sion, the indifferency of that operative faculty is taken away by that motion, and my liberty in that case is lost : for I am under a necessity of having my hand move. I have added this to show in what sort of indifferency liberty seems to me to consist, and not in any other, real or imaginary. §72. True notions concerning the nature and extent of liberty arc of so great importance, that I hope I shall be pardoned this digression, which my attempt to explain it has led me into. The idea of will, volition, liberty, and necessity, in this chapter of power, came naturally in my way. In a former edition of this treatise 1 gave an account of my thoughts concerning them, according to the light I then had : and now, as a lover of truth, and not a worshipper of my own doctrines, I OAvn some change of my opinion, which 1 think I have discovered ground for. In what 1 first writ, I writh an unbiassed indifferency followed truth, whither I thought she led me. But neither being so vain as to fancy infallibility, nor so disingenuous as to dissemble my mis- takes for fear of blemishing my reputation, I have, with the same sincere design for truth only, not been ashamed to publish what a severer inquiry has suggested. It is not impossible but that some may think my former notions right, and some (as I have already found) these latter, and some neither. 1 shall not at all wronder at this variety in men's opinions ; impartial deductions of reason in controverted points being so rare, and exact ones in abstract notions not so very easy, especially if of any length. And therefore I should think myself not a little beholden to any one, who would upon these, or any other grounds, fairly clear this subject of liberty from any difficulties that may yet remain. Before I close this chapter, it may perhaps be to our purpose, and help to give us clearer conceptions about power, if we make our thoughts take a little more exact survey of action. I ha1 1 ch. xxi.. I ofpov^KKj i.y, said above,^that we have ideas hut of two sorts of action, viz. motion and. thinking. These, in truth, though called and counted actions, yet, if nearly considered, will not be found to be always perfectly so. For, if I mistake not, there are in- stances of both kinds, which, upon due consideration, will be found rather passions than actions, and consequently so far the effects barely of passive powers in those subjects, which yet on their accounts are thought agents. For in these instances, the substance that has motion or thought receives the impression, where it is put into that action purely from without, and so acts merely by the capacity it has to receive such an impression from some external agent : and such a power is not properly an active power, but a mere passive capacity in the subject. Sometimes the substance or agent puts itself into action by its own power, and this is properly active power. Whatsoever modification a substance has, whereby it produces any effect, that is called action : v. g. a solid substance by motion operates on or alters the sensible ideas of another substance, and therefore this modi- fication of motion we call action. But yet this motion in that solid substance is, when rightly considered, but a passion, if it received it only from some external agent. So that the active power of motion is in no substance which cannot begin motion in itself, or in another substance, when at rest. So likewise in thinking, a power to receive ideas or thoughts, from the opera- tion of any external substance, is called a power of thinking : but this is but a passive power, or capacity. But to be able to hring into view ideas out of sight at one's own choice, and to compare which of them one thinks fit, this is an active power. This reflection may be of some use to preserve us from mistakes about powers and actions, which grammar and the common frame of languages may be apt to lead us into ; since what is signified by verbs that grammarians call active, does not always signify action : v. g. this proposition, 1 see the moon, or a star. or I feel the heat of the sun, though expressed by a verb active, does not signify any action in me, whereby I operate on those substances; but the reception of the ideas of light, roundness, and heat, wherein I am not active, but barely passive, and cannot in that position of my eyes or body avoid receiving them. But when I turn my eyes another way, or remove my body out of the sunbeams, I am properly active, because of my own choice, by a power within myself, I put myself into that motion. Such an action is the product of active power. §73. And thus I have, in a short draught, given a view of our original ideas, from whence all the rest are derived, and of which they are made up; which if I would consider as a philosopher, and examine on what causes they depend, and of what they are made, 1 believe thr-v all might be reduced fo these very fev Vor.. I. 258 OF POWER, [book II. primary and original ones, viz. extension, solidity, mobility, or the power of being moved, which by our senses we receive from body; perceptivity, or the power of perception or thinking : mo- tivity, or the power of moving ; which by reflection we receive from our minds. I crave leave to make use of these two new words, to avoid the danger of being mistaken in the use of those which are equivocal. To which if we add existence, duration, number, — which belong both to the one and the other, — we have, perhaps, all the original ideas, on which the rest depend. For by these, I imagine, might be explained the nature of colours, sounds, tastes, smells, and all other ideas we have, if we had but faculties acute enough to perceive the severally modified exten- sions and motions of these minute bodies, which produce those several sensations in us. But my present purpose being only to inquire into the knowledge the mind has of things, by those ideas and appearances which God has fitted it to receive from them, and how the mind comes by that knowledge, rather than into their causes or manner of production ; I shall not, contrary to the design of this essay, set myself to inquire philosophically into the peculiar constitution' of bodies, and the configuration of parts, whereby they have the power to produce in us the ideas of their sensible qualities : I shall not enter any farther into that disquisi- tion, it sufficing to my purpose to observe, that gold or saffron has a power to produce in us the idea of -yellow, and snow or milk the idea of white, which we can only have by our sight, without examining the texture of the parts of those bodies, or the particu- lar figures or motion of the particles which rebound from them, to cause in us that particular sensation : though when we go be- yond the bare ideas in our minds, and would inquire into their causes, we cannot conceive any thing else to be in any sensible object, whereby it produces different ideas in us, but the different bulk, figure, number, texture, and motion of its insensible parts. 259 CHAPTER XXII. OF MIXED MODES. § 1. MIXED MODES, WHAT. Having treated of simple modes in the foregoing chapters, and given several instances of some of the most considerable of them to show what they are, and ho w we come by them, we are now in the next place to consider those we call mixed modes i such are the complex ideas we mark by the names obligation, drunkenness, a lie, &c. which consisting of several combinations of simple ideas of different kinds, I have called mixed modes, to distinguish them from the more simple modes, which consist only of simple ideas of the same kind. These mixed modes being also such combinations of simple ideas as are not looked upon to be characteristical marks of any real beings that have a steady existence, but scattered and independent ideas put together by the mind, are thereby distinguished from the complex ideas of substances. § 2. MADE BY THE MIND. That the mind, in respect of its simple ideas, is wholly passive, and receives them all from the existence and operations of things, such as sensation or reflection offers them, without being able to make any one idea, experience shows us : but if we attentively consider these ideas I call mixed modes, we are now speaking of, we shall find their original quite different. The mind often exercises an active power in making these several combinations : for it being once furnished with simple ideas, it can put them together in several compositions, and so make variety of complex ideas, without examining whether they exist so together in nature- And hence I think it is that these ideas are called notions, as if they had their original and constant existence more in the thoughts of men than in the reality of things : and to form such ideas, it sufficed that the mind puts the parts of them together, and that they were consistent in the understanding, without con- sidering whether they had any real being : though I do not deny, but several of them might be taken from observation, and the existence of several simple ideas so combined, as they are put together in the understanding. For the man who first framed the idea of hypocrisy might have either taken it at first from the obser- vation of one, who made show of good qualities which he had not, or else have framed that idea in his mind, without having any such pattern to fashion it by : for it i9 evident, that in the begin- ning of languages and societies of men, several of those com- plex ideas, which were consequent to the constitutions established among them, must needs have been in the minds of men, before they existed any where else : and that manv names that stood for ~t>0 OF MIXED MODES. [BOOK II. such complex ideas were in use, and so those ideas framed, before the combinations they stood for ever existed. 6 3. SOMETIMES GOT BY THE EXPLICATION OF THEIR NAMES. Indeed, now that languages are made, and abound with words standing for such combinations, a usual way of getting these com- plex ideas is by the explication of those terms that stand for them : for consisting of a company of simple ideas combined, they may by words,standing for those simple ideas, be represented to the mind of one who understands those words, though that complex combination of simple ideas were never offered to his mind by the real existence of things. Thus a man may come to have the idea of sacrilege or murder, by enumerating to him the simple ideas which these words stand for, without ever seeing either ©f them committed. § 4. THE NAME TIES THE PA&TS OF MIXED MODES INTO ONE IDEA. Every mixed mode consisting of many distinct simple ideas, it seems reasonable to inquire, " whence it has its unity, and how such a precise multitude comes to make but one idea, since that combination does not always exist together in nature ?" To which I answer, it is plain it has its unity from an act of the mind com- bining those several simple ideas together, and considering them as one complex one, consisting of those parts ; and the mark of this union, or that whieh is looked on generally to complete it, is one name given to that combination. For it is by their names that men commonly regulate their account of their distinct species of mixed modes, seldom allowing or considering any number of simple ideas to make one complex one, but such collections as there be names for. Thus, though the killing of an old man be as lit in nature to be united into one complex idea as the killing a man's father : yet there being no name standing precisely for the one, as there is the name of parricide to mark the other, it is not taken for a particular complex idea, nor a distinct species of actions from that of killing a young man, or any other man. § 5. THE CAUSE OF MAKING MIXED MODES. if we should inquire a little farther, to see what it is that occa- sions men to make several combinations of simple ideas into distinct, and, as it were, settledmodes, and neglect others which. in the nature of things themselves, have as much an aptness to be combined and make distinct ideas, we shall find the reason of it to be the end of language ; which being to mark or communi- cate men's thoughts to one another with all the despatch that may be, they usually make such collections of ideas into complex modes, and affix names to them, as they have frequent use of in their way of living and conversation, leaving others, which they have but seldom an occasion to mention, loose and without names to tie tllem together ; they rather choosing to enumerate CII. XXII.] OF MIXED MODES. 261 (when they have need) such ideas as make them up, hy the par- ticular names that stand for them, than to trouble their memories by multiplying of complex ideas with names to them, which they seldom or never have any occasion to make use of. 6 6. WHY WORDS IN OUR LANGUAGE HAVE NONE ANSWERING IN ANOTHER. This shows us how it comes to pass, that there are in every language many particular words which cannot be rendered by any one single word of another. For the several fashions, customs, and manners of one nation, making several combinations of ideas familiar and necessary in one, which another people have had never any occasion to make, or perhaps so much as taken notice of; names come of course to be annexed to them, to avoid long periphrases in things of daily conversation, and so they become so many distinct complex ideas in their minds. Thus ir^xx,«rfa>i among the Greeks, and proscriptio among the Romans, were words which other languages had no names that exactly answered, because they stood for complex ideas, which were not in the minds of the men of other nations. Where there was no such custom, there was no notion of any such actions ; no use of such combinations of ideas as were united, and as it were tied together by those terms : and therefore in other countries there were no names for them. § 7. AND LANGUAGES CHANGE. Hence also we may see the reason why languages constantly change, take up new and lay by old terms ; because change of customs and opinions bringing with it new combinations of ideas, which it is necessary frequently to think on, and talk about, new names, to avoid long descriptions, are annexed to them, and so they become new species of complex modes. What a number of different ideas are by this means wrapt up in one short sound, and how much of our time and breath is thereby saved, any one will see, who will but take the pains to enumerate all the ideas that either reprieve or appeal stand for ; and instead of either of those names, use a periphrasis, to make any one understand their meaning. § 8. MIXED MODES, WHERE THEY EXIST. Though 1 shall have occasion to consider this more at large when I come to treat of words and their use, yet I could not avoid to take thus much notice here of the names of mixed modes ; which being fleeting and transient combinations of simple ideas, which have but a short existence any where but in the minds of men, and there too have no longer any existence than whilst they are thought on, have not so much any where the appearance of a constant and lasting existence as in their names: which are therefore, in this sort of ideas, very apt to be taken for the ideas themselves. For if we should inquire where the ide;. 262 OF MIXED MODEfc. [BOOK II, of a triumph or apotheosis exists, it is evident they could neither of them exist altogether any where in the things themselves, being actions that required time to their performance, and so could never all exist together: and as to the minds of men, where the ideas of these actions are supposed to be lodged, they have there too a very uncertain existence ; and there- fore we are apt to annex them to the names that excite them in us. § 9. HOW WE GET THE IDEAS OF MIXED MODES. There are therefore three ways whereby we get the complex ideas of mixed modes. 1 . By experience and observation of things themselves. Thus by seeing two men wrestle or fence, we get the idea of wrestling or fencing. 2. By invention, or voluntarily putting together of several simple ideas in our owri minds: so he that first invented printing or etching, had an idea of it in his mind before it ever existed. 3. Which is the most usual way, by explaining the names of actions we never saw, or notions we cannot see ; and by enumerating, and thereby as it were, setting before our imaginations all those ideas which go to the making them up, and are the constituent parts of them. For having by sensation and reflection stored our minds with simple ideas, and by use got the names that stand for them, we can by those means represent to another any complex idea we would have him conceive ; so that it has in it no simple ideas but what he knows and has with us the same name for. For all our complex ideas are ultimately resolvable into simple ideas, of which they are compounded and originally made up, though perhaps their immediate ingredients, as I may so say, are also complex ideas. Thus the mixed mode, which the word lie stands for, is made of these simple ideas : 1. Articulate sounds. 2. Certain ideas in the mind of the speaker. 3. Those words the signs of those ideas. 4. Those signs put together by affirmation or negation, otherwise than the ideas they stand for are in the mind of the speaker. I think I need not go any farther in the analysis of that complex idea we call a lie : what 1 have said is enough to show, that it is made up of simple ideas ; and it could not be but an offensive tediousness to my reader, to trouble him with a more minute enumeration of every particular simple idea that goes to this complex one ; which, from what has been said, he cannot but be able to make out to himself. The same may be done in all our complex ideas whatsoever; which, however com- pounded and decompounded, may at last be resolved into simple ideas, which are all the materials of knowledge or thought we have, or can have. Nor shall we have reason to fear that the mind is hereby stinted to too scanty a number of ideas, if we consider what an inexhaustible stock of simple modes, number and figure alone afford us. How far then mixed modes which admit of the various combinations of different simple ideas, and CH. XXII. "j OK MIXED MODES. 2b\J their infinite modes, are from being few and scanty, we may easily imagine. So that before we have done, we shall see that nobody need be afraid he shall not have scope and compass enough for his thoughts to range in, though they be, as I pretend, confined only to simple ideas received from sensation or reflec- tion, and their several combinations. § 10. MOTION, THINKING, AND POWER, HAVE BEEN MOST MODIFIED. It is worth our observing, which of all our simple ideas have been most modified, and had most mixed ideas made out of them, with names given to them ; and those have been these three ; thinking and motion, (which are the two ideas which comprehend in them all action) and power, from whence these actions are conceived to flow. The simple ideas, I say, of thinking, motion, and power, have been those which have been most modified, and out of whose modifications have been made most complex modes with names to them. For action being the great business of mankind, and the whole matter about which all laws are con- versant, it is no wonder that the several modes of thinking and motion should be taken notice of, the ideas of them observed, and laid up in the memory, and have names assigned to them; without which, laws could be but ill made, or vice and disorder repressed. Nor could any communication be well had among men, without such complex ideas, with names to them ; and therefore men have settled names, and supposed settled ideas in their minds, of modes of action distinguished by their causes, means, objects, ends, instruments, time, place, and other circum- stances, and also of their powers fitted for those actions : v. g. boldness is the power to speak or do what we intend, before others, without fear or disorder; and the Greeks call the confi- dence of speaking by a peculiar name, 5r*/5^V'« : which power or ability in man, of doing any thing, when it has been acquired by frequent doing the same thing, is that idea we name habit ; when it is forward, and ready upon every occasion to break into action, we call it disposition. Thus, testiness is a disposition or aptness to be angry. To conclude : Let us examine any modes of action, v.g. con- sideration and assent, which are actions of the mind ; running and speaking, which are actions of the body ; revenge and mur- der, which are actions of both together ; and we shall find them but so many collections of simple ideas, which together make up the complex ones signified by those names. 4 11. SEVERAL WORDS SEEMING TO SIGNIFY ACTION, SIGNIFY BUT THE EFFECT. Power being the source from whence all action proceeds, the substances wherein these powers are, when they exert this power into act, are called causes ; and the substances which thereupon are produred. or the simple ideas which are intro- 264 OF MIXED MODES. [BOOK II, duced into any subject by the exerting of that power, are called effects. The efficacy whereby the new substance or idea is produced, is called, in the subject exerting that power, action ; but in the subject wherein any simple idea is changed or pro- duced, it is called passion : which efficacy, however various, and the effects almost infinite, yet we can, I think, conceive it, in intellectual agents, to be nothing else but modes of thinking and willing ; in corporeal agents, nothing else but modifications of motion. I say, I think we cannot conceive it to be any other but these two : for whatever sort of action, besides these, produces any effects, 1 confess myself to have no notion or idea of; and so it is quite remote from my thoughts, apprehensions, and know- ledge ; and as much in the dark to me as five other senses, or as the ideas of colours to a blind man : and therefore many words, which seem to express some action, signify nothing of the action or modus operandi at all, but barely the effect, with some circum- stances of the subject wrought on, or cause operating; v . g. creation, annihilation, contain in them no idea of the action or manner whereby they are produced, but barely of the cause, and the thing done. And when a countryman says the cold freezes water, though the word freezing seems to import some action, yet truly it signifies nothing but the effect, viz. that water that was before fluid is become hard and consistent, without containing any idea of the action whereby it is done. § 12. MIXED MODES MADE ALSO OF OTHER IDEAS. I think I shall not need to remark here, that though power and action make the greatest part of mixed modes, marked by names, and familiar in the minds and mouths of men, yet other simple ideas and their several combinations are not excluded ; much less, I think, will it be necessary for me to enumerate all the mixed modes, which have been settled, with names to them. That would be to make a dictionary of the greatest part of the words made use of in divinity, ethics, law, and politics, and several other sciences. All that is requisite to my present design is, to show what sort of ideas those are which I call mixed modes, how the mind comes by them, and that they are compositions made up of simple ideas got from sensation and reflection : which I suppose I have done. 266 CHAPTER XXIII OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES § 1. IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES, HOW MADE. The mind being, as I have declared, furnished with a great number of the simple ideas, conveyed in by the senses, as they are found in exterior things, or by reflection on its own opera- tions, takes notice also, that a certain number of these simple ideas go constantly together ; which being presumed to belong to one thing, and words being suited to common apprehensions, and made use of for quick despatch, are called, so united in one subject, by one name ; which, by inadvertency, we are apt after- ward to talk of, and consider as one simple idea, which indeed is a complication of many ideas together : because, as I have said, not imagining how these simple ideas can subsist by them- selves, we accustom ourselves to suppose some substratum wherein they do subsist, and from which they do result, and which therefore we call substance. (1) (1) This section, which was intended only to show how the individuals of dis- tinct species of substances came to be looked upon as simple ideas, and so to have simple names, viz. from the supposed substratum or substance, which was looked upon as the thing itself in which inhered, and from which resulted that complication of ideas, by which it was represented to us, hath been mistake-, for an account of the idea of substance in general ; and as such, hath been re- presented in these words; But how comes the general idea of substance to bo. framed in our minds? Is this by abstracting and enlarging simple ideas ? Nq_: But " it is by a complication of many simple ideas fogeKier : because not ima- gining how these simple ideas can subsist by themselves, we accustom ourselves to suppose some substratum wherein they do subsist, and from whence they d<> result ; which therefore we call substance." And is this all, indeed, that is to b< said for the being of substance, That we accustom ourselves to suppose a substrh - turn? Is that custom grounded upon true reason, or not f If not, then accidents 01 modes must subsist of themselves ; and these simple ideas need no tortoise to support them ; for figures and colours, Sec. would do well enough of themselves, but for some fancies men have accustomed themselves to. To which objeetiou of the bishop of Worcester, our author0 answers thus - Herein your lordahjp seems to charge me with two faults : one, That I make the general idea of substance to be framed not by abstracting and enlarging simple ideas, but by a complication of many simple ideas together : the other, as if 1 had i, the being of substance had no other foundation but the fancies of men. As to the first of these, I beg leave to remind your lordship, that I say in more places than one, and particularly Book S. Chap. 3. 5 6. and Book 1. Chap. 1 ] . j 9. where, ex professo, I treat of abstraction and general ideas, that they are all made bj abstracting, and therefore could not be understood to mean, that that of substance. was made any other way ; however my pen might have slipt, or the negligence ..essiou, where I might have something else than the general idea of Mil stance in view, might make me seem to say so. That 1 was not speaking of the general idea of substance in the passage yom lordship quotes, is manifest from the title of that chapter, which is. Of the com- plex ideas of substances ; and the first section of it, which your lordship cites lb: I have set down. In whii h words 1 do not observe any that deny the general idea of substance t< h • made by abstracting, nor any that say it ia nmdc by a complication of man; a rnhi ,,. ii, , i - T 34 266 OCR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. [BOOK II. § 2. OUR IDEA OF SUBSTANCE IN GENERAL. So that if any one will examine himself concerning his notion of pure substance in general, he will find he has no other idea of it at all, but only a supposition of he knows not what support of such qualities, which are capable of producing- simple ideas in us ; which qualities are commonly called accidents. If any one should be asked, What is the subject wherein colour or weight inheres? he. would have nothing to say, but the solid extended simple ideas together. But speaking in that place of the ideas of distinct sub' stances, such as man, horse, gold, &c. I say they are made up of certain combi- nations of simple ideas, which combinations are looked upon, each of them, as one simple idea, though they are many ; and we call it by one name of substance, rhough made up of modes, from the custom of supposing a substratum, wherein that combination does subsist. So that in this paragraph I only give an account «tf the idea of distinct substances, such as oak, elephant, iron, &c. how, though they are made up of distinct complications of modes, yet they are looked on as one idea, called by one name, as making distinct sorts of substance. But that my notion of substance in general is quite different from these, and has no such combination of simple ideas in it, is evident from the immediate fol- lowing words, where I say, &" The idea of pure substance in general is only a supposition of we know not what support of such qualities as are capable of pro- ducing simple ideas in us." And these two I plainly distinguish all along, par- ticularly where I say, a whatever therefore be the secret and abstract nature of substance in general, all the ideas we have of particular distinct substances, are nothing but several combinations of simple ideas, coexisting in such, though un- known cause of their union, as makes the whole subsist of itself." The other thing laid to my charge, is, as if I took the being of substance to be doubtful, or rendered it so by the imperfect and ill-grounded idea I have given of it. To which I beg leave to say, that I ground not the being, but the idea of substance, on our accustoming ourselves to suppose some substratum ; for it is of the idea alone I speak there, and not of the being of substance. And having every where affirmed, and built upon it, that a man is a substance, I cannot be supposed to question or doubt of the being of substance, till I can question or doubt of my own being. Farther, I say, c " Sensation convinces us, that there arc solid, extended substances ; and reflection, that there are thinking ones." So that, I think, the being of substance is not shaken by what I have said : and n the idea of it should be, yet (the being of things depending not on our ideas) the being of substance would not be at all shaken by my saying, we had but an ob- scure imperfect idea of it, and that that idea came from our accustoming our- selves to suppose some substratum : or indeed, if I should say, we had no idea of substance at all. For a great many things may be, and are granted to have a being, and be in nature, of which we have no ideas. For example : it cannot be doubted but there are distinct species of separate spirits, of which yet we have no distinct ideas at all : it cannot be questioned but spirits have ways of communi- cating their thoughts, and yet we have no idea of it at all. The being then of substance being safe and secure, notwithstanding any thiu^ I have said, let us see whether the idea of it be not so too. Your lordship asks, with concern, and is this all, indeed, that is to be said for the being (if your lord- ship please, let it be the idea) of substance, that we accustom ourselves to sup- pose a substratum ? Is that custom grounded upon true reason or no? 1 have said that it is grounded upon this, <*" That we cannot conceive how simple ideas of sensible qualities should subsist alone ; and therefore we suppose them to exist in, and to be supported by some common subject ; which support we denote by the name substance." Which, I think, i3 a true reason, because it is the same vour lordship grounds the supposition of a substratum on, in this very page ; even on i he repugnancy to our conceptions, that modes and accidents should subsist by themselves. So that 1 have the good luck to agree here with your lordship : an. J. '■onscquently conclude, I have your approbation in this, that the substratum tp modes or accidents, which is our idea of substance in general, is founded in this'. . i.Yc cannot . Sec. 29 CHAP. XXIII.] OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANC i lO" parts : and if he were demanded, What is that solidity and extension inhere in ? he would not be in a much better case than the Indian before mentioned, who, saying that the world was supported by a great elephant, was asked what the elephant rested on ? To which his answer was, A great tortoise. But being again pressed to know what gave support to the broad- backed tortoise, replied, Something, he knew not what. And thus here, as in all other cases where we use words without, having clear and distinct ideas, we talk like children ; who being questioned what such a thing is, which they know not, readily give this satisfactory answer, That it is something : which, in truth, signifies no more, when so used either by children or men, but that they know not what ; and that the thing they pretend to know and talk of, is what they have no distinct idea of at all, and so are perfectly ignorant of it, and in the dark. The idea, then, we have, to which we give the general name substance, being nothing but the supposed, but unknown support of those qualities we find existing, which we imagine cannot subsist sine re substante, without something to support them, we call that support substantia ; which, according to the true import of the word, is, in plain English, standing under, or upholding. (1) (1) From this paragraph, there hath been raised an objection by the bishop of Worcester, as if our author's doctrine here concerning ideas had almost discard- ed substance out of the world : his words in this paragraph, being brought to prove, that he is one of the gentlemen of this new way of reasoning, that have almost discarded substance out of the reasonable part of the world. To which our author replies, e This, my lord, is an accusation, which your lordship will pardon me, if I do not readily know what to plead to, because 1 do not under- stand what it is almost to discard substance out of the reasonable part of tin- world. If your lordship means by it, that I deny, or doubt, that there is in the world any such thing as substance, that your lordship will acquit me of, when your lordship looks again into this 23d chapter of the second book, which you have cited more than once ; where you will find these words. § 4. " When we talk or think of any particular sort of corporeal substances, as horse, stone, &.-. though the idea we have of either of them, be but the complication or collection of those several simple ideas of sensible cptalitics, which we use to find united Lij the thing called horse or stone ; yet because we cannot conceive how they should subsist alone, nor one in another, we suppose them existing in, and supported by some common subject, which support wc denote by the name substance ; though it is certain, we have no clear or distinct idea of that thing we suppose a support.'" And again, § 5. " The same happens concerning the operations of the mind, viz. thinking, reasoning, fearing, &o. which we considering not to subsist of them- selves, nor apprehending how they can belong to body, or be produced by i:. -.-.re apt to think these the actions of some other substance, which we call spirit ; whereby yet it is evident, that having no other idea or notion of matter, but sobm - tiling wherein those many sensible qualities, which affect our senses, do subsist, by supposing a substance, wherein thinking, knowing, doubting, and a power oi moving, &c. do subsist, we have as clear a notion of the nature or substance ot spirit, as we have of body ; the one being supposed to be (without knowing what it is) the substratum to those simple ideas we have from without : and the other supposed (with a like ignorance oi what it is) to be the substratum to those ope- rations, which we experiment h> ourselves within." And again, j «5. '.'Whatever therefore be the secret nature of substance in general, all the, ideas we have oi' liar flistinct substances, are nothing but several combittations of simp!*- e In hi' first 'ottor In tbat bishop. !j68 OUK. IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. [BOOK II. § 3. OF THE SORTS OF SUBSTANCE!?. An obscure and relative idea of substance in general being thus made, we come to have the ideas of particular sorts of substan- ces, by collecting such combinations of simple ideas, as are, by ideas, coexisting in such, though unknown cause of their union, as makes the whole subsist of itself." And I farther say in the same section, "that we sup- pose these combinations to rest in, and to be adherent to that unknown common subject, -which inheres not in anything else." And § 3. " That our complex ideas of substances, besides all those simple ideas they are made up of, have always the confused idea of something to which they belong, and in which they bubsist ; and therefore, when we speak of any sort of substance, we say it is a thing having such and such qualities ; as body is a thing that is extended, figured, and capable of motion ; spirit, a thing capable of thinking. " These, and the like fashions of speaking intimate, that the substance is sup- posed always something besides the extension, figure, solidity, motion, thinking, p> other observable idea, though we know not what it is." " Our idea of body, I say, /is an extended, solid substance ; and our idea of soul, is of a substance that thinks." So that as long as there is any such thing as body o* spirit in the world, I have done nothing towards the discarding substance out of the reasonable part of the world. Nay, as long as there is any simple idea or sen- sible quality left, according to my way of arguing, substance cannot be discarded ; because all simple ideas, all sensible qualities, carry with them a supposition of a substratum to exist in, and of a substance wherein they inhere : and of this that whole chapter is so full, that I challenge any one who reads it, to think I have almost, or one jot discarded substance out of the reasonable part of the world. And of this, man, horse, sun, water, iron, diamond, &c. which I have mentioned of distinct sorts of substances, will be my witnesses, as long as any such things remain in being ; of which I say, S " That the ideas of substances are such com- binations cf simple ideas as are taken to represent distinct particular things, sub- sisting by themselves, in which the supposed or confused idea of substance is always the first and chief." If, by almost discarding substance out of the reasonable part of the world, your lordship means, that I have destroyed, and almost discarded the true idea we have *f it, by calling it a substratum, A a supposition of we know not what support of such qualities as are capable of producing simple ideas in us, an obscure and re- lative idea i * That without knowing what it is that which supports accidents ; se that of substance we have no idea of what it is, but only a confused, obscure <»ne of what it does : I must confess, this and the like I have said of our idea of e ubstance : and should be very glad to be convinced by your lordship, or any body t-lse, that I have spoken too meanly of it. He that would show me a more clear and distinct idea of substance, would do me a kindness I should thank him for. But this is the best I can hitherto find, either in my own thoughts, or in the books of logicians: for their account or idea of it is that it is ens, or, res per ss subsistens, c> substdns aceidentibus ; which in eiFect is no more, but that substance is a being or thing ; or, in short, something, they know not what, or of which they have no clearer idea, than that it is something which supports accidents, or other simple ideas or modes, and is not supported itself, as a mode, or an accident. So that 1 do not see but Burgersdicius, Sanderson, and the whole tribe of logicians, must be reckoned with the gentlemen of this new way of reasoning, who have almost discarded substance out of the reasonable part of the world. But supposing, my lord, that I, or these gentlemen, logicians of note in the school, Should own that we have a very imperfect, obscure, inadequate idea of substance, would it not be a little too hard to charge us with discarding substance out of the world ? For what almost discarding, and reasonable part of the world, signifies, I must confess, I do not clearly comprehend : but let almost and reason- able part signify here what they will, for I dare say your lordship meant some- thing by them ; would not your lordship think you were a little hardly dealt with, if, for acknowledging yourself to have a very imperfect and inadequate >aof God, or of several other things, which in this very treatise you confess cr fB. 2. C. 23. Sec. 22. g M. 2. C. 12. Sec. 6. i B. 2. C. 23. Sec. i. Sec. 2. Sec ' C '3. Sec. 19. CHAP. XXIII.] OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 26f) experience and observation of men's senses, taken notice of to exist together, and are therefore supposed to flow from the par- ticular internal constitution, or unknown essence of that sub- stance. Thus we come to have the ideas of a man, horse, gold, water, &c. of which substances, whether any one has any other clear idea, farther than of certain simple ideas co-existing to- gether, I appeal to every one's own experience. It is the ordi- nary qualities observable in iron, or a diamond, put together, that make the true complex idea of those substances, which a understandings come short in, and cannot comprehend, you should be accused to be one of these gentlemen, that have almost discarded God, or those other myste- rious things, -whereof you contend we have very imperfect and inadequate idea.' ■, out of the reasonable world ? For I suppose your lordship means by almost dis- carding out of the reasonable world, something that is blamable, for it seemn not to be inserted for a commendation ; and yet I think he deserves no blame, who owns the having imperfect, inadequate, obscure ideas, where he has no better ■ however, if it be inferred from thence, that either he almost excludes those things out of being, or out of rational discourse, if that be meant by the reasonable world ; for the first of these will not hold, because the being of things in the world depends not on our ideas : the latter indeed is true in some degree, but it is no fault: for it is certain, that where we have imperfect, inadequate, confused, obscure ideas, we cannot discourse and reason about those things so well, fullv, and clearly, as if we had perfect, adequate, clear, and distinct ideas. Other objections are made against the following parts of this paragraph by that, reverend prelate, viz. The repetition of the story of the Indian philosopher, and the talking like children about substance : to which our author replies : Your lordship, I must own, with great reason, takes notice, that I paralleled more than once our idea of substance with the Indian philosopher's he-knew - not-what, which supported the tortoise, &c. This repetition is, I confess, a fault in exact writing: but I have acknowledged and excused it in these words in my preface : " I am not ignorant how little I herein consult my own reputation, when I knowingly let my essay go with a fault so apt to disgust the most judicious, who are always the nicest readers." And there farther add, " That I did not publish my essay for such great master.--. of knowledge as your lordship ; but fitted it to men of my own size, to whom re- petitions might be sometimes useful." It would not therefore have been beside your lordship's generosity (who were not intended to be provoked by this repeti- tion) to have passed by such a fault as this, in one who pretends not beyond the lower rank of writers. But I see your lordship would have me exact, and with- out any faults ; and I wish I could be so, the better to deserve your lordship's approbation. My saying, " That when we talk of substance, we talk like children ; who being asked a question about something which they know not, readily °-ivc this satisfactory answer, That it is something ;" your lordship seems mightily to lav to heart in these words that follow : " If this be the truth of the case"5, we must still talk like children, and I know not how it can be remedied. For if we cannot • ome at a rational idea of substance, we can have no principle of certainty to «o upon in this debate." If your lordship has any better and distincter idea of substance than mine is, whieh I have given an account of, your lordship is not at all concerned in what 1 have there said. But those whose idea, of substance, -whether a rational or not ra- tional idea, is like mine, something they know not what, must in that, with me, talk hke children, when they speak of something, tiiey know not what. For a philoso- pher that says, That which supports accidents, is something', he knows not what; and a countryman that says, the foundation oi the great church at Harlaem, is sup- ported by something, he knows not what; and a child that stands in the dark upon his mother's muff, and says he stands upon something, he knows not what. in this respect talk all three alike. But if the countryman knows, that the foun- f.i,.- 0hurc*h hf Harlaem U. supported i . ,i,,. houses abou< Bri« 270 OUR IDEAS OP SUBSTANCES. [BOOK II, smith or a jeweller commonly knows better than a philosopher ; who, whatever substantial forms he may talk of, has no other idea of those substances than what is framed by a collection of those simple ideas which are to be found in them : only we must take notice, that our complex ideas of substances, besides all those simple ideas they are made up of, have always the con- fused idea of something to which they belong, and in which they subsist. And therefore, when we speak of any sort of sub- stance, we say it is a thing having such or such qualities ; as tol are ; or by "ravel, as the houses about London are ; or by wooden piles, as the houses in Amsterdam are; it is plain, that then having a clear and distinct idea of the thin^ that supports the church, he does not talk of this matter as a child; nor will he of the support of accidents, when he has a clearer and more distinct idea of it, than that it is barely something. But as long as we think like children, in cases where our ideas are no clearer nor distincter than theirs, I agree with your lordship, that I know not how it can be remedied, but that we must talk like them. Farther the bishop asks, Whether there be no difference between the bare bein°- of a thing, and its subsistence by itself? To which our author answers, Yes k But what will that do to prove, that upon my principles, we can come to no certainty of reason, that there is any such thing as substance ? You seem by this question to conclude, that the idea of a thing that subsists by itself, is a clear and distinct idea of substance ; but I beg leave to ask, Is the idea of the manner of subsistence of a thing, the idea of the thing itself; If it be not, we may have a clear and distinct idea of the manner, and yet have none but a very obscure and confused one of the thing. For example ; I tell your lordship, that I know a thing that cannot subsist without a support, and 1 know another thing that does subsist without a support, and say no more of them ; can you, by having the clear and distinct ideas of having a support, and not having a support, say, that you have a clear and distinct idea of the thing that I know which has, and of the tiling that I know which has not a support ? If your lordship can, I beseech you to give me the clear and distinct ideas of these, which I only call by the general name, things that have or have not supports : for such there are, and such I shall •>ive your lordship clear and distinct ideas of, when you shall please to call upon me for them ; though I think your lordship will scarce find them by the general and confused idea of things, nor in the clearer and more distinct idea of having or not having a support. To show a blind man, that he has no clear and distinct idea of scarlet, I tell him, that his notion of it, that it is a thing or being, does not prove he has any clear or distinct idea of it ; but barely that he lakes it to be something, he knows not what— He replies, That he knows more than that, v. g. he knows that it sub- sists, or inheres in another thing : and is there no difference, says he, in your lord- ship's words, between the bare being of a thing, and its subsistence in another : Yes, say I to him, a great deal, they are very different ideas. But for all that, you have no clear and distinct idea of scarlet, nor such a one as I have, who see and know it. and have another kind of idea of it, besides that of inherence. Your lordship has the idea of subsisting by itself, and therefore you conclude, you have a clear and distinct idea of the thing that subsists by itself: which me- thinks, is all one, as if your countryman should say, he hath an idea of a cedar of Lebanon, that it is a tree of a nature to need no prop to lean on for its support : therefore he hath a clear and distinct idea of a cedar of Lebanon: which clear and distinct idea, when he comes to examine, is nothing but a general one of a tree, with which his indetermined idea of a cedar is confounded. Just so is the idea of substance ; which, however called clear and distinct, is confounded with the general indetermined idea of something. But suppose that the manner of subsisting hy itself gives us a clear and distinct idea of substance, how does that prove. That upon my principles we can come to no certainty of reason, that there is any such thing as substance in the world ? Which is the proposition to be proved. Jr Mr. Locke's third Idler. CHAP. XXIII.] OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 271 body is a thing that is extended, figured, and capable of motion ; spirit, a thing capable of thinking ; and so hardness, friability, and power to draw iron, we say, are qualities to be found in a loadstone. These, and the like fashions of speaking, intimate that the substance is supposed always something besides the extension, figure, solidity, motion, thinking, or other observable ideas, though we know not what it is. § 4. NO CLEAR IDEA OF SUBSTANCE IN GENERAL. Hence, when we talk or think of any particular sort of corpo- real substances, as horse, stone, &c. though the idea we have of either of them be but the complication or collection of those several simple ideas of sensible qualities, which we use to find united in the thing called horse or stone ; yet because we can- not conceive how they should subsist alone, nor one in another, we suppose them existing in, and supported by, some common subject ; which support we denote by the name substance, though it be certain we have no clear or distinct idea of that thing we sup- pose a support. § 5. AS CLEAR AN IDEA OF SPIRIT AS BODY. The same happens concerning the operations of the mind, viz. thinking, reasoning, fearing, &c. which we, concluding not to subsist of themselves, nor apprehending how they can belong- to body, or be produced by it, we are apt to think these the actions of some other substance, which we call spirit : whereby yet it is evident, that having no other idea or notion of matter, but something Avherein those many sensible qualities which affect our senses, do subsist ; by supposing a substance, wherein think- ing, knowing, doubting, and a power of moving, &c. do subsist, we have as clear a notion of the substance of spirit, as wc have oj body . the one being supposed to be (without knowing what it is) the substratum to those simple ideas we have from without ; and the other supposed (with a like ignorance of what it is) to be the substratum to those operations we experiment in ourselves within. It is plain, then, that the idea of corporeal substance m matter, is as remote from our conceptions and apprehensions, as that of spiritual substance or spirit : and therefore, from our not having any notion of the substance of spirit, we can no more conclude its non-existence, than we can, for the same reason, deny the existence of body; it being as rational to affirm there is no body, because we have no clear and distinct idea of the substance of matter, as to say there is no spirit, because we have no clear and distinct idea of the substance of a spirit. § G. OF THE SORTS OF SUBSTANTIAS. Whatever, therefore, be the secret abstract nature of substance in general, all the ideas r:c have, of particular distinct sorts of sub- stances are nothing but several combinations of simple ideas, • sting in such* though unknown, cau^e of their union, as \IHZ OUR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. [BOOK II. makes the whole subsist of itself. It is by such combinations of simple ideas, and nothing else, that we represent particular sorts of substances to ourselves ; such are the ideas we have of their several species in our minds ; and such only do we, by their specific names, signify to others, v. g. man, horsey sun, ivater, iron : upon hearing which words, every one who understands the language, frames in his mind a combination of those several simple ideas which he has usually observed, or fancied to exist together under that denomination ; all which he supposes to rest in, and be, as it were, adherent to, that unknown common sub- ject, which inheres not in any thing else. Though, in the mean time, it be manifest, and every one upon inquiry into his own thoughts will find, that he has no other idea of any substance v. g. let it be gold, horse, iron, man, vitriol, bread, but what he has barely of those sensible qualities which he supposes to inhere, with a supposition of such a substratum, as gives, as it were, a support to those qualities or simple ideas which he has observed to exist united together. Thus, the idea of the sun, what is it but an aggregate of those several simple ideas, bright, hot, roundish, having a constant regular motion, at a certain distance from us, and perhaps some other ? as he who thinks and discourses of the sun, has been more or less accurate in observing those sensible qualities, ideas, or properties, which are in that thing which he calls the sun. $ 7. POWER A GREAT TART OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUESTASTCE. For he has the perfectest idea of any of the particular sorts oi substances, who has gathered and put together most of those simple ideas which do exist in it, among which are to be reck- oned its active powers and passive capacities ; which, though not simple ideas, yet in this respect, for brevity's sake, may con- veniently enough be reckoned among them. Thus, the power of drawing iron is one of the ideas of the complex one of that substance we call a loadstone ; and a power to be so drawn, is a part of the complex one we call iron : which powers pass for inherent qualities in those subjects. Because every sub- stance, being as apt, by the powers we observe in it, to change some sensible qualities in other subjects, as it is to produce in us those simple ideas which we receive immediately from it, does, by those new sensible qualities introduced into other subjects, discover to us those powers, which do thereby mediately atTect our senses, as regularly as its sensible qualities do it immediately, v. g. we immediately, by our senses, perceive in fire its heat and colour : which are, if rightly considered, nothing but powers in it to produce those ideas in us ; we also, by our senses, perceive the colour and brittleness of charcoal, xvhereby wc come by the knowledge of another power in lire, which it has to change the colour and consistency ^f wood. By the former fir? immediately, by the latfer Rlf. XXIII.] OUR ilM:.\.-> Ul' SL fi:->XA.\( ; „'7J it mediately discovers to us these several qualities, which there* fore we look upon to be a part of the qualities of lire, and go make them a part of the complex idea of it. For all those powers that we take cognizance of, terminating only in the alte- ration of some sensible qualities in those subjects on which thev operate, and so making them exhibit to us new sensible ideas : therefore it is that I have reckoned these powers among the simple ideas, which make the complex ones of the sorts of sub- stances ; though these powers, considered in themselves, are truly complex ideas. And in this looser sense I crave leave to be understood, when I name any of these potentialities among the simple ideas, which we recollect in our minds, when we think of particular substances. For the powers that are severally in ihem are necessary to be considered, if we will have true distinct notions of the several sorts of substances. § 8. AND WHY. Nor are we to wonder, that powers make a great part of our complex ideas of substances ; since their secondary qualities are those, which in most of them serve principally to distinguish substances one from another, and commonly make a consider- able part of the complex idea of the several sorts of them. For our senses failing us in the discovery of the bulk, texture, and figure of the minute parts of bodies, on which their real consti- tutions and differences depend, we are fain to make use of their secondary qualities, as the characteristical notes and marks whereby to frame ideas of them in our minds, and distinguish them one from another. All which secondary qualities, as has been shown, are nothing but bare powers. For the colour and taste of opium are, as well as its soporific or anodyne virtues, mere powers depending on its primary qualities, whereby it is fitted to produce different operations on different parts of our bodies. § 9. THREE SORTS OF II.")'. AS MAKE OVA COMl'LKX ONES OV SUBSTANCES- The ideas that make our complex ones of corporeal substances are of these three sorts. First, the ideas of the primary quali- ties of things, which are discovered by our senses, and are in them even when we perceive them not; such are the bulk, figure, number, situation, and motion of the parts of bodies, which are really in them, whether we take notice of them or no. Secondly, the sensible secondary qualities, which depending on these, arc nothing but the powers those substances have to produce several ideas in us by our senses ; which ideas are not in the things them- selves, otherwise than as any thing is in its cause. Thirdly, the aptness we consider in any substance to give or receive such alterations of primary qualities, as that the substance so altered should produce in us different ideas from what it did before ; those are called active and passive powers ; all which powers, as Vol. 1\ 35 2?4 OUK 1DEA& OF SUBSTANCES. [BOOK il- i'ar as we have any notice or notion of them, terminate only in sensible simple ideas. For whatever alteration a loadstone has the power to make, in the minute particles of iron, we should have no notion of any power it had at all to operate on iron, did not its sensible motion discover it : and I doubt not but there are a thousand changes, that bodies we daily handle have a power to cause in one another, which we never suspect, because they never appear in sensible effects. v> 10. POWERS MAKE A GREAT PART OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUB- STANCES. Powers therefore justly make a great part of our complex ideas of substances. He that will examine his complex idea of gold will find several of its ideas that make it up to be only powers : as the power of being melted, but of not spending itself in the fire ; of being dissolved in uqxia regia ; are ideas as necessary to make up our complex idea of gold, as its colour and weight : which, if duly considered, are also nothing but different powers. For to speak truly, yellowness is not actually in gold; but is a power in gold to produce that idea in us by our eyes, when placed in a due light : and the heat which we cannot leave out of our ideas of the sun, is no more really in the sun, than the white colour it introduces into wax. These are both equally powers in the sun, operating, by the motion and figure of its sensible parts, so on a man, as to make him have the idea of heat ; and so on wax, as to make it capable to produce in a man the idea oi white. § 11. THE NOW SECONDARE J-.\.> OF M IISI'A.M Es and how these red globules would appear, it' glasses could be found that could yet magnify them a thousand or ten thousand time< more, is uncertain. § 12. OUR FACULTIES OF DISCOVERY SUITED TO OUR STAT.',. The infinitely wise contriver of us, and all things about us, hath fitted our senses, faculties, and organs to the conveniences of life, and the business we have to do here. We are able, by our senses, to know and distinguish things : and to examine them so far, as to apply them to our uses, and several ways to accom- modate the exigencies of this life. We have insight enough into their admirable contrivances and wonderful effects, to admire and magnify the wisdom, power; and goodness of their author. Such a knowledge as this, which is suited to our present condition, we want not faculties to attain. But it appears not, that God intended we should have a perfect, clear, and adequate know- ledge of them : that perhaps is not in the comprehension of any finite being. "We are furnished with faculties, (dull and weak as Ihey are) to discover enough in the creatures, to lead us to th# knowledge of the Creator, limd the knowledge of our duty ; and we are fitted well enough with abilities to provide for the conve- niencies of living : these are our business in this world. But were our senses altered, and made much quicker and acuter, the appearance and outward scheme of things would have quite another face to us ; and, I am apt to think, would be incon- sistent with our being, or at least well-being, in this part of the universe which we inhabit. lie that considers how little our constitution is able to bear a remove into parts of this air, not much higher than that we commonly breathe in. will have reason to be satisfied that in this globe of earth allotted for our mansion, the all-wise Architect has suited our organs, and the bodies that are to affect them, one to another. If our sense of hearing were but one thousand times quicker than it is, how would a perpetual noise distract us ! And we should in the quietest retirement be less able to sleep or meditate, than in the middle of a sea-fight. Nay$ if that most instructive of our senses, seeing, were in any man a thousand or an hundred thousand times more acute than it is by the best microscope, things several millions of times less than the smallest object of his sight now would then be visi- ble to his naked eyes, and so he would come nearer to the disco- very of the texture and motion of the minute parts of corporeal hings ; and in many of them, probably, get ideas of their internal constitutions. But then he would be in a quite different world from other people ; nothing would appear the same to him and others ; the visible ideas of every thing would be different. So that 1 doubt whether he and the rest of men could discourse con- cerning the objects of sight, or have any communication about colours, their appearances being so wholly different. And per- foape Buch a quickness and tenderness of sight could not. endure 27U :'H R IDEAS OF SI RSXANCE9. | BOOK II bright sunshine, or so much as open daylight : nor take in but a very Small part of any object at once, and that too only at a very near distance. And if by the help of such microscopical eyes (if I may so call them) a man could penetrate farther than ordi- nary into the secret composition and radical texture of bodies, he would not make any great advantage by the change, if such an acute sight would not serve to conduct him to the market and exchange ; if he could not see things he was to avoid at a conve- nient distance, nor distinguish things he had to do with by those sensible qualities others do. He that was sharp-sighted enough to see the configuration of the minute particles of the spring of a clock, and observe upon what peculiar structure and impulse its elastic motion depends, would no doubt discover something very admirable; but if eyes so framed could not view at once the hand and the characters of the hour-plate, and thereby at a dis- tance see what o'clock it was, their owner could not be much benefited by that acuteness ; which, whilst it discovered the secret contrivance of the parts of the machine, made him lose ids use. § 13. CONJECTURE ABQPT SPIRITS^ And here give me leave to propose an extravagant conjecture of mine, viz. that since we have some reason (if there be anv credit to be given to the report of things that our philosophy cannot account for) to imagine that spirits can assume to them- selves bodies of different bulk, figure, and conformation of parts : whether one great advantage some of them have over us may not lie in this, that they can so frame and shape to themselves organs of sensation or perception as to suit them to their present design, and the circumstances of the object they would consider. For how much would that man exceed all others in knowledge, who had but the faculty so to order the structure of his eyes, that one sense, as to make it capable of all the several degrees of vision which the assistance of glasses (casually at first lighted on) has taught us to conceive! What wonders would he discover, who could so fit his eyes to all sorts of objects, as to sec, when he pleased, the figure and motion of the minute particles in the blood, and other juices of animals, as distinctly as he does, at other times, the shape and motion of the animals themselves! 13ut to us, in our present state, unalterable organs so contrived as to discover the figure and motion of the minute parts of bodies, whereon depend those sensible qualities, we now observe in them, would perhaps be of no advantage. God has, no doubt, made them so as is best for us in our present condition. He hath fitted us for the neighbourhood of the bodies that surround us, and we have to do with : and though we cannot, by the faculties we have, attain to a perfect knowledge of things, yet they will serve us well enough for those ends above mentioned, which are our great concernment. 1 beg my reader's pardon for laying before hint . II. XXIII. j 01 It IDEAS OP SUBSTANCE* so wild a fancy, concerning the ways of perception in beings above us ; but how extravagant soever it be, I doubt whether we can imagine any thing about the knowledge of angels, but after this manner, some way or other in proportion to what we find and observe in ourselves. And though we cannot but allow, that the infinite power and wisdom of God may frame creatures with a thousand other faculties and ways of perceiving things without them than what we have, yet our thoughts can go no farther than our own ; so impossible it is for us to enlarge our very guesses beyond the ideas received from our own sensation and reflection. The supposition, at least, that angels dosometimes assume bodies, needs not startle us ; since some of the most ancient and most learned fathers of the church seemed to believe that they had bodies : and this is certain, that their state and v/ay of existence - h unknown to us. § 11. C0MTLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. But to return to the matter in hand, the ideas we have of sub- stances, and the ways we come by them, — 1 say, our specific jdeas of substances are nothing else but a collection of a certain j lumber of simple ideas, considered as united in one thing. These ideas of substances, though they are commonly simple apprehen- sions, and the names of them simple terms, yet in effect are complex and compounded. Thus the idea which an Englishman >ignihes by the name swan, is white colour, long neck, red beak, black legs, and whole feet, and all these of a certain size, with a power of swimming in the water, and making a certain kind of noise : and perhaps, to a man who has long observed this kind of birds, some other properties which all terminate in sensible iimple ideas, all united in one common subject. >[ 15. IDEA OF SPIRITUAL SUBSTANCES AS CLEAR. AS OF B0DILV SUBSTANCES. . Besides the complex ideas we have of material sensible sub- stances, of which 1 have last spoken, by the simple ideas we have taken from those operations of our own minds which we experi- ment daily in ourselves, as thinking, understanding, willing, knowing, and power of beginning motion, ~&c. coexisting in some substance ; we are able to frame the complex idea of an imma- terial spirit. And thus, by putting together the ideas of thinking, perceiving, liberty, and power of moving themselves and other 'hings, we have as clear a perception and notion of immaterial -uhstanccs as we have of material. For putting together the ideas of thinking and willing, or the power of moving or quieting corporeal motion, joined to substance, of which we have no distinct idea, we have the idea of an immaterial spirit : and by putting together the ideas of coherent solid parts, and a power of being moved, joined with substance, of which likewise we have no positive idea, we have the idea of matter. The one is as 278 OLR IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. [BOOK Li clear and distinct an idea as the other : the idea of thinking, and moving a body, being as clear and distinct ideas as the ideas ol extension, solidity, and being moved : for our idea of substance is equally obscure, or none at all in both ; it is but a supposed I know not what, to support those ideas we call accidents. It is for want of reflection that we are apt to think that our senses show us nothing but material things Every act of sensation, when duly considered, gives us an equal view of both parts ol nature, the corporeal and spiritual. For whilst I know, by seeing or hearing, &c. that there is some corporeal being without me, the object of that sensation ; I do more certainly know, that there is some spiritual being within me that sees and hears. This, I must be convinced, cannot be the action of bare insensi- ble matter ; nor ever could be, without an immaterial thinking being. 0 16. NO IDEA OF AESTRACT SUBSTANCE. By the complex idea of extended, figured, coloured, and all other sensible qualities, which is all that we know of it, we are as far from the idea of the substance of body as if we knew no- thing at all : nor after all the acquaintance and familiarity which we imagine we have with matter, and the many qualities men as- sure themselves they perceive and know in bodies, will it per- haps upon examination be found, that they have any more or clearer primary ideas belonging to body, than they have belonging to immaterial spirit. § 17. THE COHESION OF SOLID PARTS AND IMPULSE OF PRIMARY IDEAS OF BODY. The primary ideas we have peculiar to body, as contradistin- guished to spirit, are the cohesion of solid, and consequently separable, parts, and a power of communicating motion by im- pulse. These, 1 think, are the original ideas proper and pecu- liar to body; for figure is but the consequence of finite extension. § 13. THINKING AND MOTIVITY THE PRIMARY IDEAS OF SPIRIT. The ideas we have belonging and peculiar to spirit are think- ing and will, or a power of putting body into motion by thought, and, which is consequent to it, liberty. For as body cannot but communicate its motion by impulse to another body, which it meets with at rest ; so the mind can put bodies into motion, or forbear to do so, as it pleases. The ideas of existence, duration, and mobility, are common to them both. § 19. SPIRITS CAPABLE OF MOTION. There is no reason why it should be thought strange, that I make mobility belong to spirit : for having no other idea of mo- tion but change of distance with other beings that are considered as at rest. — and finding that spirits, as well as bodies, cannot '.II. XXIII. ] ui R IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 279 operate but where they are, andthat spirits do operate at several times in several places, — I cannot but attribute change of place to all finite spirits (for of the infinite spirit I speak not here/) For my soul being a real being, as well as my body, is certainly as capable of changing distance with any other body, or being, as body itself; and so is capable of motion. And if a mathema- tician can consider a certain distance, or a change of that distance between two points, one may certainly conceive a distance, and a change of distance between two spirits ; and so conceive their motion, their approach or removal, one from another. § 20. Every one tinds in himself, that his soul can think, will, and * aerate on his body in the place where that is ; but cannot ope- rate on a body or in a place an hundred miles distant from it. ^Nobody can imagine that his soul can think or move a body at Oxford, whilst he is at London : and cannot but know, that, being united to his body, it constantly changes place all the whole journey between Oxford and London, as the coach or horse does that carries him, and I think may be said to be truly all that while in motion 5 or if that will not be allowed to afford us a clear idea enough of its motion, its being separated from the body in death, 1 think, will ; for to consider it as going out of the body, or leaving it, and yet to have no idea of its motion, seems to me impossible. §21. If it be said by any one that it cannot change" place, because it hath none, for the spirits are not in locu, but tibi $ I suppose that way of talking will not now be of much weight to many, in an age that is not much disposed to admire or sutler themselves to be deceived by such unintelligible ways of speaking. But if any one thinks there is any sense in that distinction, and that it is applicable to our present purpose, 1 desire him to put it into intelligible English ; and then from thence draw a reason to show that immaterial spirits are not capable of motion. Indeed mo- tion cannot be attributed to God ; not because he is an imma- terial, but because he is an infinite spirit. § 22. IDEA OF SOUL AND BODY COMPARED. Let us compare then our complex idea of an immaterial spirit with our complex idea of body, and see whether there be any more obscurity in one than in the other, and in which most. Our idea of body, as 1 think, is an extended solid substance, capable of communicating motion by impulse: and our idea of soul, as an immaterial spirit, is of a substance that thinks, and has a power of exciting motion in body, by Milling or thought. These. 1 think, are our complex ideas of soul and body, as contradistin- guished^ :m>.i of the passing of motion out of one body into another ; which, I think, is as obscure and unconceivable, as how our minds move or stop our bodies by thought: which we every moment find they do. The increase of motion by impulse, which is observed or believed sometimes to happen, is yet harder to be understood. We have by daily experience clear evidence of motion produced both by impulse and by thought; but the manner, how, hardly comes within our comprehension ; we are equally at a loss in both. So that however we consider motion, and its communica- tion, either from body or spirit, the idea which belongs to spirit is at least as clear as that which belongs to body. And if we con- sider the active power of moving, or as I may call it, motivity, it is much clearer in spirit than body ; since two bodies, placed by one another at rest, will never afford us the idea of a power in the one to move the other, but by a borrowed motion ; whereas the mind, every day, affordsus ideas of an active power of moving of bodies ; and therefore it is worth our consideration, whether active power be not the proper attribute of spirits, and passive power of matter. Hence may be conjectured, that created spirits are not totally separate from matter, because they are both active and passive. Pure spirit, viz. God is only active ; pure matter is only passive ; those beings that are both active and passive, we may judge to partake of both. But be that as it will, I think we have as many, and as clear ideas belonging to spirit as we have belonging to body, the substance of each being equally unknown to us ; and the idea of thinking in spirit as clear as of extension in body ; and the communication of motion by thought, which we attribute to spirit, is as evident as that by impulse, which we ascribe to body. Constant experience makes us sensible of both these, though our narrow understandings can comprehend neither. For when the mind would look beyond those original ideas we have from sensation or reflection, and penetrate into their causes, and manner of production, we find still it discovers nothing but its own short-sightedness. § 29. To conclude — sensation convinces us that there are solid extended substances, and reflection, that there are thinking ones; experience assures us of the existence of such beings, and that the one hath a power to move body by impulse, the other by thought ; this we cannot doubt of. Experience, I say, every moment furnishes us with the clear ideas both of the one and the other. But beyond these ideas, as received from their proper sources, our faculties will not reach. If we would inquire farther into their nature, causes, and manner, we perceive not the nature of extension clearer than we do of thinking. If we would explain them any farther, one is as easy as the other; and there is no more difficulty to conceive how a substance we know not should by thought set body into motion, than how a substance we know not #§4 OUR IBEAS OF SUBSTANCES, j BOOK II . should by impulse set body into motion. So that we are no mov- able to discover wherein the ideas belonging to body consist than those belonging to spirit. From whence it seems probable to me, that the simple ideas we receive from sensation and reflection are the boundaries of our thoughts ; beyond which the mind, whatever efforts it would make, is not able to advance one jot ; nor can it make any discoveries, when it would pry into the na- ture and hidden causes of those ideas. § 30. IDEA OF BODY AND SPIRIT COMPARED. So that, in short, the idea we have of spirit, compared with the idea we have of body, stands thus : the substance of spirit is unknown to us ; and so is the substance of body equally unknown to us. Two primary qualities or properties of body, viz. solid Coherent parts and impulse, we have distinct clear ideas' of : so likewise we know, and have distinct clear ideas of two primary qualities or properties of spirit, viz. thinking, and a power of ac- tion ; i. e. a power of beginning or stopping several thoughts or motions. We have also the ideas of several qualities, inherent in bodies, and have the clear distinct ideas of them ; which quali- ties are but the various modifications of the extension of cohering- *olid parts and their motion. We have likewise the ideas of the several modes of thinking, viz. believing, doubting, intending, fearing, hoping ; all which are but the several modes of thinking. We have also the ideas of willing, and moving the body conse- quent to it, and with the body itself too ; for, as has been shown, spirit is capable of motion. § 31. THE NOTION OF SPIRIT INVOLVES NO MORE DIFFICULTY IN IT THAN THAT OF BODY. Lastly, if this notion of immaterial spirit may have peThaps some difficulties in it not easy to be explained, we have therefore no more reason to deny or doubt the existence of such spirits, than we have to deny or doubt the existence of body ; because the notion of body is cumbered with some difficulties very hard, and perhaps impossible to be explained or understood by us. For I would fain have instanced any thing in our notion of spirit more perplexed, or nearer a contradiction, than the very notion of body includes in it : the divisibility in infinitum of any finite extension involving us, whether we grant or deny it, in consequences im- possible to be explicated or made in our apprehensions consis- tent : consequences that carry greater difficulty, and more appa- rent absurdity, than any thing can follow from the notion of an immaterial knowing substance. § 32. WE KNOW NOTHING BEVOND OUR SIMPLE IDEAS. Which we are not at all to wonder at, since we having but some few superficial ideas of things, discovered to us only by the senses from without, or by the mind, reflecting on what it experiments .,11'. XXIII.] OUR IDEAS OP SUBSTANCES, j&jji m itself within, have no knowledge beyond that, much less of the internal constitution and true nature of things, being destitute of faculties to attain it. And therefore experimenting and disco- vering in ourselves knowledge, and the power of voluntary motion, as certainly as we experiment or discover in things without us the cohesion and separation of solid parts, which is the extension and motion of bodies ; we have as much reason to be satisfied with our notion of immaterial spirit, as with our notion of body, and the existence of the one as well as the other. For it being no more a conti idiction that thinking should exist, separate and independent from solidity, than it is a contradiction that solidity should exist separate and independent from thinking, they being both but simple ideas, independent one from another, — and having as clear and distinct ideas in us of thinking as of solidity, — 1 know not why we may not as well allow a thinking thing without solidity, i. c. immaterial, to exist, as a solid thing without thinking, i. e. matter, to exist ; especially since it is not harder to conceive how thinking should exist without matter, than how matter should think. For whensoever we would proceed beyond these simple ideas we have from sensation and reflection, and dive farther into the nature of things, we fall presently into darkness and obscurity, perplexedness and difficulties ; and can discover nothing farther but our own blindness and ignorance. But whichever of these complex ideas be clearest, that of body or immaterial spirit, this is evident, that the simple ideas that make them up are no other than what we have received from sensation or reflection; and so is it of all our other ideas of substances, even of God himself. § 33. IDEA OF GOD. For if we examine the idea we have of the incomprehensible Supreme Being, we shall find, that we come by it the same way ; and that the complex ideas we have both of God and separate spirits are made up of the simple ideas we receive from reflection ; v. g. having, from what we experiment in ourselves, got the ideas of existence and duration ; of knowledge and power ; of plea- sure and happiness ; and of several other qualities and powers, which it is better to have than to be without : when we would frame an idea the most suitable we can to the Supreme Beinsj, we enlarge every one of these with our idea of infinity; and so putting them together, make our complex idea of God. For that the mind has such a power of enlarging some of its ideas, received from sensation and reflection, has been already shown. §34. If I find that I know some few things, and some of them, or all, perhaps, imperfectly, I can frame an idea of knowing twice as many; which I can double again, as often as 1 can add to num- ber ; and thus mlaree my idea of knowledge, by extending its J&ti OUR IDEAS OF SUESTANCES. [BOOK II, comprehension to all things existing or possible. The same also I can do of knowing them more perfectly ; i. e. all their quali- ties, powers, causes, consequences, and relations, &c. till all be perfectly known that is in them, or can any way relate to them ; and thus frame the idea of infinite or boundless knowledge. The same may also be done of power, till we come to that we call infinite ; and also of the duration of existence, without beginning or end ; and so frame the idea of an eternal being. The degrees or extent wherein we ascribe existence, power, wisdom, and all other perfections (which we can have any ideas of) to that sove- reign being which we call God, being all boundless and infinite, we frame the best idea of him our minds are capable of: all which is done, I say, by enlarging those simple ideas we have taken from the operations of our own minds by reflection, or by our senses from exterior things, to that vastness to which infinity can extend fhem. § 35. IDEA OF GOD. For it is infinity, which joined to our ideas of existence, power, knowledge, &c. makes that complex idea whereby we represent to ourselves, the best we can, the Supreme Being. For though in his own essence (which certainly we do not know, not knowing the real essence of a pebble, or a fly, or of our own selves) God be simple and uncompounded ; yet, I think, 1 may say we have no other idea of him but a complex one of existence, knowledge, power, happiness, &c. infinite and eternal ; which are all distinct ideas, and some of them, being relative, are again compounded of others ; all which being, as has been shown, ori- ginally got from sensation and reflection, go to make up the idea or notion we have of God. § 36. NO IDEA IN OUR COMPLEX ONE OF SPIRITS, BUT THOSE GOT FROM SENSATION OR REFLECTION. This farther is to be observed, that there is no idea we attribute to God, bating infinity, which is not also a part of our. complex idea of other spirits. Because, being capable of no other simple ideas, belonging to any thing but body, but those which by reflec- tion we receive from the operation of our own minds, we can attribute to spirits no other but what we receive from thence : and all the difference we can put between them in our contem- plation of spirits is only in the several extents and degrees of their knowledge, power, duration, happiness, &c. For that in our ideas, as well of spirits as of other things, we are restrained to those we receive from sensation and reflection, is evident from hence, that in our ideas of spirits, how much soever advanced in perfection beyond those of bodies, even to that of infinite, we cannot yet have any idea of the manner wherein they discover their thoughts one to another : though we must necessarily con- clude, that separate spirits, which are beings that have perfecter CH. XXIII.] OblL IDEAS OK SUBSTANCI 281 knowledge and greater happiness than we, must needs have also a perfecter way of communicating their thoughts than we have, who are fain to make use of corporeal signs and particular sounds: which are therefore of most general use, as being the best and quickest we are capable of. But of immediate communication, having no experiment in ourselves, and consequently no notion of it at all, we have no k!ea how spirits, which use not words, can with quickness, or much less how spirits, that have no bodies, can be masters of their own thoughts, and communicate or con- ceal them at pleasure, though we cannot but necessarily suppose they have such a power. §37. RECAPITULATION.. And thus we have seen what kind of ideas we have of sub- stances of all kinds, wherein they consist, and how we came by them. From whence, I think, it is very evident, First, That all our ideas of the several sorts of substances are nothing but collections of simple ideas, with a supposition of something to which they belong, and in which they subsist : though of this supposed something we have no clear distinct idea at all. Secondly, that all the simple ideas, that thus united in one com- mon substratum make up our complex ideas of several sorts of substances, are no other but such as we have received from sen- sation or reflection. So that even in those which we think we are most intimately acquainted with, and that come nearest the comprehension of our most enlarged conceptions, we cannot go beyond those simple ideas. And even in those which seem most remote from all we have to do with, and do infinitely surpass any thing we can perceive in ourselves by reflection, or discover by sensation in other things, we can attain to nothing but those sim- ple ideas, which we originally received from sensation and re- flection ; as is evident in the complex ideas we have of angels, and particularly of God himself. Thirdly, that most of the simple ideas that make up our com- plex ideas of substances, when truly considered, are only powers, however we are apt to take them for positive qualities ; v. g. the greatest part of the ideas that make our complex idea of gold arc yellowness, great weight, ductility, fusibility, and solubility in aqua regia, &c. all united together in an unknown substratum ; all which ideas are nothing else but so many relations to other substances, and are not really in the gold, considered barely in itself, though they depend on those real and primary qualities of its internal constitution, whereby it has a fitness differently to operate, and be operated on by several other substances. 288 CHAPTER XXIV. OF COLLECTIVE IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES- § 1. ONE IDEA. Besides these complex ideas of several single substances, as of man, horse, gold, violet, apple, &c. the mind hath also com- plex collective ideas of substances ; which 1 so call, because such ideas are made up of many particular substances considered together, as united into one idea, and which so joined are looked on as one: v. g. the idea of such a collection of men as make an army, though consisting of a great number of distinct sub- stances, is as much one idea as the idea of a man : and the great collective idea of all bodies whatsoever, signified by the name world, is as much one idea as the idea of any the least particle of matter in it ; it sufficing to the unity of any idea that it be considered as one representation or picture, though made up of ever so many particulars. § 2. MADE BY THE POWER OF COMPOSING IN THE MIND. These collective ideas of substances the mind makes by its power of composition, and uniting severally either simple or complex ideas into one, as it does by the same faculty make the complex ideas of particular substances, consisting of an aggre- gate of divers simple ideas, united in one substance ; and as the mind, by putting together the repeated ideas of unity, makes the collective mode, or complex idea of any number, as a score, or a gross, Sic. so by putting together several particular substances. it makes collective ideas of substances, as a troop, an army, a swarm, a city, a fleet ; each of which, every one finds, that he represents to his own mind by one idea, in one view ; and so under that notion considers those several things as perfectly one, as one ship, or one atom. Nor is it harder to conceive, how an army of ten thousand men should make one idea, than how a man should make one idea : it being as easy to the mind to unite into one the idea of a great number of men, and consider it as one, as it is to unite into one particular all the distinct ideas that make up the composition of a man, and consider them all together as one. §3. ALL ARTIFICIAL THINGS ARE COLLECTIVE IDEAS. Among such kind of collective ideas, are to be counted most part of artificial things, at least such of them as are made up of distinct substances : and, in truth, if we consider all these «olleclive ideas aright, as army, constellation, universe, as they are united into so many single ideas, they are but the artificial draughts of trie mind ; bringing things very remote, and incle Vll. XXV. J OF RELATION. jS!t pendent on one another, into one view, the better to contemplate and discourse of them, united into one conception, and signified by one name. For there are no things so remote, nor so con- trary, which the mind cannot, by this art of composition, bring into one idea; as is visible in that signified by the name universe.' CHAPTER XX\ OF ILLATION § 1. RELATION", WHAT. Besides the ideas, whether simple or complex, that the mind lias of things, as they are in themselves, there are others it gets from their comparison one with another. The understanding, in the consideration of any thing, is not confined to that precise object : it can cany any idea as it were beyond itself, or at least look beyond it, to see how it stands in conformity to any other. When the mind so considers one thing, that it does as it were bring it to and set it by another, and carry its view from one to the other: this is, as the words import, relation and respect; and the denominations given to positive things, intimating that respect, and serving as marks to lead the thoughts beyond th<- subject itself denominated to something distinct from it, are what we call relatives ; and the things, so brought together, related. Thus, when the mind considers Caius as such a positive being, it takes nothing into that idea but what really exists in Caius ; v. g. when I consider him as a man, I have nothing in my mind but the complex idea of the species, man. So likewise, when I say Caius is a white man, I have nothing but the bare considera- tion of a man who hath that white colour. But when 1 give Caius the name husband, 1 intimate some other person ; and when 1 give him the name whiter, I intimate some other thing: in both cases my thought is led to something beyond Caius, and. there are two things brought into consideration. And since any idea, whether simple or complex, may be the occasion why the mind thus brings two things together, and as it were takes a view of them at once, though still considered as distinct ; then- fore any of our ideas may be the foundation of relation. As in the above-mentioned instance, the contract and ceremony of marriage with Scmpronia is the occasion of the denomination or relation of husband ; and the colour white the occasion why hi is said to be whiter than freestone. Vol. I. "90 OF RELATIO> [BOOK 11- § 2. RELATIONS WITHOUT CORRELATIVE TERMS NOT EASILY PERCEIVED. These, and the like relations, expressed by relative terms, that have others answering them, with a reciprocal intimation, as father a>d son, bigger and less, cause and effect, are very obvious to every one, and every body at first sight perceives the relation. For father and son, husband and wife, and such other correlative terms, seem so nearly to belong one to another, and through custom do so readily chime and answer one another in people's memories, that, upon the naming of either of them, the thoughts arc presently carried beyond the thing so named ; and nobody overlooks or doubts of a relation, where it is so plainly inti- mated. But where languages have failed to give correlative names, there the relation is not always so easily taken notice of. Concubine is, no doubt, a relative name, as well as wife ; but in languages where this, and the like words, have not a correlative term, there people are not so apt to take them to be so, as want- ing that evident mark of relation which is between correlatives, which seem to explain one another, and not to be able to exist but together. Hence it is, that many of those names which, duly considered, do include evident relations, have been called external denominations. But all names, that are more than empty sounds, must signify some idea, which is either in the thing to which the name is applied ; — and then it is positive, and is looked on as united to, and existing in the thing to which the denomination is given ; — or else it arises from the respect the mind finds in it to something distinct from it, with which it con- siders it ; and then it includes a relation. , § 3. SOME SEEMINGLY ABSOLUTE TERMS CONTAIN RELATIONS. Another sort of relative terms there is, which are not looked on to be either relative, or so much as external denominations ; which yet, under the form and appearance of signifying some- thing absolute in the subject, do conceal a tacit, though less observable relation. Such are the seemingly positive terms of old, great, imperfect, &c. whereof I shall have occasion to speak more at large in the following chapters. § 4. RELATION DIFFERENT FROM THE THINGS RELATED. This farther may be observed, that the ideas of relation may be the same in men, who have far different ideas of the things that are related, or that are thus compared ; v. g. those who have far different ideas of a man, may yet agree in the notion of a father ; which is a notion superinduced to the substance, or man. and refers only to an act of that thing called man, whereby he- contributed to the generation of one of his own kind, let man be what it will. 6H. XXV. J OF RELATION. 291 § o. CHANGE OF RELATION MAV BE WITHOUT ANY CHANGE IN THE SUBJECT. The nature therefore of relation consists in the referring or comparing two things one to another ; from which comparison one or both comes to be denominated. And if either of those things be removed or cease to be, the relation ceases, and the denomination consequent to it, though the other receive in itself no alteration at all ; v. g. Caius, whom I consider to-day as a father, ceases to be so to-morrow, only by the death of his son, without any alteration made in himself. Nay, barely by the mind's changing the object to which it compares any thing, the same thing is capable of having contrary denominations at the same time : v. g. Caius, compared to several persons, may truly be said to be older and younger, stronger and weaker, &c. § 6. RELATION ONLY BETWIXT TWO THINGS. Whatsoever doth or can exist, or be considered as one thing, is positive ; and so not only simple ideas and substances, but modes also, are positive beings ; though the parts of which they consist are very often relative one to another ; but the whole together considered as one thing, and producing in us the com- plex idea of one thing, which idea is in our minds as one picture, though an aggregate of divers parts, and under one name, it is a positive or absolute thing or idea. Thus a triangle, though the parts thereof compared one to another be relative, yet the idea of the whole is a positive absolute idea. The same may be said of a family, a tune, &c. for there can be no relation but be- twixt two things considered as two things. There must always be in relation two ideas, or things, either in themselves really separate, or considered as distinct, and then a ground or occasion for their comparison. § 7. ALL THINGS CAPABLE OF RELATION. Concerning relation in general, these things may be considered : First, that there is no one thing, whether simple idea, sub- stance, mode, or relation, or name of either of them, which is not capable of almost an infinite number of considerations, in reference to otherthings ; and therefore this makes no small part of men's thoughts and words : v. g. one single man may at once be concerned in, and sustain all these following relations, and many more, viz. father, brother, son, grandfather, grand- son, father-in-law, son-in-law, husband, friend, enemy, subject, general, judge, patron, client, professor, European, Englishman, islander, servant, master, possessor, captain, superior, inferior, bigger, less, older, younger, contemporary, like, unlike, &c. to an almost infinite number : he being capable of as many rela- tions as there can be occasions of comparing him to other things, in any manner of agreement, disagreement, or respect whatso- ever. For. as I said, relation is a way of comparing or consider 293 OF RfcL.Vl'IO.N. [book 11. ing two (lungs together, and giving one or both of them some appellation from that comparison : and sometimes giving even the relation itself a name. § 3. THE IDEAS OF RELATIONS CLEARER OFTEN THAN OF THE SUBJECTS RELATED. Secondly, This farther may be considered concerning relation, that though it be not contained in the real existence of things, but something extraneous and superinduced; yet the ideas which relative words stand for, are often clearer and more distinct than of those substances to which they do belong. The notion we have of a father, or brother, is a great deal clearer and more distinct than that we have of a man; or, if you will, paternity is a thing whereof it is easier to have a clear idea than of hu- manity : and I can much easier conceive what a friend is, than what God : because the knowledge of one action, or one simple idea, is oftentimes sufficient to give mc the notion of a relation ; but to the knowing of any substantial being, an accurate col- lection of sundry ideas is necessary. A man, if he compares two things together, can hardly be supposed not to know what it is wherein he compares them : so that when he compares any things together, he cannot but have a very clear idea of that rela- tion. The ideas then of relations are capable at least of being more perfect and distinct in our minds, than those of substances. Because it is commonly hard to know all the simple ideas which are really in any substance, but for the most part easy enough to know the simple ideas that make up any relation I think on, or have a name for; v. g. comparing two men, in reference to one common parent, it is very easy to frame the ideas of brothers, without having yet the perfect idea of a man. For significant relative words, as well as others, standing only for ideas, and those being all either simple, or made up of simple ones, it suffices for the knowing the precise idea the relative term stands for, to have a clear conception of that which is the foundation of the relation ; which may be done without having a perfect and clear idea of the thing it is attributed to. Thus having the notion, that one laid the egg out of which the other was hatched, 1 have a clear idea of the relation of dam and chick,' between the two eassiowaries in St. James's Park ; though perhaps I have but a very obscure and imperfect idea of those birds themselves. §9. RELATIONS ALE TERMINATE IN SIMPLE IDEAS. Thirdly, though there be a great number of considerations, wherein things may be compared one with another, and so a multitude of relations ; yet they all terminate in, and are con- cerned about, those simple ideas, either of sensation or reflection : which I think to be the whole materials of all our knowledge. To clear this, I shall show it in the most considerable relations that we have ';nv notion of. and in gome that seem to be the most cm xxvi. j o3P relation. 293 remote from sense or reflection ; which yet will appear to have their ideas from thence, and leave it past doubt, that the notions we have of them are but certain simple ideas, and so originally derived from sense or reflection. § 10. TERMS LEADING THE MIND BEYOND T^E SUBJECT DENOMINATED, ARE RELATIVE. Fourthly, that relation being the considering of one thing with another, which is extrinsical to it, it is evident, that all words that necessarily lead the mind to any other ideas than are ^up- posed really to exist in that thing, to which the words are applied, are relative words : v. g. a man black, merry, thoughtful, thirsty, angry, extended ; these, and the like, are all absolute, because they neither signify nor intimate any thing but what does or is sup- posed really to exist in the man thus denominated : but father, brother, king, husband, blacker, merrier, &c. are words which, together with the thing they denominate, imply also something else separate and exterior to the existence of that thing. §11, CONCLUSION. Having laid down these premises concerning relation in gene- ral, I shall now proceed to show, in some instances, how ail the ideas we have of relation are made up, as the others are, only of simple ideas ; and that they all, how refined or remote from sense soever they seem, terminate at last in simple ideas. I shall begin with the most comprehensive relation, wherein all things that do or can exist are concerned ; and that is the relation of cause and effect. The idea whereof, how derived from the two fountains of all our knowledge, sensation and reflection, 1 shall in the next place consider. CHAPTER XXVI. OF CAUSE AND EFFECT, AND OTHER RELATION -. §'l WHENCE THEIR IDEAS GOT. In the notice that our senses take of the constant vicissitudes of things, we cannot but observe, that several particular, both qualities and substances, begin to exist ; and that they receive this their existence from the due application and operation of some other being. From this observation we get our ideas ot cause and effect. That which produces any simple or complex idea we denote by the general name cause ; and that which is pro- duced, effect. Thus finding that in that substance which we call wax fluidity, which is a simple idea that was not in it before, is 294 OP RELATION. [BOOK II. constantly produced by the application of a certain degree of heat ; we call the simple idea of heat, in relation to fluidity in wax, the cause of it, and fluidity the effect. So also finding that the substance of wood, which is a certain collection of simple ideas, so called, by the application of fire is turned into another substance called ashes, 4 «• another complex idea, consisting of a collection of simple ideas, quite different from that complex idea which we call wood ; we consider fire, in relation to ashes, as cause, and the ashes as effect. So that whatever is considered by us to conduce or operate to the producing any particular simple idea, or collection of simple ideas, whether substance or mode, which did not before exist , hath thereby in our minds the relation of a cause, and so is denominated by us. § 2. CREATION, GENERATION, MAKING ALTERATION. Having thus, from what our senses are able to discover, in the operations of bodies on one another, got the notion of cause and effect, viz. that a cause is that which makes any other thing, either simple idea, substance or mode, begin to be ; and an effect is that which had its beginning from some other thing, the mind finds no great difficulty to distinguish the several originals off things into two sorts; First, when the thing is wholly made new, so that no part thereof did ever exist before ; as when a new particle of matter doth begin to exist, in rerum nahira, which had before no being, and this we call creation. Secondly, when a thing is made up of particles, which did all of them before exist, but that very thing so constituted of pre- existing particles, which, considered all together, make up such a collection of simple ideas as had not any existence before; as this man, this egg, rose, or cherry, &c. And this, when referred to a substance, produced in the ordinary course of nature, by internal principle, but set on work, and received from some external agent or cause, and working by insensible ways, which we perceive not, we call generation : when the cause is extrin- sical, and the effect produced by a sensible separation, or juxta- position of discernible parts, we call it making ; and such are all artificial things. When any simple idea is produced which was not in that subject before, we call it alteration. Thus a man is generated, a picture made, and either of them altered, when any new sensible quality or simple idea is produced in either of them, which was not there before ; and the things thus made to exist, which were not there before, are effects ; and those things, which operated to the existence, causes. In which, and all other causes, we may observe, that the notion of cause and effect has its rise from ideas, received by sensation or reflec- tion ; and that this relation, how comprehensible soever, ter- minates at last in them. For to have the idea of cause and pffrrt. it suffices to consider any simple idea, or substance, as CA. XXVI. J Of RELATION. 295 beginning to exist by the operation of some other, without know- ing the manner of that operation. § 3. RELATIONS OF TIME. Time and place are also the foundations of very large rela- tions, and all hnite beings at least are concerned in them. But having already shown, in another place, how we get these ideas, it may suffice here to intimate, that most of the denominations of things, received from time, are only relations. Thus, when any one says, that queen Elizabeth lived sixty nine, and reigned forty-five years, these words import only the relation of that duration to some other, and mean no more than this, that the duration of her existence was equal to sixty-nine, and the dura- tion of her government to forty-five annual revolutions of the sun ; and so are all words, answering, how long. Again, Wil- liam the ' Conqueror invaded England about the year ;0G6, which means this, that taking the duration from our Saviour's time till now for one entire great length of time, it shows at what distance this invasion was from the two extremes ; and so do all words of time, answering to the question, when, which show only the distance of any point of time from the period of a longer duration, from which we measure, and to which we thereby consider it as related. §4. There are yet, besides those, other words of time, that ordi- narily are thought to stand for positive ideas, which yet will, when considered, be found to be relative, such as are young, old, &c. which include and intimate the relation any thing has to a certain length of duration whereof we have the idea in our minds. Thus having settled in our thoughts the idea of the ordinary duration of a man to be seventy years, when we say a man is young, we mean that his age is yet but a small part of that which usually men attain to : and when we denominate him old, we mean that his duration is run out almost to the end of that which men do not usually exceed. And so it is but comparing the par- ticular age, or duration of this or that man, to the idea of that duration which we have in our minds, as ordinarily belonging to that sort of animals; which is plain, in the application of these names to other things ; for a man is called young at twenty years, and very young at seven years old : but yet a horse we call old at twenty, and a dog at seven years ; because in each of these we compare their age to different ideas of duration, which arc settled in our minds, as belonging to these several sorts of ani- mals, in the ordinary course of nature. But the sun and stars, though they have outlasted several generations of men, we < ;tll not old, because we do not know what period God hath •( to lhat sort of beings. This term belonging properly to thos< things, which we can observe in the ordinary course "I things, b* 29G OF RELATION. [BOOK II. a natural decay, to come to an end in a certain period of time ; and so have in our minds, as it were, a standard to which we can compare the several parts of their duration ; and, by the relation they bear thereunto, call them young or old : which we cannot therefore do to a ruby or diamond, things whose usual periods we know not. § 5. RELATIONS OK PLACE AND EXTENSION. The relation also that things have to one another in their places and distances, is very obvious to observe ; as above, below, a mile distant from Charing-cross, in England, and in London. But as in duration, so in extension and bulk, there are some ideas that are relative, which we signify by names that are thought positive ; as great and little are truly relations. For here also having, by observation, settled in our minds the ideas of the bigness of several species of things from those we have been most accustomed to, we make them as it were the standards whereby to denominate the bulk of others. Thus we call a great apple, such a one as is bigger than the ordinary sort of those we have been used to ; and a little horse such a one as comes not up to the size of that idea, which we have in our minds, to belong ordinarily to horses ; and that will be a great horse to a Welch- man which is but a little one to a Fleming ; they two having, from the different breed of their countries, taken several sized ideas to which they compare, and in relation to which they denominate, their great and their little. § 6. ABSOLUTE TERMS OFTEN STAND FOR RELATIONS. So likewise weak and strong are but relative denominations of power, compared to some ideas we have at that time of greater or less power. Thus when we say a weak man, we mean one that has not so much strength or power to move, as usually men have, or usually those of his size have : which is a comparing his strength to the idea we have of the usual strength of men, or men of such a size. The like, when we say the creatures are- all weak things ; weak, there, is but a relative term, signifying the disproportion there is in the power of God and the creatures. And so abundance of words, in ordinary speech, stand only for relations (and perhaps the greatest part) which at first sight seem to have no such signification : v. g. the ship has necessary stores. Necessary and stores are both relative words ; one having a rela- tion to the accomplishing the voyage intended, and the other to future use. All which relations, how they are confined to and terminate in ideas derived from sensation or reflection, is too obvious to need anv explication, CHAPTER XXVJI. OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. § I. WHEREIN IM.N'UTY CONSIST?. Another occasion the mind often lakes of comparing, is the very being of things ; when considering any thing as existing at any determined time and place, we compare it with itself existing at another time, and thereon form the ideas of identity and diver- sity. When we see any thing to be in any place in any instant of time, we are sure (be it what it will) that it is that very thing, and not another, which at that same time exists in another place, how like and undistinguishable soever it may be in all other respects : and in this consists identity, when the ideas it is attri- buted to vary not at all from what they were that moment wherein we consider their former existence, and to which we compare the present. For we never finding nor conceiving it possible, that two things of the same kind should exist in the same place at the same time, we rightly conclude, that whatever exists any where at any time, excludes all of the same kind, and is there itself alone. When therefore we demand, whether any thing be the same or no, it refers always to something that existed such a time in such a place, which it is certain at that instant was the same with itself and no other. From whence it follows, that one thing cannot have two beginnings of existence, nor two things one beginning ; it being impossible for two things of the same kind to be or exist in the same instant, in the very same place, or one and the same thing in different places. That therefore that had one beginning, is the same thing; and that which had a different beginning in lime and place from that, is not the same, but diverse. That which has made the difficulty about this relation, has been the little care and attention used in having precise notions of (lt< things to which it is attributed. § 2. IDENTITY OF SUBSTANCES. We have the ideas but of three sorts of substances : 1, (jiod. 2. Finite intelligences. 3. Bodies. First, God is without begin- ning, eternal, unalterable, and every where ; and therefore con- cerning his identity there can be no doubt. Secondly, finite spi- rits, having had each its determinate time and place of beginning to exist, the relation to that time and place will always determine to each of them its identity, as long as it exists. Thirdly, the same will hold of every particle of matter, to which no addition or subtraction of matter being made, it is the same. For though these three sorts of substances, as we term them, do not exclude one another out of the same place : yet we cannot conceive but that they must necessarily each of them exclude any of the same Vol. I, 58 ii/8 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. [BOOK 1U kind out oi' the same place : or else the notions and names of identity and diversity would be in vain, and there could be no such distinction of substances, or any thing else one from another. For example : could two bodies be in the same place at the same time, then those two parcels of matter must be one and the same, take them great or little ; nay, all bodies must be one and the same. For by the same reason that two particles of matter may be in one place, all bodies may be in one place : which, when it can be supposed, takes away the distinction of identity and diver- sity of one and more, and renders it ridiculous. But it being a contradiction, that two or more should be one, identity and diversity are relations and ways of comparing well-founded, and of use to the understanding. All other things being Identity of ^^ m0(jes or relations ultimately terminated in sub- stances, the identity and diversity of each particular existence of them too will be by the same way determined : only as to things whose existence is in succession, such as are the actions of finite beings, v. g. motion and thought, both which consist in a continued train of succession ; concerning their diversity, there can be no question : because each perishing the moment it begins, they cannot exist in different times, or in dif- ferent places, as permanent beings can at different times exist in distant places ; and therefore no motion or thought, considered as at different times, can be the same, each part thereof having a different beginning of existence. § 3. PRIJJCIPIUM INDIVIDUATIONIS. From what has been said, it is easy to discover what is so much inquired after, the principium individuationis ; and that, it is plain, is existence itself, which determines a being of any sort to a particular time and place, incommunicable to two beings of the same kind. This, though it seems easier to conceive in simple substances or modes, yet when reflected on is not more difficult in compound ones, if care be taken to what it is applied : v. g. let us suppose an atom, i. e. a continued body under one immu- table superficies, existing in a determined time and place : it is evident that, considered in any instant of its existence, it is in that instant the same with itself. For being at that instant what it is, and nothing else, it is the same, and so must continue as long as its existence is continued ; for so long it will be the same, and no other. In like manner, if two or more atoms be joined together into the same mass, every one of those atoms will be the same, by the foregoing rule ; and whilst they exist united together, the mass, consisting of the same atoms, must be the same mass, or the same body, let the parts be ever so differently jumbled. But if one of these atoms be taken away, or one new one added, it is no longer the same mass, or the same body. In the state of living creatures, their identity depends not on a mass of the same particles, bul on something ehe. For in them the variation crt Cfl. XXVII.] -OK IDE.NTill' AND DIVERS IXY. SQfl great parcels of matter alters not the identity : an oak growing from a plant to a great tree, and then lopped, is still the same oak ; and a colt grown up to a horse, sometimes fat, sometimes lean, is all the while the same horse ; though, in hoth these cases, there may be a manifest change of the parts ; so that truly the\ are not either of them the same masses of matter, though they be truly one of them the same oak, and the other the same horse. The reason whereof is, that in these two cases, a mass of matter, and a living body, identity is not applied to the same thing. § 4. IDENTITY OF VEGETABLES. We must therefore consider wherein an oak differs from a mass of matter, and that seems to me to be in this, that the one is only' the cohesion of particles of matter any how united, the other .such a disposition of them as constitutes the parts of an oak ; and such an organization of those parts as is fit to receive and distribute nourishment, so as to continue and frame the wood, bark, and leaves, k.c. of an oak, in which consists the vegetable .life. That being then one plant which has such an organization of parts in one coherent body partaking of one common life, ii continues to be the same plant as long as it partakes of the same life, though that life be communicated to new particles of matter vitally united to the living plant, in a like continued organization conformable to that sort of plants. For this organization being at any one instant in any one collection of matter, is in that par- ticular concrete, distinguished from all other, and is that indivi- dual life which existing constantly from that moment both for- wards and backwards, in the same continuity of insensibly suc- ceeding parts united to the living body of the plant, it has that identity, which makes the same plant, and all the parts of it, parts of the same plant, during all the time that they exist united in that continued organization, which is fit to convey that common Jife to all the parts so united. § 5. IDENTITY OF ANIMALS. The case is not so much different in brutes, but that any one may hence see what makes an animal, and continues it the same. Something we have like this in machines, and may serve to illus- trate it. For example, what is a watch ? It is plain it is. nothing but a fit organization, or construction of parts, to a certain end, which when a sufficient force is added to it, it is capable to attain. If we would suppose this machine one continued body, :dl whose organized parts were repaired, increased, or diminished, by a constant addition or separation of insensible parts, with one commOB life, we should have something very much like the body of an animal ; with this difference, that in an animal the fitness of the organization, and the motion wherein life consists, begin together, the motion coming from within ; but in machines, the 300 Oi' IDENTITY AND DiVtHSITY. [liOOK II. force coming sensibly from without, is often away when the organ is in order, and well fitted to receive it. § 6. IDENTITY OF MAN. This also shows wherein the identity of the same man consists; viz. in nothing but a participation of the same continued life, by constantly fleeting particles of matter, in succession vitally united to the same organized body. He that shall place the identity of man in any thing else, but, like that of other animals, in one fitly organized body, taken in any one instant, and from thence conti- nued under one organization of life in several successively fleet- ing particles of matter united to it, will find it hard to make an embryo, one of years, mad and sober, the same man, by any supposition, that will not make it possible for Seth, Ismael, Socra- tes, Pilate, St. Austin, and Caesar Borgia, to be the same man* But if the identity of soul alone makes the same man, and there be nothing in the nature of matter why the same individual spirit may not be united to different bodies, it will be possible that those men living in distant ages, and of different tempers, may have been the same man: which way of speaking must be, from a very strange use of the word man, applied to an idea, out of which body and shape are excluded. And that way of speaking would agree yet worse with the notions of those philosophers who allow of transmigration, and are of opinion that the souls of men may, for their miscarriages, be detruded into the bodies of beasts, as fit habitations, with organs suited to the satisfaction of their brutal inclinations. But yet, I think, nobody, could he be sure that the soul of Heliogabalus, were in one of his hogs, would yet say that hog were a man or Heliogabalus. § 7. IDENTITY SUITED TO THE IDEA. It is not therefore unity of substance that comprehends all sorts of identity, or will determine it in every case : but to conceive and judge of it aright, we must consider what idea the word it is applied to stands for; it being one thing to be the same substance, another the same man, and a third the same person, if person, man, and substance are three names standing for three different ■ ideas ; for such as is the idea belonging to that name, such must be the identity ; which, if it had been a little more carefully attended to, would possibly have prevented a great deal of that confusion, which often occurs about this matter, with no small seeming difficulties, especially concerning personal identity, which therefore we shall in the npxt place a little consider. § 8. SAME MAN. An animal is a living organized body ; and consequently the same animal, as we have observed, is the same continued life communicated to different particles of matter, as they happen successively to be united to thai organized living bodv. And CH. XXVII.] uP IDENTITY .VXD DIVERSITY, 301 •whatever is talked of other definitions, ingenious observation puts it past doubt, that the idea in our minds, of which the sound man in our mouths is the sign, is nothing else but of an animal of such a certain form : since I think I may be confident, that who- ever should see a creature of his own shape and make, though it had no more reason all its life than a cat or a parrot, would call him still a man ; or whoever should hear a cat or a parrot dis- course, reason, ant hilosophize, would call or think it nothing but a cat or a parrot ; and say, the one was a dull irrational man, and the other a very intelligent rational parrot. A relation we have in an author of great note is sufficient to countenance the supposition of a rational parrot. His words are . " I had a mind to know from Prince Maurice's own mouth the account of a common, but much credited story, that I heard so often from many others, of an old parrot he had in Brasil during his government there, that spoke, and asked, and answered com- mon questions like a reasonable creature : so that those of his train there generally concluded it to be witchery or possession : and one of his chaplains, who lived long afterward in Holland, would never from that time endure a parrot, but said, they all had a devil in them. I had heard many particulars of this story, and assevered by people hard to be discredited, which made me ask Prince Maurice what there was of it. lie said, with his usual plainness and dryness in talk, there was something true, but a great deal false of what had been reported. I desired to know of him what there, was of the first ? He told me short and coldly, that he had heard of such an old parrot when he had been at Brasil ; and though he believed nothing of it, and it wras a good way off, yet he had so much curiosity as to send for it : that it was a very great and a very old one, and when it came first in the room where the prince was, with a great many Dutchmen about him, it said presently, What a company of white men are here ! They asked it what it thought that man was I pointing to the prince. It answered, some general or other ; when they brought it close to him, he asked it, ID'ou venez vous ? It answered, De Marinnan. The prince, A qui estes vous ? The parrot, A un Portugais. Prince, Que fais tu la ? Parrot, Je gardez les poulles. The prince laughed, and said, Vous gardez les poulles ? The parrot answered, Oui, moi, & jc scai bicn faire ; and made the chuck four or five times that people use to make to chickens when they call them. I set down the words of this worthy dia- logue in French, just as Prince Maurice said them I asked him in what language the parrot spoke, and he said, in Memoirs of what passed in Christen lom from 1672 to 1070,]). -^ t Whenc me ye? It answered, From Marinnan. rh< prince, To ivhoru do you belong ? The pariot, To a Portuguese. Prince, What do you their ? Parrot, 1 1;\v.rr«l. 5fo?. I. Mil I lv H)M •■' !1 enough how to • to if.. 302 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. [BOOK II* Brasilian ; I asked whether he understood Brasilian ; he said, no, but he had taken care to have two interpreters by him, the one a ' Dutchman that spoke Brasilian, and the other a Brasilian that spoke Dutch ; that he asked them separately and privately, and "both of them agreed in telling him just the same thing that the parrot had said. I could not but tell this odd story, because it is so much out of the way, and from the first hand, and what may pass for a good one; for I dare say this prince at least believed himself in all he told me, having ever passed for a very honest and pious man : I leave it to naturalists to reason, and to other men to believe, as they please upon it ; however, it is not, per- haps, amiss to relieve or enliven a busy scene sometimes with such digressions, whether to the purpose ornd." SAME MAN. I have taken care that the reader should have the story at large in the author's own words, because he seems to me not to have- thought it incredible ; for it cannot be imagined that so able a man as he, who had sufficiency enough to warrant all the testimo- nies he gives of himself, should take so much pains in a place where it had nothing to do, to pin so close not only on a man whom he mentions as his friend, but on a prince in whom he acknowledges very great honesty and piety, a story which if he himself thought incredible, he could not but also think ridicu- lous. The prince, it is plain, who vouches this story, and our author, who relates it from him. both of them call this talker a parrot ; and 1 ask any one else, who thinks such a story fit to be told, whether if this parrot, and all of its kind, had always talked, as we have a prince's word for it this one did, whether, I say, they would not have passed for a race of rational animals : but yet whether for all that they would have been allowed to be men, and not parrots ? For I presume it is not the idea of a thinking or rational being alone that makes the idea of a man in most peo- ple's sense, but of a body, so and so shaped, joined to it : and if that be the idea of a man, the same successive body not shifted all at once, must, as well as the same immaterial spirit, go to the making of the same man. § 9. PERSONAL IDENTITY. This being premised, to find wherein personal identity consists, we must consider what person stands for : which, 1 think, is a thinking intelligent being, that has reason and reflection, and can consider itself as itself, the same thinking thing in different times and places ; which it does only by that consciousness which is inseparable from thinking, and as it seems to me essential to it : ji being impossible for any one to perceive, without perceiving that he does perceive. When we see, hear, taste, smell, feel, medi- tate, or will any thing, we know that we do so. Thus it is always as to our present ^cn^ations and perceptions : and by this every CH. XXVII.] Off IDKM'tTV A\0 DIV'EKSWV, !o£i.> one is to himself that which he calls self; it not being considered in this case whether the same self be continued in the same or divers substances. For since consciousness always accompanies thinking, and it is that which makes every one to be what he calls self, and thereby distinguishes himself from all other thinking things ; in this alone consists personal identity, i. e. the sameness of a rational being : and as far as this consciousness can be extended backwards to any past action or thought, so far reaches the identity of that person ; it is the same self now it was then ; and it is by the same self with this present one that now reflects on it, that that action was done. § 10. CONSCIOUSNESS MAKES PERSONAL IDENTITY. But it is farther inquired, whether it be the same identical sub- stance ? This few would think they had reason to doubt of, if these perceptions, with their consciousness, always remained present in the mind, whereby the same thinking thing would be always consciously present, and, as would be thought, evidently the same to itself. But that which seems to make the difficulty is this, that this consciousness being interrupted always by forget- lulness, there being no moment of our lives wherein we have the whole train of all our past actions before our eyes in one view, but even the best memories losing the sight of one part whilst (hey are viewing another; — and we sometimes, and that the greatest part of our lives, not reflecting on our past selves, being intent on our present thoughts, and in sound sleep having no thoughts at all, or at least none with that consciousness which remarks our waking thoughts ; — I sajr, in all these cases, our con- sciousness being interrupted, and we losing the sight of our past selves, doubts are raised whether we are the same thinking thing. i. c. the same substance or no. Which, however reasonable or unreasonable, concerns not personal identity at all : the question being, what makes the same person, and not whether it be the same identical substance, which always thinks in the same per- son ; which in this case matters not at all : different substances, by the same consciousness (where they do partake in it,) being united into one person, as well as different bodies by the same life are united into one animal, whose identity is preserved, in that change of substances, by the unity of one continued life. For it being the same consciousness that makes a man be himself to himself, personal identity depends on that only, wh< h r it be annexed solely to one individ 1 sub.sta t< e or can be continued in a succession of several substances. For as tar as any intelli- gent being can repeat ihe idea of any past action with the me consciousness it had of it at first, and with the same consciousness it has of any present action, so far it is the same personal self. For it is by the consciousness has 'its present thoughts and actions, that it is self to itself low, i 1 so will be the same self, as far as the same consciousness can extend to actions past or known them formerly alive, and knew Ihemto be dead and buried. For if they had been those who had been dead so long, that all who kneAv them once alive were now gone, those to whom they appeared might have known them to be men, but could not have known they were risen from the dead, because they never knew they had been dead. All that by their appearing they could have known was, that they were so many living strangers, of whose resurrection they knew nothing. It was necessary, therefore, that they should come in such bodies as might in make and size, Sic. appear to be the same they had before, that they might be known to those of their acquaintance whom they appeared to. And it is proba- ble they were such us were newly dead, whose bodies were not yet dissolved and dissipated; and, therefore, it is particularly said here (differently from what is said of the general resurrection,) that their bodies arose ; because they were the same that were then lying in their graves the moment before they rose. But your lordship endeavours to prove it must +>e the same body: and let us grant that your lordship, nay, and others too, think you have proved it must be the same body ; will you therefore say, that he holds what is inconsistent with an article of faith, who having never seen this your lordship's interpretation of the Scripture, nor your reasons for the same body, in your sense of same body ; or, if he has seen them, yet not understanding them, or not perceiving the force of them, believes what the Scripture proposes to him, vis. that at the last day the dead shall be raised, without determining whether it shall be with the very same bodies or no ? I know your lordship pretends not to erect your particular interpretations of Scripture into articles of faith. And if you do not, he that believes the dead shall be raised believes that article of faith which the Scripture proposes ; and cannot bo accused of holding any thing inconsistent with it, if it should happen that what he holds is inconsistent with another proposition, vis. That the dead shall be raised with the same bodies, in your lordship's sense, which I do not find proposed in Holy Writ as an article of faith. But your lordship argues, it must be the same body; which, as you explain same body,* is not the same individual particles of matter which were united at the point of death, nor the same particles of matter that the sinner had at the time of the commission of his sins ; but that it must be the same material substance which was vitally united to the soul here ; i. e. as I understand it, the same indi- vidual particles of matter which were, some time or other during his life here, vitally united to his soul. Your first argument to prove that it must be the same body, in this sense of the same body, is taken from these words of our Saviour,t All that are in the graves shall hear his voice, and shall come forth. From whence your lordship argues, £ that these words, All that are in their graves, relate to no other substance than what was united to the soul in life : because a different substance cannot be said to be in the graves, and to come out of them. Which words of your lord- ship's, if they prove any thing, prove that the soul too is lodged in the grave, and raised out of it at the last day. For your lordship says, Can a different substance be said to be in the graves, and come out of them ? So that, according to this in- terpretation of these words of our Saviour, No other substance being raised, but what hears his voice ; and no other substance hearing his voice, but what, being called, comes out of the grave ; and no other substance coming out of the grave. but what was in the grave ; any one must conclude, that the soul, unless it be in the grave, will make no part of the person that is raised ; unless, as your lordship argues against me,5 you can make it out, that a substance which never was in the grave may come out of it, or that the soul is no substance. But setting aside the substance of the soul, another thing that will make any one doubt whether this your interpretation of our Saviour's words be necessarily to be received as their true sense, is, That it will not be very easily reconciled to your ;aying,|| you do not mean by the same body the same individual particles which were united at the point of death. And yet, by this interpretation of our Saviour's words, you can mean no other particles but such as were united at. the point of death; because you mean no other substance but what conies out of the grave ; and no substance, no particles come out, you say, but what were in the grave; and I think your lordship will not say, that the particles that were separate from the body by perspiration before the point of death were laid up in the grave. But your lordship, I find, has an answer to this, vis. 1 That by comparing thii -■-! Ansu • • n>jil 'Ibid 316 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. [eOOK II. •with ether places, you find that the words [of our Saviour above quoted] are to bo understood of the substance of the body, to which the soul was united, and not to (I suppose your lordship writ, of) these individual particles, i. e. those individual particles that are in the grave at the resurrection. For so they must be read, to make your lordship's sense entire, and to the purpose of your answer here : and then, methinks, this last sense of our Saviour's words given by your lordship, wholly overturns the sense which we have given of them above, where from those words you press the belief of the resurrection of the same body, by this strong argument, that a substance could not, upon hearing the voice of Christ, come out of the grave, which was never in the grave. There (as far as 1 can understand your words) your lordship argues, that our Saviour's words are to be understood of the particles in the grave, unless, as your lordship says, one can make it out that a substance which never was in the grave may come out of it. And here your lord- ship expressly says, That our Saviour's words are to be understood of the sub- stance of that body to which the soul was [at any time] united, and not to those individual particles that are in the grave. Which, put together, seems to me to say- that our Saviour's words are to be understood of those particles only that are in the grave, and not of those particles only which are iu the grave, but of others also, which have at any time been vitally united to the soul, but never were in the grave. The next text your lordship brings to make the resurrection of the same body, in your sense, an article of faith, are these words of St. Paul : *For we must all appear before the judgment-seat of Christ, that every one may receive the things done in his body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad. To which your lordship subjoins this question :t Can these words be understood of any other material substance but that body in which these things were done? Answer. A man may suspend his determining the meaning of the apostle to be, that a sinner shall suffer for his sins in the very same body wherein he committed them : because St. Paul does not say he shall have the very same body when he suf- fers that he had when he sinned. The apostle says indeed, done in his body. The body he had, and did things in, at five or fifteen, was, no doubt, his body, as much as that which he did things in at fifty was his body, though his body were not the very same body at those different ages ; and so will the body which he shall have after the resurrection be his body, though it be not the very same with that which he had at five, or fifteen, or fifty. He that at threescore is broke on the wheel, for a murder he committed at twenty, is punished for what he did in his body, though the body he has, i. e. his body at threescore, be not the same, i. e. made up of the same individual particles of matter, that that body was which he had forty years before. When your lordship has resolved with yourself what that same immutable he is, which at the last judgment shall receive the things done in his body, your lordship will easily see that the body he had when an embryo in the womb, when a child playing in coats, when a man marrying a wife, and when bed-rid dying of a consumption, and at last, which he shall have after his resurrec- tion, are each of them his body, though neither of them be the same body, the one with the other. But farther, to your lordship's question, Can these words be understood of any other material substance but that body in which these things were done ? I an- swer, These words of St. Paul may be understood of another material substance than that body in which these things were done, because your lordship teaches me, and gives me a strong reason so to understand them. Your lordship says, JThat you do not say the same particles of matter which the sinner had at the very time of the commission of his sins, shall be raised at the last day. And your lordship gives this reason for it : § For then a long sinner must have a vast body, considering the continual spending of particles by perspiration. Now, my lord, if the apostle's words, as your lordship would argue, cannot be understood of any other material substance, but that body in which these things were done ; and nobody, upon the removal or change of some of the particles that at any time make it up, is the same material substance, or the same body ; it will, I think, thence follow, that either the sinner must have all the same individual particles vitally united to his soul when he is raised that he had vitally united to his soul when he sinned, or else St. Paul's words here cannot be understood to mean the same body in which the things were done. For if there were other particles of matter in the body, where i> • , r V). iuwer. Ibid CH.' XXVII. J OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 317 the things were done, than in that which is raised, that which is raised cannot be the same body in which they were done : unless that alone, which has just all the same individual particles when any action is done, being the same body wherein it was done, that also, which has not the same individual particles wherein that action was (lone, can be the same body wherein it was done ; which is in effect to make the same body sometimes to be the same, and sometimes not the same. Your lordship thinks it suffices to make the same body to have not all, but no other particles of matter, but such as were some time or other vitally united to the soul before ; but such a body, made up of part of the particles some time or other vitally united to the soul, is no more the same body wherein the actions were done in the distant parts of the long sinner's life, than that is the same body in which a quarter, or half, or three-quarters of the same particles, that made it up, are wanting. For example, a sinner has acted here in his body an hundred years; he is raised at the last day, but with what body ? The same, says your lordship, that he acted in ; because St. Paul says, he must receive the things done in his body. What therefore must his body at the resurrection consist of? .vlust it consist of all the particles of matter that have ever been vitally united to his soul ? for they, in succession, have all of them made up his body wherein he did these things ; No, says your lordship,* that would make his body too vast ; it suffices to make the same body in which the things were done, that it consists of some of the particles, and no other, but such as were some time during his life vitally united to his soul. But according to this account, his body at the resur- rection being, as your lordship seems to limit it, near the same size it was in some part of his life, it will be no more the same body iu which the things were done in the distant parts of his life, than that is the same body in which half, or three quarters, or more of the individual matter that then made it up, is now wanting. For example, let his body at fifty years old consist of a million of parts; five hundred thousand at least of those parts will be different from those which made up his body at ten years, and at an hundred. So that to take the numerical particles that made up his body at fifty, or any other season of his life or to gather them promiscuously out of those which at different times have suc- cessively been vitally united to his soul, they will no more make the same body which was his, wherein some of his actions were done, than that is the same body which has but half the same particles : and yet all your lordship's argument here for the same body is, because St. Paul says it must be his body in which these things were done ; which it could not be if any other substance were joined to it. i. e. if any other particles of matter made up the body which were not vitally united to the soul when the action was done. Again, your lordship says,t '• That you do not say the same individual parti- cles [shall make up the body at the resurrection j which were united at the point of death, for there must be a great alteration in them in a lingering disease, as if a fat man falls into a consumption." Because it is likely your lordship thinks these particles of a decrepit, wasted, withered body would be too few, or unfit to make such a plump, strong, vigorous, well-sized body, as it has pleased your lordship to proportion out in your thoughts to men at the resurrection ; and therefore some small portion of the particles formerly united vitally to that man's soul shall be reas3umed,to make up his body to the bulk your lordship judges convenient; but the greatest part of them shall be left out, to avoid the making his body more vast than your lordship thinks will be fit, as appears by these your lordship's words immediately following, viz. j" That you do not say the same particles the sinner had at the very time of commission of his sins : for then a long sinner must have a vast body." But then pray, my lord, what must an embryo do, who dying within a k\v hours after his body was vitally united to his soul, has no particles of matter which were formerly vitally united to it, to make up his body of that size and pro- portion which your lordship seems to require in bodies :it the resurrection ? Or must we believe he shall remain content with that small pittance of matter, and that yet imperfect body to eternity, because it is an article of faith to believe the resurrection of the very same body, i. e. made up of only such particles as have been vitally united to the soul ? For if it be so, a- Iship says^ "That life is the result of the union of soul and body," it will follow, that the body of an embryo dying in the womb may be very little, not the thousandth part of any *."'l A"- ' [blifl. Oil. XXVII. J OF 1DKMITV AND DIVERSltl u21 y grains, contained in that little organized seminal plant, is every one of them the very same with that grain which contains that whole seminal plant and all those invisible grains in it. For then it will follow, that one grain is Uk- same with an hundred, and an hundred distinct grains the same with one : which 1 shall be able to assent to, when I can conceive, that all the wheat in the world is but one grain. For I beseech you, my lord, consider what it is St. Paul here speaks of: it is plain he speaks of that which is sown and dies, i. e. the grain that the husband- man takes out of his barn to sow in his Held. And of this grain St. Paul says, " that it is not that body that shall be." These two, viz. f that which is sown and that body that shall be,1' are all the bodies that St. Paul here speaks of to represent the agreement or difference of men's bodies alter the resurrection, with those they had before they died. Now, I crave leave to ask your lordship, which of these two is that little invisible seminal plant, which your lordship here speaks of? Does your lordship mean by it the grain that is sown ? But that is not what St. Paul speaks of; he could not mean this embryonated little plant, for he could not denote it by these words, "that which thou sowest," for that he says must die : but this little embryonated plant, contained in the seed that is sown, dies not ; or does your lordship mean by it, " the body that shall be ?" But neither by these words, "the body that shall be," can St. Paul be supposed to denote this insensible little embryonated plant ; for that is already in being, contained in the seed that is sown, and therefore could not be spoken of under the name of the body that shall be. And therefore, I confess, I cannot see of what use it is to your lordship to introduce here this third body, which St. Paul mentions not, and to make that the same, or not the same with auy other, when those which St Paul speaks of, are, as I humbly conceive, these two visible sensible bodies, Ur* grain sown, and the corn grown up to ear : with neither of which this insensible embryonated plant can be the same body, unless an insensible body can be the *ame body with a sensible body, and a little body can be the same body with one ten thousand, or an hundred thousand times as big as itself. So that yet, I con- fess, I see not the resurrection of the same body proved, from these words, of St Paul, to be an article of faith. Your lordship goes on : a " St. Paul indeed saith, That we sow not that body that shall be ; but he speaks not of the identity, but the perfection of it." Here my understanding fails me again : for I cannot understand St. Paul to say. That the same identical sensible grain of wheat, which was sown at seed-time, is the very same with every grain of wheat, in the ear at harvest, that sprang from it : yet so { must understand it, to make it prove, that the same sensible body, that is laid in the grave, shall be the very same with that which shall be raised at the resurrec- tion. For I do not know of any seminal body in little, contained in the dead carcass of any man or woman, which, as your lordship says, in seeds, having its proper organical parts, shall afterward be enlarged, and at the resurrection grow up into the same man. For I never thought of any seed, or seminal parts, either of plant or animal, "so wonderfully improved by the providence of God,'" whereby the same plant or animal should beget itself; nor ever heard, that it was by divine Providence designed to produce the same individual, but for the producing of future and distinct individuals for the continuation of tire same species. Your lordship's next words are, b " and although there be such a difference !rom the grain itself, when it comes up to be perfect corn, with root, stalk, blade, md ear, that it may be said to outward appearance not to be the same body ; 3 et with regard to the seminal and organical parts, it is as much the same, as a man grown up, is the same with the embryo in the womb." Answer. It does not appear by any thing I can find in the text, that St. Paul here compared the body produced, with the seminal and organical parts contained in the grain it -prang from, but with the whole sensible gra.n that Was grown. Microscopes had not then discovered the little embryo plant in the seed : and supposing it -iiould have been revealed to St. Paul", (though in the Scripture we (ind little revelation of natural philosophy.) yet an argument taken from a thing perfectly unknown to the Corinthians whom he writ to, could be of no manner of use to them : nor serve at all either to instruct or to convince them. But granting that those St. Paul writ to, knew it as well as Mr. Lewenhoek ; yet your lordship a 2d Aus. b lb. Vol. I- -11 o22 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY." [BO0K If. thereby proves not the raising of the same body ; your lordship says, it is as much 'the same [I crave leave to add body] " as a man grown up is the same" (same what, I beseech your lordship ?) " with the embryo in the womb." For that the body of the embryo in the womb, and body of the man grown up, is the same body, I think no one. will say ; unless he can persuade himself, that a body that is not the hundredth part of another, is the same with that other ; which I think no one will do, till having renounced this dangerous way by ideas of think- ing and reasoning, he has learnt to say, that a part and the whole are the j-amc. Your lordship, goes on, c " And although many arguments may be used to nrove, that a man is not the same, because life, which depends upon the course of the blood, and the manner of respiration, and nutrition, is so different in both states; yet that man would be thought ridiculous, that should seriously affirm, That it was not the same man." And your lordship says, " I grant that the varia- tion of great parcels of matter in plants, alters not the identity : and that the organization of the parts in one coherent body, partaking of one common life, makes the identity of a plant." Answer. My lord, I think the question is not about the same man, but the same body. For though I do say, d (somewhat dif- ferently from what your lordship sets down as my words here) " That that which has such an organization, as is fit to receive and distribute nourishment, so as to continue and frame the wood, bark, and leaves, Sic. of a plant, in which consists the vegetable life, continues to be the same plant, as long as it partakes of the same life, though that life be communicated to new particles of matter, vitally united to the living plant ;" yret I do not remember, that I any where say, That a plant, which was once no bigger than an oaten straw, and afterward grows to he above a fathom about, is the same body, though it be still the same plant. The well-known tree in Epping Forest, called the King's Oak, which from not weighing an ounce at first, grew to have many tons of timber in it, was all along the same oak, the very same plant ; but nobody, I think, will say that it was the tame body when it weighed a ton, as it was when it weighed but an ounce, unless he has a mind to signalize himself by saying, That that is the same body, which has a thousand particles of different matter in it, for one particle that is the same ; which is no better than to say, That a thousand different particles are but one aud the same particle, and one and the same particle is a thousand differ- ent particles ; a thousand times a greater absurdity, than to say half is whole, or ♦he whole is the same with the half; which will be improved ten thousand times yet farther, if a man shall say (as your lordship seems to me to argue here) That that groat oak is the very same body with the acorn it sprang from, because there was in that acorn an oak in little, which was afterward (as your lordship expres- ses it) so much enlarged, as to make that mighty tree. For this embryo, if I may so rail it, or oak in little, being not the hundredth, or perhaps the thousandth part ff>( the acorn, and the acorn being not the thousandth part of the grown oak, it will be very extraordinary to prove the acorn and the grown oak to be the same body, by a way wherein it cannot be pretended that above one particle of an hun- dred thousand, or a million, is the same in the one body, that it was in the other. From which way of reasoning, it will folloAV, that a nurse and her sucking child have the same body, and be past doubt,that a mother and her infant have the same body. But this is a way of certainty found out to establish the articles of faith, and to overturn the' new method of certainty that your lordship says, "I have started, which is apt to leave men's minds more doubtful than before." And now I desire your lordship to consider of what use it is to you in the present case, to quote out of my essay these words, " That partaking of one com- * mon life, makes the identity of a plant ;" since the question is not about the identity of a plant, but about the identity of a body; it being a very different thing to be the same plant, and to be the same body. For that which makes the same plant, does not make the same body; the one being the partaking in the same continued vegetable life, the other the consisting of the same numerical par- ticles of matter. And therefore your lordship's inference from my words above quoted, in these which you subjoin, e seems to me a very strange one, viz. " So that in things capable of any sort of life, the identity is consistent with a continued -■accession of parts ; and so the wheat grown up is the same body with the grain that was sown." For I believe, if my words, from which you infer, "And «<■ e ?il Aar " So that there is no difficulty as to the sameness of the body, if life were continued ; and if, by divine power, life be restored to that material substance which was before united, by a reunion of the soul to it, there is no reason to deny the identity of the bod}*, not from the consciousness of the soul, but from that life which is the result of the union of the soul and body." If I understand your lordship right, you in these words, from the passage- above quoted out of my book, argue, that from those words of mine it will follow, that it is or may be the same body, that is raised at the resurrection. It so, tny lord, your lordship has then prove!, that my book is not inconsistent with. but eonformable to this article of the resurrection of the same body, which your lordship contends for, and will have to lie an article ol faith ; for though I do by no means deny that the same bodies shall be raised at the last day, yet 1 see nothing your lordship has said to prove it to be an article of faith. But your lordship goes on with your proofs, and says, ' " but St. Paul still sup- poses, that it must he that material stbstance to which the soul was before uni ted. For, saith he, " it is sown in corruption, it is raised in incorruplion, ii is sown in dishonour, it is raised in glory : it is sown in weakness, it is raised iu power: it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body*" Can such a material substance, which was never united to the body, be said to be sown in corruption, and weakness, and dishonour? cither, therefore, lie must speak oi the same body, or his meaning cannot be comprehended." 1 answer, "Can such u material substance, which was never laid in the grave, be said l<> be sown," foe' For your lordship says, k " You do not say the same individual particle*, which were united at the point of death, shall be raised at the last day ;" and no other particles are laid in the grave, but such as are united at the point oi death ; eithei therefore your lordship mu I speak of .another body; different from that which »wn, which shall be raise I, or else your meaning, 1 think, cannot be com- : ii ehended. But whatever be your meaning, your lordship proves it to be St. Paul's mean- ;. 1'iial the game bpdy shall be raised, which was sown, in these following words, f" For what does all this relate lO a conscious principle:* Answer. The Scripture being express, that the same person should be raised and appear before the judgment-geai of Christ, that every one may receive according to what be had done in bis body; it was very well suited to common apprehensions (which refined not about " particles that ha 1 been vitally unite! to the soul") to speak of the body winch each one*%as to have after the resurrection, as he would be apt to speak of it himself. For it being his body both before aud after the resnrreolion f Qrl Answer. p llji.t. lilbi.1. i Jbitl k fh'o-ovrcn all alon0-, and not o-wy.tTX., Viodics ; which one may with reason think would some where or other have been expressed, if all this had been said to propose it as an article of faith, that the very same bodies should be raised. The same manner of speaking the spirit of God observes all through the New Testament, where it is paid, r "raise the dead, quicken or make alive the dead, the resurrection of the dead." Nay, these very words of our Saviour, s urged by your lordship^for the m 2d Ans. n Ibid. o Ibid. p 1 Cor. xv. q V. 15, 22, 23, 29, 32, 35, 52. r Matt. xiii. SI. Mark xii. 26. John v. 21. Acts xvi. 7. Rom. iv. 17. 2 Cor. i. 9. 1 ThesS! ir. 14, lft s Johp v. 28, 29. OH. XXVII.] OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 325 resurrection of the same body, run thus, Havre; ot tv to« f*vny.uoK axjKTovvau «r?r ;. Would not a well-meaning; searcher of the Scriptures be apt to think, that if the thing here intended by our Saviour were to teach, and propose it as an article of faith, necessary to be believed by every one, that the very same bodies of the dead should be raised ; would not, I say, any one be apt to think, that if our Saviour meant so, the words should rather have been, vaunt -ra v-atfAaT* a i tv rot; fAvn/uuei;, i. e. "all the bodies that are in the graves," rather than " all who are in the graves ;" which must denote persons, and not precisely bodies ? Another evidence, that St. Paul makes a distinction between the dead and the bodies of the dead, so that the dead cannot be taken in this, 1 Cor. xv. to stand precisely for the bodies of the dead, are these words of the apostle, * " but some men will say, how are the dead raised? And with what bodies do they come ?:' Which words, " dead" and " they," if supposed to stand precisely for the bodies of the dead, the question will run thus : " How are the dead bodies raised ? And with what bodies do the dead bodies come?" Which seems to have no very agreeable sense. This therefore being so, that the Spirit of God keeps so expressly to this phrase, or form of speaking in the New Testament, "of raising, quickening, rising, resurrection, r.S"v ii V. "A x2J Ajis. 326 9F IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. [BOOK II. here, makes it so much as probable ; What is all this to me ? Yes, says your lord- shi p in the following words, a " My idea of personal identity is inconsistent with it, for it makes the same body which was here united to the soul, not to be neces- sary to the doctrine of the resurrection. B ut any material substance united to the same principle of consciousness, makes the same body." This is an argument of your lordship's which I am obliged to answer to. But is it not fit I should first understand it, before I answer it ? Now here I do not well know what it is, " to make a thing not to be necessary to the doctrine of the re- surrection." But to help myself out the best I can, with a guess, I will conjecture (which, in disputing with learned men, is not very safe) your lordship's meaning is, that " my idea of personal identity makes it not necessary," that for the rais- ing the same person, the body should be the same. Your lordship's next word is " but ;" to which I am ready to reply, But whatf What does my idea of personal identity do ? For something of that kind the ad- versative particle " but" should, in the ordinary construction of our language, introduce, to make the proposition clear and intelligible : but here is no such thing. " But," is one of your lordship's privileged particles, which I must not meddle with, for fear your lordship complain of me again, " as so severe a critic, that for the least ambiguity in any particle fill up pages in my answer, to make my book look considerable for the bulk of it." But since this proposition here, " my idea of personal identity makes the same body which was here united to the soul, not necessary to the doctrine of the resurrection : but any material sub- stance being united to the same principle of consciousness, makes the same body,'" is brought to prove my idea of personal identity inconsistent with the article of the resurrection ; I must make it out in some direct sense or other, that I may see whether it be both true and conclusive. I therefore venture to read it thus : 11 ' My idea of personal identity makes tiie same body which was here united to the soul, not to be necessary at the resurrection ; but allows, that any material substance being united to the same principle of consciousness, makes the same body. Ergo, my idea of personal identity is inconsistent with the article of the resurrection of the same body." If this be your lordship's sense in this passage, as I here have guessed it to be, or else I know not what it is, I answer, 1. That my idea of personal identity does not allow, that any material sub- stance, being united to the same principle of consciousness, makes the same body. I say no such thing in my book, nor any thing from whence it may be inferred ; and your lordship would have done me a favour to haveset down the words where I say so, or those from which you mfer so, and showed how it follows from any thing I have said. 2. Granting, that it were a consequence from my idea of personal identity, that " any material substance, being united to the same principle of consciousness, makes the same body ; this would not prove thai my idea of personal identity was inconsistent with this proposition, " that the same body shall be raised," but, on the contrary, affirms it : since, if I affirm, as I do, that the same person shall be raised, and it be a consequence o! my idea of personal identity, that " any mate- rial substance being united to the same principle of consciousness, makes the same body ;" it follows, that if the sane person be raised, the same body must be raised ; and so I have herein said nothing inconsistent with the resurrection of the same body, but have said more for it than your lordship. For there can be nothing plainer, than that in the Scripture it is revealed, that the same persons shall be raised, and appear before the judgment-seat of Christ, to answer for what they have done in their bodies, [f therefore whatever matter be joined to the princi- ple of consciousness makes the same body, it is demonstration, that if the same persons are raised, they have the same bodies. How then your lordship makes this an inconsistency with the resurrection is beyond my conception. " Yes," says your lordship, ^"it is inconsistent with it. for it makes the body which wa ■ here united to the soul, not to be mcessary." 3. 1 answer, therefore, thirdly, That this is the first time I ever learnt, that " not necessary" was the same with " inconsistent." I say, that a body made up of the same numerical parts of matter, is not necessary to the making of the same person; from whence it will indeed follow, that to the resurrection of the same person, the same numerical particles of matter are not required. What does youi CH. XXVII.] OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. $27 lordship infer from hence ? To wit, this : Therefore he who thinks, that the same particles of matter are not necessary to the making of the same person, cannot believe, that the same person shall be raised with bodies made of the very same particles of matter, if God should reveal, that it shall be so, viz. That the same persons shall be raised with the same bodies they had before. Which is all one as to say, that he who thought the blowing of rams' horns was not necessary ia itself to the falling down of the w;dls of Jericho, could not believe, that they should fall upon the blowing of rams' horns, when God had declared it should be so. Your lordship says, " my idea of personal identity is inconsistent with the article af the resurrection :" the reason you ground it on, is this, because it makes not the same body necessary to the making the same person. Let us grant your lordship's consequence to be good, what will follow from it ? No less than this, that your lord- ship's notion (for I dare not say your lordship has any so dangerous things as ideas) of personal identity, is inconsistent with the article of the resurrection. The de- monstration of it is thus : your lordship says, e f* It is not necessary that the body, to be raised at the last day, should consist of the same particles of matter which were united at the point of death ; for there must be a great alteration in them in a lingering disease, as if a fat man falls into a consumption : you do not say the same particles which the sinner had at the very time of commission of his sins ; for then a long sinner must have a vast body, considering the continual spending of particles by perspiration." And again, here your lordship says, ' " You allow the notion of personal identity to belong to the same man under several changes of matter." From which words it is evident, that your lordship supposes a person in this world may be continued and preserved the same in a body not consisting of the same individual particles of matter ; and hence it demonstratively follows, That let your lordship's notion of personal identity be what it will, it makes " the same body not to be necessary to the same person ;" and therefore it is by your lordship's rule inconsistent with the article of the resurrection. When your lord- ship shall think fit to clear your own notion of personal identity from this inconsis- tency with the article of the resurrection, I do not doubt but my idea of personal identity will be thereby cleared too. — Till then, all inconsistency with that article, which your lordship has here charged on mine, will unavoidably fall upon your lordship's too. But for the clearing of both, give me leave to say, my lord, that whatsoever is not necessary, does not thereby become inconsistent. It is not necessary to the vame person, that his body should always consist of the same numerical particles ; this is demonstration, because the particles of the bodies of the same persons in this life change every moment, and your lordship cannot deny it : and yet this makes it not inconsistent with God's preserving, if he thinks fit, to the same persons, bodies consisting of the same numerical particles always from the resurrection to eternity. — And so likewise though I say any thing that supposes it not necessary, that the same numerical particles, which were vitally united to the soul in this life, should be reunited to it, at the resurrection, and constitute the body it shall then have ; yet it is not inconsistent with this, that God may, if he pleases, give to every one a body consisting only of such particles as were before vitally united to his soul. And thus, I think, I have cleared my book from all that inconsistency which your lordship charges on it, and would persuade the world it has with the article of the resurrection of the dead. Only before I leave it, 1 will set down the remainder of what your lordship says upon this head, that though I see not the coherence nor tendency of it, no* the force of any argument in it against me ; yet that nothing may be omitted that your lordship has thought fit to entertain your reader with on this new point, nor any one have reason to suspect, that I have passed by an/ word of your lordship's (on this now first introduced subject) wherein he might find your lordship had proved what you had promised in your title page. Your remaining words arc these : &"The dispute is not how far personal identity in itself may consist in the very same material substance ; for we allow the notion of personal iden- tity to belong to the same man under several changes of matter ; but whether it doth not depend upon a vital union between the soul and body, and th'- liic, which is consequent upon it ; and therefore in the resurrection, the same ma- terial substance must be reunited, or else it cannot be 'ailed a resurrection, but ;t renovation, ?'. e. it may be a new life, but not a raising the body from th' e24 A'.-. t" Ibid. B h>M 2t>4 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. [BOOK II. dead." I confess, I do not see how what is here ushered in by the words " and therefore," is a consequence from the preceding words : but as to the propriety of the name, 1 think it will not be much questioned, that if the same man rise who was dead, it may very properly be called the resurrection of the dead ; which is the language of the Scripture. I must not part with this article of the resurrection, without returning my thanks to your lordship for making me h take notice of a fault in my essay. When I wrote that book, I took it for granted, as I doubt not but many otiiers have done, that the Scripture had mentioned, in express terms, " the resurrection of the body." But upon the occasion your lordship has give me in your last letter, to look a little more narrowly into what revelation has declared concern- ing the resurrection, and finding no such express words in the Scripture, as that " the body shall rise or be raised, or the resurrection of the body." I shall in the next edition of it, change these words of my book, • " The dead bodies of men shall rise," into these of the Scripture, " The dead shall rise." Not that I question, that the dead shall be raised with bodies ; but in matters of reve- lation, I think is not only safest, but our duty, us far as any one delivers it for revelation, to keep close to the words of the Scripture, unless he will assume to himself the authority of one inspired, or make himself wiser than the Holy spirit himself. If I had spoke of the resurrection in precisely scripture terms, I had avoided giving your lordship the occasion of making k here such a verbal reflection on my words ; " What ! not if there be an idea of identity as u the body?" h 2d Ans< i I Essay, D. 4 0. 18. § 7. k2d Ap.s. m CHAPTER XXVII) OF OTHER RELATIONS. § 2. PROPORTIONAL. Besides the before-mentioned occasions of time, place, and easuality of comparing, or referring things one to another, there are, as I have said, infinite others, some whereof I shall mention. First, The first 1 shall name, is some one simple idea ; which being capable of parts or degrees, affords an occasion of compa- ring the subjects wherein it is to one another, in respect of that simple idea, v. g. whiter, sweeter, bigger, equal, more, &c. These relations depending on the equality and excess of the same simple idea, in several subjects, may be called, if one will, proportional : and that these are only conversant about those simple ideas received from sensation or reflection, is s<» evident, that nothing need be said to evince it. § 2. NATURAL. Secondly, Another occasion of comparing things together, or considering one thing, so as to include in that consideration some other thing, is the circumstances of their origin or beginning ; which being not afterward to be altered, make the relations de- pending thereon as lasting as the subjects to which they belong; z>. g. father and son, brothers, cousin-germans, &c. which have their relations by one community of blood, wherein they partake in several degrees ; countrymen, i. e. those who were born in the same country, or tract of ground ; and these I call natural relations; wherein we may observe, that mankind have fitted their notions and words to the use of common life, and not to the truth and extent of things. For it is certain, that in reality the relation is the same betwixt the begetter and the begotten, in the several races of other animals as well as men : but yet it is sel- dom said, this bull is the grandfather of such a calf: or that two pigeons are cousin-germans. It is very convenient, that by dis- tinct names these relations should be observed, and marked out in mankind ; there being occasion, both in laws, and other com- munications one with another, to mention and take notice of men under these relations: from whence also arise the obligations of several duties among men. Whereas in brutes, men having very little or no cause to mind these relations, they have not thought tit to give them distinct and peculiar names. This, by the way, may give us some light into the different state and growth of languages; which, being suited only to the convenience of com- munication, are proportioned to the notions men have, and the commerce of thoughts familiar among them ; and not to the reality or extent of things, nor to the various respects mi 330 OF MORAL RELATIONS. [BOOK IT. found among them, nor the different abstract considerations might he framed about them. Where they had no philosophical no- lions, there they had no terms to express them : and it is no wonder men should have framed no names for those things they found no occasion to discourse of. From whence it is easy to imagine, why, as in some countries, they may have not so much sis the name for a horse ; and in others, where they are more careful of the pedigrees of their horses, than of their own, that there they may have not only names for particular horses, but also of their several relations of kindred one to another. § 3. INSTITUTED. Thirdly, Sometimes the foundation of considering things, with reference to one another, is some act whereby any one comes by a moral right, power, or obligation to do something. Thus, a general is one that hath power to command an army: and an army under a general is a collection of armed men obliged to obey one man. A citizen, or a burgher, is one who has a right to certain privileges in this or that place. All this sort depend- ing upon men's wills, or agreement in society, I call instituted, or voluntary ; and may be distinguished from the natural, in that they are most, if not all of them, some way or other alterable, ;ind separable from the persons to whom they have sometimes belonged, though neither of the substances, so related, be de- stroyed. Now, though these are all reciprocal, as well as the rest, and contain in them a reference of two things one to the other ; yet, because one of the two things often wants a relative name, importing that reference, men usually take no notice of it, and the relation is commonly overlooked: v. g. a patron and client arc easily allowed to be relations, but a constable or dic- tator are not so readily, at first hearing, considered as such ; be- cause there is no peculiar name for those who are under the command of a dictator, or constable, expressing a relation to either of them ; though it be certain, that either of them hath a certain power over some others ; and so is so far related to them, as well as a patron is to his client, or general to his army. § 4. MORAL. Fourthly, There is another sort of relation, which is the con- formity, or disagreement, men's voluntary actions have to a rule to which they are referred, and by which they are judged of; which, 1 think, may be called moral relation, as being that which denominates our moral actions, and deserves well to be examined ; there being no part of knowledge wherein we should be more careful to get determined ideas, and avoid, as much as may be, obscurity and confusion. Human actions, when with their various ends, objects, manners, and circumstances, they are framed mto distinct complex ideas, are, as has been shown, so many mixed modes, a great part whereof have names annexed to them. Thus, supposing gratitude to he a readiness to acknowledge and return CH. XXVIII. J OF MORAL RELATIONS ,131 kindness received, polygamy to be the having more wives than one at once ; when we frame these notions thus in our minds, we have there so many determined ideas of mixed modes. But this is not all that concerns our actions ; it is not enough to have determined ideas of them, and to know what names belong to such and such combinations of ideas. We have a far- ther and greater concernment, and that is, to know whether such actions, so made up, are morally good or bad. 6 5. MORAL GOOD AND EVIL. Good and evil, as hath been shown, B. II. Ch. 20, § ?. and Ch. 21, § 42. are nothing but pleasure or pain, or that which occa- sions or procures pleasure or pain to us. Moral good and evil then is only the conformity or disagreement of our voluntary actions to some law, whereby good or evil is drawn on us by the will and power of the law-maker ; which good and evil, pleasure or pain, attending our observance, or breach of the law, by the decree of the law-maker, is that we call reward and punish- ment. § 6. MORAL RULES. Of these moral rules, or laws, to which men generally refer, and by which they judge of the rectitude or pravity of their actions, there seem to me to be three sorts, with their three dif- ferent enforcements, or rewards and punishments. For since it would be utterly in vain to suppose a rule set to the free actions of men, without annexing to it some enforcement of good and evil to determine his will, we must, wherever we suppose a law, suppose also some reward or punishment annexed to that law. It would be in vain for one intelligent being to set a rule to the actions of another, if he had it not in his power to reward the compliance with, and punish deviation from his rule, by some good and evil, that is not the natural product and consequence of the action itself. For that being a natural convenience, or inconvenience, would operate of itself without a law. This, if I mistake not, is the true nature of all law, propei'ly so called. § 7. LAWS. The laws that men generally refer their actions to, to judge of their rectitude, or obliquity seem tome to be these three. 1. The divine law. 2. The civil law. 3. The law of opinion or re- putation, if I may so call it. By the relation they bear to the first of these, men judge whether their actions are sins or duties ; by the second, whether they be criminal or innocent ; and by the third, whether they be virtues or vices. § 8. DIVINE LAW, THE MEASURE OF SIN AND DUTY. Fir*t, The divine law, whereby I mean that law which God has set to the actions of men, whether promulgated to them by 332 OF MORAL RELATIONS*. .[BOOK II. the light of nature, or the voice of revelation. That God has given a rule whereby men should govern themselves, I think there is nobody so brutish as to deny. He has a right to do it : we are his creatures : he has goodness and wisdom to direct eur actions to that which is best ; and he has power to en- force it by rewards and punishments, of infinite weight and dura- tion, in another life ; for nobody can take us out of his hands. This is the only true touchstone of moral rectitude, and by com- paring them to this law, it is that men judge of the most consi- derable moral good or evil of their actions ; that is, whether as duties or sins, they are like to procure them happiness or mi- sery from the hands of the Almighty. § 9. CIVIL LAW, THE MEASURE OF CRIMES AND INNOCENCE. Secondly, The civil law, the rule set by the commonwealth to the actions of those who belong to it, is another rule, to which men refer their actions, to judge whether they be cri- minal or no. This law nobody overlooks ; the rewards and punishments that enforce it being ready at hand, and suitable to the power that makes it; which is the force of the common- wealth, engaged to protect the lives, liberties, and possessions of those who live according to its laws, and has power to take away life, liberty, or goods, from him who disobeys : which i? the punishment of offences committed against this law. $ 10. PHILOSOPHICAL LAW, THE MEASURE OF VIRTUE AND VICE. Thirdly, The law of opinion or reputation. Virtue and vice are names pretended and supposed every where to stand for actions in their own nature right and wrong ; and as far as they really are so applied, they so far are coincident with the divine law above mentioned. But yet whatever is pretended, (his is visible, that these names virtue and vice, in the particular instan- ces of their application, through the several nations and societies of men in the world, are constantly attributed only to such ac- tions, as in each country and society are in reputation or dis- credit. Nor is it to be thought strange, that men every where should give the name of virtue to those actions, which among them are judged praise-worthy ; and call that vice, which they account blamable : since otherwise they would condemn them- selves if they should think any thing right, to which they allowed not commendation : any thing wrong which they let pass with- out blame. Thus the measure of what is every where called and esteemed virtue and vice, is the approbation or dislike, praise or blame, which by a secret and tacit consent establishes itself in the several societies, tribes, and clubs of men in the world ; whereby several actions come to find credit or disgrace among them according to the judgment, maxims, or fashions of that place. For though men, uniting to politic societies, have resigned up to the public the disposing of all their force. eo that CH. XXVIII.] OF MORAL RELATIONS- 333 they cannot employ it against any fellow-citizens any farther than the law of the country directs ; yet they retain stiil the power of thinking well or ill, approving or disapproving of the actions of those whom they live among, and converse with : and by this approbation and dislike, they establish among themselves what they will call virtue and vice. §11. That this is the common measure of virtue and vice, will ap- pear to any one who considers, that though that passes for vice in one country, which is counted a virtue, or at least not vice in another, yet, every where, virtue and praise, vice and blame, go together. Virtue is every where that which is thought praise- worthy ; and nothing else but that which has the allowance of public esteem, is called virtue.* Virtue and praise are so uni- ted, that they are often called by the same name. Sunt sua prcemia luudi. says Virgil ; and so Cicero, Nihil habet naiura prcBstantius, quam honestatem, qnam laudem, quam dignitatem, * Our author, in his preface to the fourth edition, taking notice how apt men have been to mistake him, added what here follows: Of this the ingenious author of the discourse concerning the nature of man has given me a late instance, to mention no other. For the civility of his expressions, and the can- dour that belongs to his order, forbid me to think, that he would have closed his preface with an insinuation, as if in what I had said, book ii. chap. 28, concern- ing the third rule which men refer their actions to, I went about to make virtue vice, and vice virtue, unless he had mistaken my meaning ; which he could not have done, if he had but given himself the trouble to consider what the argu- ment was I was then upon, and what was the chief design of that chapter, plainly enough set down in the fourth section, and those following. For I was there not laying down moral rules, but showing the original and nature of moral ideas, and enumerating the rules men make use of in moral relations, whether those rules were true or false : and, pursuant thereunto, 1 tell what has every where that denomination, which in the language of that place answers to virtue and vice in ours ; which alters not the nature of things, though men do generally .judge of, and denominate their actions according to the esteem and fashion of the place, or sect they are of. If he had been at the. pains to reflect on what I had said, b. i. c. 3. (, 18. and in this present chapter, $ 13, 14, 15, and 20, he would have known what I think of the eternal and unalterable nature of right and wrung, and what I call virtue and vice : and if he had observed, that in the place he quotes, I only report as matter of fact what others call virtue and vice, he would not have found it. liable to any great exception. For, I think, I am not much out in saving, that one of the rules made use of in the world, for a ground or measure of a moral relation, is that esteem and reputation which several sorts of actions find variously in the several societies of men, according to which they are there called virtues ov vices : and whatever authority the learned Mr. Lowde places in his old English Dictionary, I dare say it nowhere tells him (if I should appeal to it) that the same action is not in credit, called and counted a virtue in one place, which being in disrepute, passes for and under tin name of vice in another. The taking notice that men bestow the names of virtue and vice according to this rule of reputation, is all I have done, or can be laid to my charge to have done, towards the making vice virtue, and virtue vice. But the good man does well, and as becomes his calling, to be watchful in such point:-, and to lake the alarm, even at expressions, which standing alone by themselves might sound ill, and be suspected. It is to this zeal, allowable in his function, that 1 forgive his citing, as he does, these words of mine, in } 11, of this chapter ; " The exhortations of inspired t.-achcrs have not feared to uppeal to common repute : ' Whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report, if there beany virtue, if there, bean ^ Sol OF MOKAL RELATIONS. [BOOK II. (juam decus ; which, he tells us, are all names for the same thing, Tusc. lib. ii. This is the language of the heathen philosophers, who well understood wherein their notions of virtue and vice consisted, and though perhaps by the different temper, education, fashion, maxims, or interests of different sorts of men, it fell out that what was thought praise-worthy in one place, escaped not censure in another ; and so in different societies, virtues and vices were changed ; yet, as to the main, they for the most part kept the same every where. For since nothing can be more natural praise, &c. Phil. iv. 8." without taking notice of those immediately preceding', which introduce them, and run thus : " whereby in the corruption of manners, the true boundaries of the law of nature, which ought to be the rule of virtue and vice, were pretty well preserved; so that even the exhortations of inspired teachers,'" &c. by which words, and the rest of that section, it is plain that 1 brought that passage of St. Paul, not to prove that the general measure of what men call virtue and vice, throughout the world, was the reputation and fashion of each particular society within itself; but to show, that though it were so, yet for reasons I there give, men, in that way of denominating their actions, did not for, the most part, much vary from the law of nature : which is that standing and unalterable rule, by which they ought to judge of the moral rectitude and pravity of their actions, and accordingly denominate them virtues or vices. Had Mr. Lowde consi- dered this, he would have found it little to his purpose to have quoted Uiat pas- sage in a sense I used it not ; and would, I imagine, have spared the explication he subjoins to it, as not very necessary. But 1 hope this second edition will give him satisfaction in the point, and that this matter is now so expressed, as to show him there was no cause of scruple. Though I am forced to differ from him in those apprehensions he has expressed in the latter end of his preface, concerning what I had said about virtue and vice ; yet we are better agreed than he thinks, in what he says in his third chapter, p. 78. concerning natural inscription and innate notions. I shall not deny him the privilege he claims, p. 52. to state the question as he pleases, especially when he states it so, as to leave nothing in it contrary to what I have said ; for, according to him, innate notions being conditional things, depending upon the concurrence of several other circumstances, in order to the soul's exerting them : all that he says for innate, imprinted, impressed notions (for of innate ideas he says nothing at all) amounts at last only to this : that there are certain propositions, which though the soul from the beginning, or when a man is born, does not know, yet by assistance from the outward senses, and the help of some previous cultivation, it may afterward come certainly to know the truth of; which: is no more than what I have affirmed in my first book. For 1 suppose, by the soul's exerting them, he means its beginning to know them, or else the soul's exerting of notions will be to me a very unintelligible expression ; and I think at best is a very unfit one in this case, it misleading men's thoughts by an insinuation, a3 if these no- tions were in the mind before the soul exerts them, i. e. before they are known ; whereas truly before they are known, there is nothing of them in the mind, but u capacity to know them, when the concurrence of those circumstances, which this ingenious author thinks necessary in order to the soul's exerting them, brings them into our knowledge. P. 52. I find him express it thus ; " these natural notions are not so imprinted upon the soul, as that they naturally and necessarily exert themselves (even in children and idiots) without any assistance from the outward seuses, or without ihehelp of some previous cultivation." Here, he says, they exert themselves, as p. 78. that the soul exerts them. When he has explained to himself or others what he means by the soul's exerting innate notions, or their exerting themselves, and what that previous cultivation and circumstances, in order to their being exerted, arc ; he will, I suppose, find there is so little of controversy between him and me in the point, bating that he calls that exerting of notions which I in a more vulgar style call knowing, that I have reason to think he brought in my name upon this occasion only out of the pleasure he has to speak civillyol me : which I must gratefully acknowledge he has done wherever he mentions me, not without conferring on me. as some other- have done, a title I have no right to. CH. XXVIII.] OF MORAL RELATIONS. 6oO than to encourage with esteem and reputation that wherein every one finds his advantage, and to blame and discountenance the contrary ; it is no wonder that esteem and discredit, virtue and vice, should in a great measure every where correspond with the unchangeable rule of right and wrong, which the law of God hath established : there being nothing that so directly and visi- bly secures and advances the general good of mankind in this world, as obedience to the laws he has set them ; and nothing that breeds such mischiefs and confusion, as the neglect of them. And therefore men, without renouncing all sense and reason, and their own interest, which they are so constantly true to, could not generally mistake in placing their commendation and blame on that side that really deserved it not. Nay, even those men whose practice was otherwise, failed not to give their approbation right ; few being depraved to that degree, as not to condemn, at least in others, the faults they themselves were guilty of: where- by, even in the corruption of manners, the true boundaries of the law of nature, which ought to be the rule of virtue and vice, were pretty well preferred. So that even the exhortations of inspired teachers have not feared to appeal to common repute : " What- soever is lovely, whatsoever is of good report, if there be any virtue, if there be any praise," &c. Phil. iv. 8. § 12. ITS ENFORCEMENTS, COMMENDATION, AND DISCREDIT. If any one shall imagine that 1 have forgot my own notion of a law, when 1 make the law whereby men judge of virtue and vice, to be nothing else but the consent of private men, who have not authority enough to make a law; especially wanting that, which is so necessary and essential to a law, a power to enforce it : I think I may say, that he who imagines commenda- tion and disgrace not to be strong motives to men, to accommo- date themselves to the opinions and rules of those with whom they converse, seems little skilled in the nature or history of mankind : the greatest part whereof he shall find to govern themselves chiefly, if not solely, by this law of fashion ; and so they do that which keeps them in reputation with their company, little regard the laws of God, or the magistrate. The penalties that attend the breach of God's laws, some, nay perhaps most men, seldom seriously reflect on ; and among those that do, many, whilst they break that law, entertain thoughts of future reconciliation, and making their peace for such breaches. And as to the punishments due from the laws of the commonwealth, they frequently flatter themselves with the hopes of impunity. But no man escapes the punishment of their censure and dislike, who offends against the fashion and opinion of the company he keeps, and would recommend himself to. Nor is there one of ten thousand, who is stiifand insensible enough to bear up under the constant dislike and condemnation of his own club. He must be of a strange and unusual constitution, who can content himself to live in constant disgrace and disrepute with hi? own 3JU OF MORAL RELATIONS. [BOOK II. particular society. Solitude many men have sought, and been reconciled to : but nobody, that lias the least thought or sense of a man about him, can live in society under the constant dis- like and ill opinion of his familiars, and those he converses with. This is a burden too heavy for human sufferance ; and he must be made of irreconcilable contradictions, who can take pleasure in company, and yet be insensible of contempt and dis- grace from his companions. § 13. THESE THREE LAWS, THE RULES OF MORAL GOOD AND EVrIL. These three then, First, The law of God; Secondly, The law of politic societies; Thirdly, The law of fashion, or private cen- sure, are those to which men variously compare their actions ; and it is by their conformity to one of these laws, that they take their measures, when they would judge of their moral rectitude, and denominate their actions good or bad. § 14. MORALITY IS THE RELATION OF ACTIONS TO THESE RULES. Whether the rule, to which, as to a touchstone, we bring our voluntary actions, to examine them by, and try their goodness, and accordingly to name them ; which is, as it were, the mark of the value we set upon them : whether, I say, we take that rule from the fashion of the country, or the will of a law-maker, the mind is easily able to observe the relation any action hath to it, and to judge whether the action agrees or disagrees with the rule ; and so hath a notion of moral goodness or evil, which is either conformity or not conformity of any action to that rule : and therefore is often called moral rectitude. This rule being nothing but a collection of several simple ideas, the conformity thereto is but so ordering the action, that the simple ideas belonging to it may correspond to those which the law requires. And thus we see how moral beings and notions are founded on, and terminated in, these simple ideas we have received from sensation or reflection. For example, let us consider the com- plex idea we signify by the word murder ; and when we have taken it asunder, and examined all the particulars, we shall find them to amount to a collection of simple ideas derived from reflection or sensation, viz. First, From reflection on the operations of our own minds, we have the ideas of willing, considering, purposing, before hand, malice, or wishing ill to another; and also of life, or perception, and self motion. Se- condly, From sensation we have the collection of those simple sensible ideas which are to be found in a man, and of some ac- tion, whereby we put an end to perception and motion in a man ; all which simple ideas are comprehended in the word murder. This collection of simple ideas being found by me to agree or disagree with the esteem of the country 1 have been bred in, and to be held by most men there worthy praise or blame, I call the action virtuous or vicious : if I have the will of a supreme invi- sible Law-maker for my rule: then, as ! supposed the action com- CH. XXVlH.j OV MORAL RELATIONS. 337 manded or forbidden by God, I call it good or evil, sin or duty : and if I compare it to the civil law, the rule made by the legisla- tive power of the country, I call it lawful or unlawful, a crime or no crime. So that whencesoever we take the rule of moral actions, or by what standard soever we frame in our minds the ideas of virtues or vices, they consist only and are made up of collections of simple ideas, which we originally received from sense or reflection, and their rectitude or obliquity consists in the agreement or disagreement with those patterns prescribed by some law. §15. To conceive rightly of moral actions, we must take notice of them under this twofold consideration. First, as they are in themselves each made up of such a collection of simple ideas. Thus drunkenness, or lying, signify such or such a collection of simple ideas, which I call mixed modes ; and in this sense they are as much positive absolute ideas as the drinking of a horse, or speaking of a parrot. Secondly, our actions are considered as good, bad, or indifferent ; and in this respect they are relative, it being their conformity to, or disagreement with, some rule that makes them to be regular or irregular, good or bad, and so as far as they are compared with a rule, and thereupon denomina- ted, they come under relation. Thus the challenging and righting with a man, as it is a certain positive mode, or particular sort of action, by particular ideas, distinguished from all others,, is called duelling ; which when considered in relation to the law of God, will deserve the name sin ; to the law of fas in some countries, valour and virtue ; and to the municipal laws of some governments, a capital crime. In this case, when the positive mode has one name, and another name as it stands in relation to the law, the distinction may as easily be observed as it is in substances, where one name, v. g. man, is used to signify the thing; another, v. g. father, to signify the relation. § 16. THE DENOMINATIONS OF ACTIONS OFTEN MISLEAD VS. But because very frequently the positive idea of the action, and its moral relation, are comprehended together under one name, and the same word made use of to express both the mode or action, and its moral rectitude or obliquity ; therefore the relation itself is less taken notice of, and there is often no dis- tinction made between the positive idea of the action, and the reference it has to a rule. By which confusion of- these two distinct considerations under one term, those who yield too easily to the impressions of sounds, and are forward to take names for things, arc often misled in their judgment pf actions. Thus the taking from another what is his, without his know- ledge or allowance, is properly called stealing ; but that name being commonly understood to signify also the moral pravity of Vol. F. 338 OJF MORAL RELATIONS. [BOOK II. the action, and to denote its contrariety to the law, men are apt to condemn whatever they hear called stealing as an ill action, disagreeing with the rule of right. And yet the private taking away his sword from a madman, to prevent his doing mischief, though it be properly denominated stealing, as the name of such a mixed mode ; yet when compared to the law of God, and con- sidered in its relation to that supreme rule, it is no sin or trans- gression, though the name stealing ordinarily carries such an inti- mation with it. § 17. RELATIONS INNUMERABLE. And thus much for the relation of human actions to a law. which therefore I call moral relation. It would make a volume to go over all sorts of relations; it is not therefore to be expected that I should here mention them all. It suffices to our present purpose to show by these what the ideas are we have of this comprehensive consideration, called relation : which is so various, and the occasions of it so many (as many as there can be of comparing things one to another,) that it is not very easy to reduce it to rules, or under just heads. Those I have mentioned, I think, are some of the most consider- able, and such as may serve to let us see from whence we get our ideas of relations, and wherein they are founded. But before 1 quit this argument, from what has been said, give me leave to observe, § 18. ALL RELATIONS TERMINATE IN SIMPLE IDEAS. First, That it is evident that all relation terminates in, and is ultimately founded on, those simple ideas we have got from sensation or reflection : so that all that we have in our thoughts ourselves (if we think of any thing, or have any meaning) or would signify to others, when we use words standing for relations, is nothing but some simple ideas, or collections of simple ideas, compared one with another. This is so manifest in that sort called proportional, that nothing can be more: for when a man says honey is sweeter than wax, it is plain that his thoughts, in this relation, terminate in this simple idea, sweetness, which is equally true of all the rest ; though where they are compounded or decompounded, the simple ideas they are made up of are, perhaps, seldom taken notice of. V. g. when the word father is mentioned ; first, there is meant that particular species, or col- lective idea, signified by the word man. Secondly, those sensi- ble simple ideas, signified by the word generation ; and, thirdly, the effects of it, and all the simple ideas signified by the word child. So the word friend being taken for a man, who loves, and is ready to do good to another, has all these following ideas to the making of it up ; first, all the simple ideas, comprehended in the word man, or intelligent being. Secondly, the idea of love. Thirdly, the idea of readiness or disposition. Fourthly- XXVIII.] OP MORAL RELATION.-. 339 the idea of action, which is any kind of thought or motion. Fifthly, the idea of good, which signifies any thing that may advance his happiness, and terminates, at last, if examined, in particular simple ideas ; of which the word good in general signifies any one, but, if removed from all simple ideas quite, it signifies nothing at all. And thus also all moral words terminate at last, though perhaps more remotely, in a collection of simple ideas : the immediate signification of relative words being very often other supposed known relations, which, if traced one to another, still end in simple ideas. § 19. WE HAVE ORDINARILY AS CLEAR (oR CLEARER) A NOTION Of THE RELATION, AS OF ITS FOUNDATION. Secondly, That in relations we have for the most part, if not always, as clear a notion of the relation, as we have of those simple ideas wherein it is founded. Agreement or disagreement, whereon relation depends, being things whereof we have com- monly as clear ideas as of any other whatsoever; it being bul: the distinguishing simple ideas, or their degrees one from another, without which we could have no distinct knowledge at all. For if I have a clear idea of sweetness, light or extension, 1 have too of equal, or more or less, of each of these : if I know what it is for one man to be born of a woman, viz. Sempronia, I know what it is for another man to be born of the same woman Sem- pronia ; and so have as clear a notion of brothers as of births, and perhaps clearer. For if I believed that Sempronia dug Titus out of the parsley-bed (as they used to tell children) and thereby became his mother : and that afterward, in the same manner, she dug Caius out of the parsley-bed ; I had as clear a notion of the relation of brothers between them, as if I had all the skill of a midwife : the notion that the same woman contri- buted, as mother, equally to their births, (though I were ignorant or mistaken in the manner of it) being that on which I grounded the relation, and that they agreed in that circumstance of birth, let it be what it will. The comparing them then, in their descent from the same person, without knowing the particular circum- stances of that descent, is enough to found my notion of their having or not having the relation of brothers. But though the ideas of particular relations are capable of being as clear and distinct in the minds of those who will duly consider them as those of mixed modes, and more determinate than those of substances ; yet the names belonging to relation are often of as doubtful and uncertain signification as those of substances or mixed modes, and much more than those of simple ideas; because relative words being the marks of this comparison, which is made only by men's thoughts, and is an idea only in men's minds, men fre- quently apply them to different comparisons of things, according to their own imaginations, which do not always correspond with those of others using the same name. 340 OF DISTINCT AND CONFUSED IDEAS. [BOOK II. § 20. THE NOTION OF THE RELATION IS THE SAME, WHETHER THE RULE ANY ACTION IS COMPARED TO BE TRUE OR FALSE. Thirdly, That in these I call moral relations I have a true notion of relation, by comparing the action with the rule, whether the rule be true or false. For if 1 measure any thing by a yard, I know whether the thing I measure be longer or shorter than that supposed yard, though perhaps the yard I measure by be not exactly the standard, which indeed is another inquiry : for though the rule be erroneous, and I mistaken in it, yet the agreement or disagreement observable in that which I compare with makes me perceive the relation. Though measuring by a wrong rule, I shall thereby be brought to judge amiss of its moral rectitude, because I have tried it by that which is not the true, rule ; yet I am not mistaken in the relation which that action bears to that rule I compare it to, which is agreement or disa- greement. CHAPTER XXIX. OF CLEAR AND OBSCURE, DISTINCT AND CONFUSED IDEAS* § 1. IDEAS SOME CLEAR AND DISTINCT, OTHERS OBSCURE AND CONFUSED. Having shown the original of our ideas, and taken a view of their several sorts, considered the difference between the simple and the complex, and observed how the complex ones are divided into those of modes, substances, and relations ; all which, I think, is necessary to be done by any one who would acquaint himself thoroughly with the progress of the mind in its apprehension and knowledge of things ; it will, perhaps, be thought I have dwelt long enough upon the examination of ideas. I must, nevertheless, crave leave to offer some few other considerations concerning them. The first is, that some are clear, and others obscure ; some distinct, and others confused. § 2. CLEAR AND OBSCURE EXPLAINED BY SIGHT. The perception of the mind being most aptly explained by words relating to the sight, we shall best understand what is meant by clear and obscure in our ideas by reflecting on what we call clear and obscure in the objects of sight. Light being that which discovers to us visible objects, we give the name of obscure to that which is not placed in a light sufficient to discover minutely to us the figure and colours, which are observable in it, and which, in a better light, would be discernible. In like manner our simple ideas are clear when they are such as the objects them- selves, from whence they were taken, did or might, in a. well- ordered sensation or perception, present them. Whilst the CH. XXIX.] OF DISTINCT AND CONFUSED IDEAS. 341 memory retains them thus, and can produce them to the mind, whenever it has occasion to consider them, they are clear ideas. So far as they either want any thing of the original exactness, or have lost any of their first freshness, and are, as it were, faded or tarnished by time ; so far are they obscure. Complex ideas, as they are made up of simple ones, so they are clear when the ideas that go to their composition are clear ; and the number and order of those simple ideas, that are the ingredients of any complex one, is determinate and certain. § 3. CAUSES OF OBSCURITV. The causes of obscurity in simple idea? seem to be either dull organs, or very slight and transient impressions made "by the objects, or else a weakness in the memory not able to retain them as received. For to return again to visible objects, to help us to apprehend this matter: if the organs or faculties of percep- tion, like wax over-hardened with cold, will not receive the impression of the seal, from the usual impulse wont to imprint it ; or, like wax of a temper too soft, will not hold it well when well imprinted ; or else supposing the wax of a temper fit, but the seal not applied with a sufficient force to make a clear impression : in any of these cases, the print left by the seal will be obscure. This, I suppose, needs no application to make it plainer. § 4. DISTINCT AND CONFUSED, WHAT. As a clear idea is that whereof the mind has such a full and evident perception, as it does receive from an outward object operating duly on a well-disposed organ ; so a distinct idea is that wherein the mind perceives a difference from all other; and a confused idea is such a one as is not sufficiently distin- guishable from another, from which it ought to be different. § 5. OBJECTION. If no idea be confused but such as is not sufficiently distin- guishable from another, from which it should be different ; it will be hard, may any one say, to find any where a confused idea. For let any idea be as it will, it can be no other but such as the mind perceives it to be ; and that very perception suffi- ciently distinguishes it from all other ideas, which cannot be other, i. c. different, without being perceived to be so. No idea therefore can be undistinguishable from another, from which it ought to be different, unless you would have it different from itself: for from all other it is evidently different. § 6. CONFUSION OF IDEAS IS IN REFERENCE TO THEIR NAMES. To remove this difficulty, and to help us to conceive aright what it is that makes the confusion ideas are at any time charge- able with, we must consider, that things ranked under distinct M"Z OF DISTINCT AND CONFUSED IDEAS. [BOOK II, names are suppposed different enough to be distinguished, that so each sort by its peculiar name may be marked, and dis- coursed of apart upon any occasion : and there is nothing more evident, than that the greatest part of different names are sup- posed to stand for different things. Now every idea a man has being visibly what it is, and distinct from all other ideas but itself, that which makes it confused is, when it is such, that it may as well be called by another name as that which it is expressed by: the difference which keeps the things (to be ranked under those two different names) distinct, and makes some of them belong rather to the one, and some of them to the other of those names, being left out ; and so the distinction, which was intended to be kept up by those different names is quite lost. § 7. DEFAULTS WHICH MAKE CONFUSION. The defaults which usually occasion this confusion, I think, are chiefly these following : FIRST, COMPLEX IDEAS MADE UP OF TOO FEW SIMPLE ONES. First, when any complex idea (for it is complex ideas that are most liable to confusion) is made up of too small a number of simple ideas, and such only as are common to other things, whereby the differences that make it deserve a different name are left out. Thus he that has an idea made up of barely the simple ones of a beast with spots, has but a confused idea of a leopard : it not being thereby sufficiently distinguished from a lynx, and several other sorts of beasts that are spotted. So that, such an idea, though it hath the peculiar name leopard, is not distinguishable from those designed by the names lynx or panther, and may as well come under the name lynx as leopard. How much the custom of defining of words by general terms contri- butes to make the ideas we would express by them confused and undetermined, I leave others to consider. This is evident, that confused ideas are such as render the use of words uncertain, and take away the benefit of distinct names. When the ideas, for which we use different terms, have not a difference answer- able to their distinct names, and so cannot be distinguished by them, there it is that they are truly confused. § 8. SECONDLY, OR ITS SIMPLE ONES JUMBLED DISORDERLY TOGETHER. Secondly, Another fault which makes our ideas confused is, when though the particulars that make up any idea are in num- ber enough : yet they are so jumbled together, that it is not easily discernible whether it more belongs to the name that is given it than to any other. There is nothing properer to make us con- ceive this confusion, than a sort of pictures usually shown as surprising pieces of art, wherein the colours, as they are laid by the pencil on the table itself, mark out very odd and unusual t H. XXIX. J OF DISTINCT AND CONFUSED IDEAS, 34$ figures, and have no discernible order in their position. This draught, thus made up of parts wherein no symmetry nor order appears, is in itself no more a confused thing than the picture of a cloudy sky ; wherein though there be as little order of colours or figures to be found, yet nobody thinks it a confused picture. What is it then that makes it be thought confused, since the want of symmetry does not ? as it is plain it does not, for another draught made, barely in imitation of this, could not be called confused. I answer, that which makes it be thought con- fused is the applying it to some name to which it does no more discernibly belong than to some other : v. g. when it is said to be the picture of a man, or Caesar, then any one with reason counts it confused: because it is not discernible in that state to belong more to the name man, or Caesar, than to the name baboon, or Pompey ; which are supposed to stand for different ideas from those signified by man or Caesar. But when a cylindrical mirror, placed right, hath reduced those irregular lines on the table into their due order and proportion, then the confusion ceases, and the eye presently sees that it is a man, or Caesar, i. e. that it belongs to those names, and that it is suffi- ciently distinguishable from a baboon, or Pompey, i. e. from the ideas signified by those names. Just thus it is with our ideas, which are as it were the pictures of things. No one of these mental draughts, however the parts are put together, can be call- ed confused (for they are plainly discernible as they are) till it be ranked under some ordinary name to which it cannot be discerned to belong, any more than it does to some othername of an allowed different signification. § 9. THIRDLY, OR ARE MUTABLE AND UNDETERMINED. Thirdly, A third defect that frequently gives the name of con- fused to our ideas, is when any one of them is uncertain and undetermined. Thus we may observe men, who, not forbearing to use the ordinary words of their language till they have learned their precise signification, change the idea they make this or that term stand for, almost as often as they use it. He that does this, out of uncertainty of what he should leave out, or put into his idea of church or idolatry, every time he thinks of either, and holds not steady to any one precise combination of ideas that makes it up, is said to have a confused idea of idolatry or the church ; though this be still for the same reason as the former, viz. because a mutable idea, (if we will allow it to be one idea) cannot belong to one name rather than another ; and so loses the distinction that distinct names are designed for. § 10. CONFUSION, WITHOUT REFERENCE TO NAMES, HARDLY CON' CEIVABLE. By what has been said, we may observe how much names, as supposed steady signs of things, and by their difference to stand for and keep things distinct that in themselves are different, are" 344 OF DISTINCT AND CONFUSED IDEAS. [BOOK IK the occasion of denominating ideas distinct or confused, by a secret and unobserved reference the mind makes of its ideas to such names. This perhaps will be fuller understood after what I say of words, in the third book, has been read and considered. But without taking notice of such a reference of ideas to distinct names, as the signs of distinct things, it will be hard to say what a confused idea is. And therefore when a man designs, by any name, a sort of things, or any one particular thing, distinct from all others ; the complex idea he annexes to that name is the more distinct, the more particular the ideas are, and the greater and more determinate the number and order of them is, whereof it is made up. For the more it has of these, the more it has still of the perceivable differences, whereby it is kept separate and distinct from all ideas belonging to other names, even those that approach nearest to it : and thereby all confusion with them is avoided. §11. CONFUSION CONCERNS ALWAYS TWO IDEAS. Confusion, making it a difficulty to separate two things that should be separated, concerns always two ideas ; and those most, which most approach one another. Whenever therefore we suspect any idea to be confused, we must examine what other it is in danger to be confounded with, or which it cannot easily be separated from ; and that will always be found an idea belonging to another name, and so should be a different thing, from which yet it is not sufficiently distinct ; being either the same with it, or making a part of it, or at least as properly called by that name, as the other it is ranked under ; and so keeps not that difference from that other idea, which the different names import. § 12. CAUSES OF CONFUSION. This, I think, is the confusion proper to ideas, which still car- ries with it a secret reference to names. At least, if there be any other confusion of ideas, this is that which most of all disor- ders men's thoughts and discourses : ideas, as ranked under names, being those that for the most part men reason of within themselves, and always those which they commune about with others. And therefore where there are supposed two different ideas marked by two different names, which are not as distin- guishable as the sounds that stand for them, there never fails to be confusion ; and where any ideas are distinct, as the ideas of those two sounds they are marked by, there can be between them no confusion. The way to prevent it is to collect and unite into our complex idea, as precisely as is possible, all those ingre- dients whereby it is differenced from others ; and to them, so united in a determinate number and order, apply steadily the same name. But this neither accommodating men's ease or vanity, or serving any design but that of naked truth, which is not always the thing aimed at, such exactness is rather to be wished than hoped for. And since the loose application of name?. VH, XX1X.J OP DISTIJSCT AND CONFUSED IDEAS. 34} so undetermined, variable, and almost no ideas, serves both to cover our own ignorance, as well as to perplex and confound others, which goes for learning and superiority in knowledge, it is no wonder that most men should use it themselves, whilst they complain of it in others. Though, I think, no small part of the confusion to be found in the notions of men might by care and ingenuity be avoided, yet I am far from concluding it every where wilful. Some ideas are so complex, and made up of so many parts, that the memory does not easily retain the very same precise combination of simple ideas under one name', much less are we able constantly to divine for what precise com- plex idea such a name stands in another man's use of it. From the first of these, follows confusion in a man's own reasonings and opinions within himself; from the latter, frequent confusion in discoursing and arguing with others. But having more at large treated of words, their defects and abuses, in the following book, J shall here say no more of it. § ]3. COMPLEX IDEAS MAY BE DISTINCT IN ONE PART, AND CONFUSED IN ANOTHER. Our complex ideas being made up of collections, and so variety of simple ones, may accordingly be very clear and distinct in one part, and very obscure and confused in another. In a man who speaks of a chiliasdron, or a body of a thousand sides-, the ideas of the figure may be very confused, though that of the number be very distinct; so that he being able to discourse and demonstrate concerning that part of his complex idea which depends upon the number of a thousand, he is apt to think he has a distinct idea of a chiliasdron ; though it be plain he has no precise idea of its figure, so as to distinguish it by that, from one that has but 999 sides ; the not observing whereof causes no small error in men's thoughts, and confusion in their discourses. § 1 1. THIS, IF NOT HEEDED, CAUSES CONFUSION IN OUR ARGUINGS.. fie that thinks hehas a distinct idea of the figure of a chiluedron,. let him for trial sake take another parcel of the same uniform mai- ler, viz. gold or wax, of an equal bulk, and make it into a figure of 999 sides : he will, 1 doubt not, he able to distinguish these two ideas one. from another, by the number of sides : and reason and argue distinctly about them, whilst he keeps his thoughts and reasoning to that part only of these ideas which is contained in liieir numbers ; as that the sides of the one could be divided into two equal numbers, and of the others not, &c. But when he goes about to distinguish them by their figure, he will there be presently at a loss, and not be able, I think, to frame in his mind two ideas, one of them distinct from the other, by the hare figure of these two pieces of gold, as he could, if the same parcels o( gold were made one into a cube, the other a figure of five sides '\\ which incomplete ideas we are very apt to impose . Besides what we have already mentioned concerning ideas, other considerations belong to them, in reference to things from whence they are taken, or which they may be supposed to repre- sent : and thus, I think, they may come under a threefold dis- tinction ; and are, First, either real or fantastical. Secondly, adequate or inadequate. Thirdly, true or false. First, by real ideas, I mean such as have a foundation in nature ; such as have a conformity with the real being and exist- ence of things, or with their archetypes. Fantastical or chime- rical I call such as have no foundation in nature, nor have any conformity to that reality of being to which they are tacitly referred as to their archetypes. If we examine the several sorts of ideas before mentioned, we shall find, that, § 2. SIMPLE IDEAS ALL REAL. First, our simple ideas are all real, all agree to the reality of things, not that they are all of them the images or representations of what does exist ; the contrary whereof, in all but the primary qualities of bodies, hath been already shown. But though white- ness and coldness are no more in snow than pain is, yet those ideas, of whiteness and coldness, pain, &c. being in us the effects of powers in things without us, ordained by our Maker to produce in us such sensations ; they arc real ideas in us, whereby we dis- tinguish the qualities that are really in things themselves. For these several appearances being designed to be the mark, whereby we are to know and distinguish things which we have to do with, .onr 'xfens do os well serve irs to tliat purpose, and are as real dis» CM. XXX. J or REAL AND FANTASTICAL ID] languishing characters, whether they be onl) constant effects, or eke exacJ resemblances of something in the things themselves : the reality lying in that steady correspondence they have with the distinct constitutions of real beings. But whether they answer to those constitutions, as to causes or patterns, it matters not ; it suffices that they are constantly produced by them. And thus our simple ideas are all real and true, because they answer and agree to those powers of things which produce them in our minds ; that being all that is requisite to make them real, and not fictions at pleasure. For in simple ideas (as has been shown) the mind is wholly confined to the operation of things upon it, and can make to itself no simple idea more than what it has received. «i D. COMPLEX IDEAS ARE VOLUNTARY COMBINATIONS. Though the mind be wholly passive in respect of its simple ideas ; yet 1 think we may say, it is not so in respect of its com- plex ideas : for those being combinations of simple ideas put together, and united under one general name ; it is plain that the mind of man uses some kind of liberty, in forming those complex ideas : how else comes it to pass that one man's idea of gold, or justice, is different from another's ! but because he has put in, or left out of his, some simple idea which the other has not. The question then is, which of these are real, and which barely ima- ginary combinations ? What collections agree to the reality of things, and what not? And to this 1 say, that, 1. MIXED MODES MADE OF CONSISTENT IDEAS, ARE REAL. Secondly, mixed modes and relations having no other reality but what they have in the minds of men, there is nothing more required to this kind of ideas to make them real, but that they be so framed, that there be a possibility of existing conformable to them. These ideas themselves being archetypes, cannot differ from their archetypes, and so cannot be chimerical, unless any one will jumble together in them inconsistent ideas. Indeed, as any of them have the names of a known language assigned to i hem, by which he that has them in his mind would signify them to others, so bare possibility of existing is not enough ; they must have a conformity to the ordinary signification of the name (hat is given them, that they may not be thought fantastical : as if a man would give the name of justice to that idea which common use calls liberality. But this fantasticalness relates more to pro- priety of speech, than reality of ideas : for a man to be undis- turbed in danger, sedately to consider what is fittest to be done, and to execute it steadily, is a mixed mode, or a complex idea of an action which may exist. But to be undisturbed in danger, without using one's reason or industry, is what is also possible to be ; and so is ;b real an idea as the other. Though the first of these, having the name courage given to it. may, in respect of that OF REAL AND FANTASTICAL IDEAS. [BOOK II. name, be a right or wrong idea: but the other, whilst it has not a common received name of any known language assigned to it, is not capable of* any deformity, being made with no reference to any thing but itself. § 5. IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES ARE REAL, WHEN THEY AGREE WITH THE EXISTENCE OF THINGS. Thirdly, our complex ideas of substances being made all of them in reference to things existing without us, and intended to be representations of substances, as they really are ; are no far- ther real than as they are such combinations of simple ideas as are really united, and coexist in things without us. On the con- trary, those are fantastical, which are made up of such collections of simple ideas as were really never united, never were found together in any substance ; v. g. a rational creature, consisting of a horse's head, joined to a body of human shape, or such as the centaurs are described : or, a body yellow, very malleable, fusi- ble, and fixed ; but lighter than common water : or a uniform, uno rganized body, consisting, as to sense, all of similar parts, with perception and voluntary motion joined to it. Whether such substances as these can possibly exist or no, it is probable we do not know: but be that as it will, these ideas of substances being made conformable to no pattern existing that we know, and consisting of such collections of ideas as no substance ever showed us united together, they ought to pass with. us for barely imaginary : but much more are those complex ideas so, which contain in them any inconsistency or contradiction of their parts. CHAPTER XXXI. OF ADEQUATE AND INADEQUATE IDEAS. 'Si. ADEQUATE IDEAS ARE SUCH AS PERFECTLY REPRESENT THEIR ARCHETYPES. Of our real ideas, some are adequate and some arc inadequate. Those I call adequate, which perfectly represent those arche- types which the mind supposes them taken from; which it intends them to stand for, and to which it refers them. Inadequate ideas are such, which are but a partial or incomplete representation of those archetypes to which they are referred. Upon which account it is plain. < H. XWI.J OF ADEQUATE AM) INADEQUATE ID J IS. § 2. SIMPLE IDEAS ALL ADEQUATE. First, that all our simple ideas are adequate. Because being nothing but the effects of certain powers in things, fitted and ordained by God to produce such sensations in us, they cannot but he correspondent and adequate to those powers : and we are sure they agree to the reality of things. For if sugar produce in us the ideas which we call whiteness and swee' we are sure there is a power in sugar to produce those ideas in our minds, or else they could not have been produced by it. And so each sensation answering the power that operates on any of our senses, the idea so produced is a real idea (and not a fiction of the mind, which has no power to produce any simple idea, and cannot but be adequate, since it ought only to answer that power ; and so all simple ideas are adequate. It is true, the things producing in us these simple ideas, are but few of them denominated by us as if they were only the causes of them, but as if those ideas were real beings in them. For though fire be called painful to the touch, whereby is signified the power of producing in us the idea of pain, yet it is denominated also light and hot ; as if light and heat were really something in the fira more than a power to excite these ideas in us ; and therefore are ealled qualities in, or of the fire. But these being nothing, in truth, but powers to excite such ideas in us, I must in that sense be understood, when 1 speak of secondary qualities, as being in things ; or of their ideas, as being the objects that excite them in us. Such ways of speaking, though accommodated to the vulgar notions, without which' one cannot be well understood, yet truly signify nothing but those powers which are in things to excite certain sensations or ideas in us : since were there no fit organs to receive the impressions fire makes on the sight and touch, nor a mind joined to those organs to receive the ideas of light and heat by those impressions from the fire or sun, there would yet be no more light or heat in the world, than there would be pain, if there were no sensible creature to feel it, though the sun should continue just as it is now, and mount iEtna flame higher than ever it did. Solidity and extension, and the termination of it, figure, with motion and rest, whereof we have the ideas, would be really in the world as they are, whether there were any sensible being to perceive them or no ; and therefore we have reason to look on those as the real modifications of matter, and such are the exciting causes of all our various sensations from bodies. But this being an inquiry not belonging to this place, 1 shall enter no farther into it, but proceed to show what complex ideas are quate, and what not. RE ILL \n:.\ ondly, our complex ideas of modes, being voluntary col- lections el' simple ideas which the mind puts together without ! es or standing patterns existing oo2 OF ADEQUATE AND INADEQUATE IDEAS. [liOOK II'. any where, are and cannot but be adequate ideas. Because they not being intended for copies of things really existing, but for archetypes made by the mind to rank and denominate things by, cannot want any thing ; they having each of them that combina- tion of ideas, and thereby that perfection which the mind in- tended they should : so that the mind acquiesces in them, and can find nothing wanting. Thus by having the idea of a figure, with three sides meeting at three angles, I have a complete idea, wherein I require nothing else to make it perfect. That the mind is satisfied with the perfection of this its idea, is plain in that it does not conceive, that any understanding hath, or can have a more complete or perfect idea of that thing it signifies by the word triangle, supposing it to exist, than itself has in that complex idea of three sides and three angles ; in which is con- tained all that is or can be essential to it, or necessary to com- plete it, wherever or however it exists. But in our ideas of substances it is otherwise. For there desiring to copy things as they really do exist, and to represent to ourselves that constitu- tion on which all their properties depend, we perceive our ideas attain not that perfection we intend : we find they still want something Ave should be glad were in them ; and so are all in- adequate. But mixed modes and relations, being archetypes without patterns, and so having nothing to represent but them- selves, cannot but be adequate, every thing being so to itself. He that at first put together the idea of danger, perceived absence of disorder from fear, sedate consideration of what was justly to be done, and executing that without disturbance, or being deterred by the danger of it, had certainly in his mind that complex idea made up of that combination ; and intending it to be nothing else, but what is, nor to have in it any other simple ideas, but what it hath, it could not also but be an adequate idea : and laying this up in his memory, with the name courage annexed to it, to signify to others, and denominate from thence any action he should observe to agree with it, and hereby a stan- dard to measure and denominate actions by, as they agreed to it. This idea thus made, and laid up for a pattern, must necessarily be adequate, being referred to nothing else but itself, nor made by any other original, but the good liking and will of him that- first made this combination. § 4. MODES, IN REFERENCE TO SETTLED tfAMES, MAY BE INADEQUATE. Indeed another coming after, and in conversation learning from him the word courage, may make an idea to which he gives the name courage, different from what the first author applied it to, and has in his mind, when he uses it. And in this case, if he designs that his idea in thinking should be conformable to the other's idea, as the name he uses in speaking is conformable in sound to his, from whom he learned it, his idea may be very wrong and inadequate: because in this case, making the other CH. XXXI.] OP ADEQUATE AND INADEQUATE IDEAS. 353 man's idea the pattern of his idea in thinking, as the other man's word or sound is the pattern of his in speaking, his idea is so far defective and inadequate, as' it is distant from the archetype and pattern he refers it to, and intends to express and signify by the name he uses for it; which name he would have to be a sign of the other man's idea (to which, in its proper use, it is primarily annexed) and of his own, as agreeing to it : to which, if his own does not exactly correspond, it is faulty and inade- quate. §5. Therefore these complex ideas of modes, when they are refer- red by the mind, and intend to correspond to the ideas in the mind of some other intelligent being, expressed by the names we apply to them, they may be very deficient, wrong, and ina- dequate ; because they agree not to that, which the mind designs to be their archetype and pattern : in which respect only, anv idea of modes can be wrong, imperfect, or inadequate. And on this account our ideas of mixed modes are the most liable to be faulty of any other ; but this refers more to proper speak- ing, than knowing right. § 6. IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES, AS REFERRED TO REAL ESSENCES, NOT ADEQUATE. Thirdly, What ideas we have of substances, I have above shown. Now those ideas have in the mind a double reference ; 1. Sometimes they are referred to a supposed real essence of each species of things. 2. Sometimes they are only designed to be pictures and representations in the mind, of things that do exist by ideas of those qualities that are discoverable in them. In both which ways, these copies of those originals and arche- types are imperfect and inadequate. First, it is usual for men to make the names of substances stand for things, as supposed to have certain real essences, whereby they are of this or that species : and names standing for nothing but the ideas that arc in men's minds, they must consequently refer their ideas to such real essences, as to their archetypes. That men, (especially such as have been bred up in the learning taught in this part of the world) do suppose certain specific es- sences of substances, which each individual, in its several kinds, is made conformable to, and partakes of ; is so far from need- ing proof, that it will be thought strange if any one should do otherwise. And thus they ordinarily apply the specific names they rank particular substances under, to things as distinguished by such specific real essences. Who is there almost, who would not take it amiss, if it should be doubted, whether he called himself a man, with any other meaning, than as having the real essence of a man ? And yet if you demand what those real essences are, it is plain men are ignorant, and know them not* Vol. I. 15 "ool OF ADEQUATE AND INADEQUATE IDEAS. [BOOK II. From whence it follows, that the ideas they have in their minds, being referred to real essences, as to archetypes which are un- known, must be so far from being adequate, that they cannot be supposed to be any representation of them at all. The complex ideas we have of substances, are, as it has been shown, certain collections of simple ideas that have been observed or supposed constantly to exist together. Bur such a complex idea cannot be the real essence of any substance ; for then the properties we discover in that body, would depend on that complex idea, and be deducible from it, and their necessary connexion with it be known : as all properties of a triangle depend on, and as far as they are discoverable, are deducible from, the complex idea of three lines, including a space. But it is plain, that in our com- plex ideas of substances, are not contained such ideas, on which all the other qualities, that are to be found in them, do depend. The common idea men have of iron, is a body of a certain colour, weight and hardness ; and a property that they look on as belonging to it, is malleableness. But yet this property has no necessary connexion with that complex idea, or any part of it : and there is no more reason to think that malleableness depends on that colour, weight and hardness, than that colour, or that weight depends on its malleableness. And yet, though we know nothing of these real essences, there is nothing more ordinary, than that men should attribute the sorts of things to such essen- ces. The particular parcel of matter, which makes the ring I have on my finger, is forwardly, by most men, supposed to have a real essence, whereby it is gold ; and from whence those quali- ties flow, which 1 find in it, viz. its peculiar colour, weight, hard- ness, fusibility, fixedness, and change of colour upon a slight touch of mercury, &x. This essence, from which all these properties flow, when I inquire into it, and search after it, I plainly perceive I cannot discover ; the farthest I can go, is only to presume, that it being nothing but body, its real essence, or internal constitution, on which these qualities depend, can be nothing bu the figure, size, and connexion of its solid parts ; of neither of which, having any distinct perception at all, can 1 have any idea of its essence, which is the cause that it has that particular shining yellowness, a greater weight than any thing 1 know of the same bulk, and a fitness to have its colour changed by the touch of quicksilver. If any one will say, that the real essence and internal constitution, on which these pro- perties depend, is not the figure, size and arrangement or con- nexion of its solid parts, but something else, called its particular form : I am farther from having any idea of its real essence, than I was before : for I have an idea of figure, size, and situa- tion of solid parts in general, though I have none of the particu- lar figure, size, or putting together of parts, whereby the quali- ties above mentioned are produced ; which qualities I find in that particular parcel of matter that is on my finger, and not in CH. XXXI.] OF ADEQUATE AND INADEQUATE IDEAS. 355 another parcel of matter, with which I cut the pen I write with. But when I am told, that something besides the figure, size and posture of the solid parts of that body, is its essence, something called substantial form : of that 1 confess 1 have no idea at all, but only of the sound form, which is far enough from an idea of its real essence, or constitution. The like ignorance as I have of the real essence of this particular substance, I have also of the real essence of all other natural ones : of which essences, 1 confess 1 have no distinct ideas at all : and 1 am apt to suppose others, when they examine their own knowledge, will find in themselves, in this one point, the same sort of igno- rance. §7. Now, then, when men apply to this particular parcel of mat- ter on my finger, a general name already in use, and denominate it gold, do they not ordinarily, or are they not understood to give it that name as belonging to a particular species of bodies, having a real internal essence ; by having of which essence, this parti- cular substance comes to be of that species, and to be called by that name ? If it be so, as it is plain it is, the name, by which things are marked, as having that essence, must be referred pri- marily to that essence ; and consequently the idea to which that name is given, must be referred also to that essence, and be intended to represent it. Which essence, since they, who so use the names, know not, their ideas of substances must be all adequate in that respect, as not containing in them that real es- sence which the mind intends they should. § 8. IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES, AS COLLECTIONS OF THEIR QUALITIES, ARE ALL INADEQUATE. Secondly, Those who neglecting that useless supposition of unknown real essences, whereby they are distinguished, endea- vour to copy the substances that exist in the world, by putting together the ideas of those sensible qualities which are found coexisting in them, though they come much nearer a likeness of them, than those who imagine they know not what real spe- cific essences ; yet they arrive not at perfectly adequate ideas of those substances they would thus copy into their minds; nor do those copies exactly and fully contain ail that is to be found in their archetypes. Because those qualities, and powers of sub- stances, whereof we make their complex ideas, are so many and various, that no man's complex idea contains them all. That our abstract ideas of substances do not contain in them all the simple ideas that are united in the things themselves, is evident, in that men do rarely put into their complex idea of any sub- stance, all the simple ideas they do know to exist in it. Because endeavouring to make the signification of their specific names as clear, and as little cumbersome as they can. they make their spc- "356 OF ABEQUATE AND INADEQUATE IDEAS. [BOOK II. cific ideas of the sorts of substances, for the most part, of a few of those simple ideas which are to be found in them : but these having no original precedency, or right to be put in, and make the specific idea more than others that are left out, it is plain that both these ways our ideas of substances are deficient and inadequate. The simple ideas, whereof we make our complex ones of substances, are all of them (bating only the figure and bulk of some sorts) powers, which being relations to other sub- stances we can never be sure that we know all the powers that are in any one body, till we have tried what changes it is fitted to give to, or receive from other substances, in their several ways of application : which being impossible to be tried upon any one body, much less upon all, it is impossible we should have adequate ideas of any substance, made up of a collection of all its properties. §9. Whosoever first lit on a parcel of that sort of substance we denote by the word gold, could not rationally take the bulk and figure he observed in that lump, to depend on its real essence or internal constitution. Therefore those never went into his idea of that species of body ; but i's peculiar colour, perhaps, and weight, were the first he abstracted from it, to make the complex idea of that species. Which both are but powers ; the one to affect our eyes after such a manner, and to produce in us that idea we call yellow ; and the other to force upwards any other body of equal bulk, they being put into a pair of equal scales, one against another. Another perhaps added to these the ideas of fusibility, and fixedness, two other passive powers, in relation to the operation of fire upon it ; another, its ductility and solubility in aq. regia, two other powers relating to the ope- ration of other bodies, in changing its outward figure or separa- tion of it into insensible parts. These, or parts of these, put together, usually make the complex idea in men's minds, of that sort of body we call gold. § 10. But no one, who hath considered the properties of bodies in general, or this sort in particuJar, can doubt that this called gold has infinite other properties, not contained in that complex idea. Some who have examined this species more accurately, could, I believe, enumerate ten times as many properties in gold, all of them as inseparable from its internal constitution, as its colour or weight : and, it is probable, if any one knew all the properties that are by divers men known of this metal, there would an hundred times as many ideas go to the complex idea of gold, as •any one man yet has in his ; and yet perhaps that not be the thousandth part of what is to be discovered in it. The changes which that one body is apt to receive, and make in other bo- CH. XXXI.] OF ADEQUATE AND INADEQUATE IDEAS. 357 dies, upon a due application, exceeding far not only what we know, but what we are apt to imagine. Which will not appear so much a paradox to any one, who will but consider how far men are yet from knowing all the properties of that one, no very compound figure, a triangle ; though it be no small number that are already by mathematicians discovered of it. §11. IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES AS COLLECTIONS OF THEIR QUALITIES, ARE ALL INADEQUATE. So that all our complex ideas of substances are imperfect and inadequate. Which would be so also in mathematical figures, if we were to have our complex ideas of them, only by collecting their properties in reference to other figures. How uncertain and imperfect would our ideas be of an ellipsis, if we had no other idea of it, but some few of its properties ? Whereas having in our plain idea the whole essence of that figure, we from thence discover those properties, and demonstratively see how they flow, and are inseparable from it. § 12. SIMPLE IDEAS hSlvvr*, AND ADEQUATE. Thus the mind has three sorts of abstract ideas or nominal es- sences : First, Simple ideas, which are «V7wr« or copies ; but yet cer- tainly adequate. Because being intended to express nothing but the power in things to produce in the mind such a sensation, that sensation, when it is produced, cannot but be the effect of that power. So the paper 1 write on, having the power, in the light (I speak according to the common notion of light) to pro- duce in me the sensation which I call white, it cannot but be the effect of such a power, in something without the mind; since the mind has not the power to produce any such idea itself, and being meant for nothing else but the effect of such a power, that simple idea is real and adequate : the sensation of white, in my mind, being the effect of that power, which is in the paper to produce it, is perfectly adequate to that power ; or else, that power would produce a different idea. § 13. IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES ARE eitlwrx INADEQUATE. Secondly, The complex ideas of substances are ectypes, copies too ; but not perfect ones, not adequate : which is very evident to the mind, in that it plainly perceives that whatever collection of simple ideas it m ikes of any substance that exists, it cannot be sure, that it exactly answers all that are in that substance: since not having tried all the operations, of all other substances upon it, and found all the alterations it would receive from, or cause in other substances, it cannot have an exact adequate col- lection of all its active and passive capacities ; and so not have an adequate complex idea of the powers of any substance exist- ing, and its relations, which is that sort of complex idea of sub- 35S OP TRUE AND FALSE IDEAS.' [BOOK II. stances we have. And, after all, if we could have, and actually had in our complex idea, an exact collection of all the secondary qualities or powers of any substance, we should not yet thereby have an idea of the essence of that thing. For since the powers or qualities that are observable by us, are not the real essence of that substance, but depend on it, and flow from it, any collec- tion whatsoever of these qualities, cannot be the real essence of that thing. Whereby it is plain, that our ideas of substances are not adequate; are not what the mind intends them to be. Be- sides, a man has no idea of substance in general, nor knows what substance is in itself. § 14. IDEAS OF MODES AND RELATIONS, ARE ARCHETYPES, AND CANNOT BUT BE ADEQ.DATE. Thirdly, complex ideas of modes and relations are originals and archetypes ; are not copies, nor made after the pattern of any real existence, to which the mind intends them to be con- formable, and exactly to answer. These being such collections of simple ideas, that the mind itself puts together, and such collections, that each of them contains in it precisely all that the mind intends it should, they are archetypes and essences of modes that may exist, and so are designed only for, and belong only to such modes, as when they do exist, have an exact con- formity with those complex ideas. The ideas therefore of modes and relations cannot be adequate. CHAPTER XXXII. OF TRUE AND FALSE IDEAS. LE IDEAS MAY BE FALSE, IN REFERENCE TO OTHERS OF THE SAME NAM?;, BUT ARE LEAST LIABLE TO BE SO. First then, I say, that when the truth of our ideas is judged of by the conformity they have to the ideas which other men have, and commonly signify by the same name, they may be any of them false. But yet simple ideas are least of all liable to be so mistaken ; because a man by his senses, and every day's obser- vation, may easily satisfy himself what the simple ideas are which their several names that are in common use stand for; they being but few in number, and such as if he doubts or mistake-: in, he may easily rectify, by the objects they are toi>e found in. Therefore it is seldom that any one mistakes in his names of sim- ple ideas, or applies the name red to the idea green, or the name sweetto the idea bitter ; much less are men apt to confound the names of ideas belonging to different senses, and call a colour by the name of a taste, 6ic. ; whereby it is evident that the simple ideas they call by any name are commonly the same that others have and mean when they use the same names. § 10. IDEAS OF MIXED MODES MOST LIABLE TO BE FALSE IN THIS SENS] Complex ideas are much more liable to be false in this respeel; and the complex ideas of mixed modes much more than those of substances : because in substances (especially those which the common and unborrowed names of any language are applied to) some remarkable sensible qualities, serving ordinarily to distin- guish one sort from another, easily preserve those, who take any care in the use of their words, from applying them to sorts of substances to which they do not at all belong. But in mixed modes we are much more uncertain ; it being not so easy to determine of several actions, whether they are to be called justice or cruelty, liberality or prodigality. And so in referring our ideas to those of other men, called by the same names, ours may be false ; and the idea in our minds, which we express by the word justice, may perhaps be that which ought to have another name. § 11. OR AT LEAST TO BE THOUGHT FALSE. But whether or no our ideas of mixed modes are more liablr than any sort to be different from those of other men, which are marked by the same names, this at least is certain, that this sort of falsehood is much more familiarly attributed to our idea-; of mixed modes than to any other. When a man is thought to have a false idea of justice, or gratitude, or glory, it is for no other reason but that his agrees not with the ideas which each of those names arc the signs of in other men. * . § 12. AND WHY. The reason whereof seems to me to be this : that the abstract ideas of mixed mode? being men's voluntary combinations oi Vol, I 1G "362 OF TaDE AND FALSE IDEAS. [BOOK II. such a precise collection of simple ideas, — and so the essence of each species being made by men alone, whereof we have no other sensible standard existing any where but the name itself, or the definition of that name, — we have nothing else to refer these our ideas of mixed modes to, as a standard to which we would con- form them, but the ideas of those who are thought to use those names in their most proper significations ; and so as our ideas conform or diifer from them, they pass for true or false. And thus much concerning the truth and falsehood of our ideas, in reference to their names. 4 13. AS REFERRED TO REAL EXISTENCES, NONE OF OUR IDEAS CAN BE FALSE, BUT THOSE OF SUBSTANCES. Secondly, as to the truth and falsehood of our ideas, in refer- ence to the real existence of things ; when that is made the standard of their truth, none of them can be termed false, but oaly our complex ideas of substances. § 14. FIRST, SIMPLE IDEAS IN THIS SENSE NOT FALSE, AND WHY. First, our simple ideas being barely such perceptions as God has fitted us to receive, and given power to external objects to produce in us by established laws and ways, suitable to his wis- dom and goodness, though incomprehensible to us, their truth consists in nothing else but in such appearances as arc produced in us, and must be suitable to those powers he has placed in external objects, or else they could not be produced in us : and thus answering those powers, they are what they should be, true ideas. Nor do they become liable to any imputation of false- hood, if the mind (as in most men I believe it does) judges these ideas to be in the things themselves. For God, in his wisdom, having set them as marks of distinction in things, whereby we may be able to discern one thing from another, and so choose a vy of them for our uses, as we have occasion ; it alters not the nature of our simple idea, whether we think that the idea of blue be in the violet itself, or in our mind only ; and only the power of producing it by the texture of its parts, reflecting the particles of light after a certain manner, to be in the violet itself. For that texture in the object, by a regular and constant operation, producing the same idea of blue in us, it serves us to distinguish, by our eyes, that from any other thing, whether that distinguishing mark, as it is really in the violet, be only a peculiar texture of parts, or else that very colour, the idea whereof (which is in us,) is the exact resemblance. And it is equally from that appear- ance to be denominated blue, whether it be that real colour, or only a peculiar texture in it, that causes in us that idea : since the name blue notes properly nothing but that mark of distinction that is in a violet, discernible only by our eyes, what- ever it consists in : thnt being beyond our capacities distinctly to CH. XXXII.'] ©JP XKL'E AJ>I> FALSE IDEAS. 3'63 know, and perhaps would be of less use to us if we had faculties to discern. § 15. though one man's idka of blue should be DIFFERENT from another's. Neither would it carry any imputation of falsehood to out- simple ideas, if, by the different structure of our organs, it were so ordered, that the same object should produce in several mien's minds different ideas at the same time ; v. g. if the idea that a violet produced in one man's mind by his eyes were the same, that a marigold produced in another man's, and vice v(rsa. For since this could never be known, because one man's mind could not pass into another man's body, to perceive what appearances were produced by those organs ; neither the ideas hereby, nor the names would be at all confounded, or any falsehood be in cither. For all things that had the texture of a violet, producing constantly the idea that he called blue ; and those which had the texture of a marigold, producing constantly the idea which he as constantly called yellow ; whatever those appearances were in his mind, he would be able as regularly to distinguish things for his use by those appearances, and understand and signify those, distinctions marked by the names blue and yellow, as if the appearances, or ideas in his mind, received from those two flowers, were exactly the same with the ideas in other men's minds. 1 am nevertheless very apt to think that the sensible ideas produced by any object in different men's minds are most commonly very near and undiscernibly alike. For which opi- nion, I think, there might be many reasons offered : but that being besides my present business, 1 shall not trouble my reader with them ; but only mind him, that the contrary supposition, if it could be proved, is of little use, either for the improvement of our knowledge or conveniency of life ; and so we need not trouble ourselves to examine it. 16. FIRST, SIMPLE IDEAS IN- THIS SENSE NOT FALSE, AND WHY. From what has been said concerning our simple ideas, I think it evident, that our simple ideas can none of them be false in respect of (hings existing without us. For the truth of these appearances, or perceptions in our minds, consisting, as has been said, only in their being answerable to the powers in external ob- jects to produce by our senses such appearances in us ; — and each of them being in the mind, such as it is, suitable to the power that produced it, and which alone it represents; — it cannot upon that account.or as referred to such a pattern, be false. Blue and yel- low, bitter or sweet, can never be false ideas : these perceptions in the mind arc just such as they are there, answering the powers appointed by God to produce them ; and so are truly what they are and arc intended to be. Indeed the names may be misap- plied ; but that in this respect makes no falsehood in the idc; PAtSE IDEAS. [BOOK II. as if a man ignorant in the English tongue should call purple scarlet. § 17. SECONDLY, MODES NOT FALSE. Secondly, neither can our complex ideas of modes, in reference to the essence of any thing really existing, be false. Because whatever complex idea 1 have of any mode, it hath no reference to any pattern existing and made by nature : it is not supposed to contain in it any other ideas than what it hath ; nor to repre- sent any thing but such a complication of ideas as it does. Thus when I have the idea of such an action of a man, who forbears to afford himself such meat, drink, and clothing, and other conveniences of life, as his riches and estate will be suffi- cient to supply, and his station requires, I have no false idea ; hut such an one as represents an action, either as I find or imagine it ; and so is capable of neither truth nor falsehood. But when I give the name frugality or virtue to this action, then it may be c ailed a false idea, if thereby it be supposed to agree with -that idea, to which, in propriety of speech, the name of frugality doth belong ; or to be conformable to that law, which is the standard of virtue and vice. § 18. THIRDLY, IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES, WHEN FALSE. Thirdly, our complex ideas of substances, being all referred to patterns in things themselves, may be false. That they are all false, when looked upon as the representations of the unknown essences of things, is so evident, that there needs nothing to be said of it. I shall therefore pass over that chimerical supposition, and consider them as collections of simple ideas in the mind taken from combinations of simple ideas existing together, con- stantly in things, of which patterns they are the supposed copies : and in this reference of them to the existence of things they are false ideas. 1. When they put together simple ideas, which in the real existence of things have no union ; as when to the shape and size that exist together in a horse is joined, in the same com- plex idea, the power of barking like a dog; which three idea?, however put together into one in the mind, were never united in nature ; and this therefore may be called a false idea of a horse. 2. Ideas of substances are, in this respect, also false, when from any collection of simple ideas that do always exist together, there is separated, by a direct negation, any other simple idea which is constantly joined with them. Thus, if to extension, solidity, fusibility, the peculiar weightiness, and yellow colour of gold, any one join in his thoughts the negation of a greater degree of fixedness than is in lead or copper, he may be said to have a false complex idea, as well as when he joins to those other simple ones the idea of perfect absolute fixedness. For either way, the complex idea of gold being made up of such simple ones as have no union in nature, maybe termed false. But if we leave out of CH. XXXII.] OF TRUE AND FALSE IDE IS* this his complex idea, that of fixedness quite, without either actually joining to, or separating of it from the rest in his mind, it is, I think, to be looked on as an inadequate and imperfect idea, rather than a false one ; since though it contains not all the sim- ple ideas that are united in nature, vet it puts none together but what do really exist together. 19. TRUTH OR FALSEHOOD ALWAYS SUPPOSES AFFIRMATION OR. NEGATION. Though in compliance with the ordinary way of speaking 1 have showed in what sense, and upon what ground our ideas may be sometimes called true or false ; yet if we will look a little nearer into the matter, in all cases where any idea is called true or false, it is from some judgment that the mind makes, or is supposed to make, that is true or false. For truth or falsehood, being never without some affirmation or negation, express or tacit, it is not to be found but where signs are joined and sepa- rated, according to the agreement or disagreement of the things they stand for. The signs we chiefly use are either ideas or words, wherewith we make either mental or verbal proposition-. Truth lies in so joining or separating these representatives, as the things they stand for do in themselves agree or disagree ; and falsehood in the contrary, as shall be more fully shown hereafter. § 20. IDEAS IN THEMSELVES NEITHER TRUE NOR FALSE. Any idea then which we have in our minds, whether con- formable or not to the existence of things, or to any idea in the minds of other men, cannot properly for this alone be called false. For these representations, if they have nothing in them but what is really existing in things without, cannot be thought false, being exact representations of something ; nor yet, if they have any thing in them differing from the reality of things can they properly be said to be false representations, or ideas of things they do not represent. But the mistake and falsehood is, ft 21. FUT ARE FALSE 1. WHEN JUDGED AGREEABLE TO ANOTHER MAN'S IDEA, WITHOUT BEING SO. First, when the mind having any idea, it judges and concludes it the same that is in other men's minds, signified by the same name ; or that it is conformable to the ordinary received signifi- cation or definition of that word, when indeed it is not: which i~ the most usual mistake in mixed modes, though other ideas also are liable to it. ^ 22. 2. WHEN JUDGED TO AGREE TO REAL EXISTENCE WHEN 1 DO NOT. Secondly, when it having a complex idea made up of such 8 collection of simple ones as nature never puts together, it judges il to agree to a specie- of creatures really existing 366 OF TRUE AND FALSE IDKAS. [.BOOK IJ« when it joins the weight of tin to the colour, fusibility, and fixed- ness of gold. § 23. 3. WHEN JUDGED ADEQUATE, WITHOUT BEING SO. Thirdly, when in its complex idea it has united a certain num- ber of simple ideas that do really exist together in some sort of creatures, but has also left out others as much inseparable, it judges this to be a perfect complete idea of a sort of things which really it is not ; v. g. having joined the ideas of substance, yel- low, malleable, most heavy, and fusible, it takes that complex idea to be the complete idea of gold, when yet its peculiar fixed- ness and solubility in aqua regia are as inseparable from those other ideas or qualities of that body, as they are one from another. § 24. 4. WHExV JUDGED TO REPRESENT THE REAL ESSENCE. Fourthly, the mistake is yet greater, when I judge that this complex idea contains in it the real essence of any body exist- ing, when at least it contains but some few of those properties which flow from its real essence and constitution. I say, only some few of those properties ; for those properties consisting mostly in the active and passive powers it has, in reference to other things, all that are vulgarly known of any one body, of which the complex idea of that kind of things is usually made, are but a very few, in comparison of what a man, that has several ways tried and examined it, knows of that one sort of things : and all that the most expert man knows are but a (ew, in com- parison of what are really in that body, and depend on its inter- nal or essential constitution. The essence of a triangle lies in a very little compass, consists in a very few ideas, — three lines including a space make up that essence, — but the properties that flow from this essence are more than can be easily known or enumerated. So I imagine it is in substances, their real essences lie in a little compass, though the properties flowing from that, internal constitution are endless. § 25. IDEAS, WHEN FALSE. To conclude, a man having no notion of any thing without him, but by the idea he has of it in his mind (which idea he has a power to call by what name he pleases,) he may indeed make an idea neither answering the reason of things, nor agreeing to the idea commonly signified by other people's words ; but cannot make a wrong or false idea of a thing, which is no otherwise known to him but by the idea he has of it : v. g. when 1 frame an idea of the legs, arms, and body of a man, and join to this a horse's head and neck, I do not make a false idea of any thing ; because it represents nothing without me. But when 1 call it a man or Tartar, and imagine it to represent some real bciitu without me. or to be the same idea that others call by the saftiF THE ?IGMri'- VTIO.N "OF WORDS. [book m. such a word is made arbitrarily the mark of such an idea. The use then of words is to be sensible marks of ideas ; and the ideas they stand for are their proper and immediate signification. 8 2. WORDS ARE THE SENSIBLE SIGNS OK HIS IDEAS WHO USES THEM. The use men have of these marks being cither to record their own thoughts for the assistance of their own memory, or, as it were, to bring out their ideas, and lay them before the view of others ; words in their primary or immediate signification stand for nothing but the ideas in the mind ol him that uses them, how imperfectly soever or carelessly those ideas are collected from the things which they are supposed to represent. When a man speaks to another, it is that he may be understood ; and the end of speech is, that those sounds, as marks, may make known his ideas to the hearer. That then which words are the marks of, j! re the ideas of the speaker: nor can any one apply them as marks immediately to any thing else but the ideas that he himself hath, for this would be to make them signs of his own concep- tions, and yet apply them to other ideas ; which would be to make them signs, and not signs of his ideas at the same time ; and so in effect, to have no signification at all. Words being voluntary signs, they cannot be voluntary signs imposed by him on things he knows not. That would be to make them signs of nothing, sounds without signification. A man cannot make his words the signs either of qualities in things, or of conceptions in the mind of another, whereof he has none in his own. Till he has some ideas of his own, he cannot suppose them to correspond with the conceptions of another man ; nor can he use any signs for them : for thus they would be the signs of he knows not what, which is in truth to be the signs of nothing. But when he repre- sents to himself other men's ideas by some of his own, if he consent to give them the same names that other men do, it is still to his own ideas ; to ideas that he has, and not to ideas that he has not. § 3, This is so necessary in the use of language, that in this respect the knowing and the ignorant, the learned and unlearned, use the words they speak (with any meaning) all alike. They, in every man's mouth, stand for the ideas he has, and which he would express by them. A child having taken notice of nothing in the metal he hears called gold, but the bright shining yellow colour, he applies the word gold only to his own idea of that colour, and nothing else ; and therefore calls the same colour in a pea- cock's tairgold. Another that hath better observed, adds to shining yellow great weight ; and then the sound gold, when he uses it, stands for a complex idea of a shining yellow, and very weighty substance. Another adds to those qualities fusibility ; and then the word gold signifies to him a body, bright, yellow, fusible, and very heavv. Another adds malleability. Each of • W.J OF THE SIGNIFICATION 9S WORDS, these uses equally the word gold, when they have occasion to express the idea which they have applied it to : but it is evident that each can apply it only to his own idea ; nor can he make it stand as a sign of such a complex idea as he has not. " § 4. WORDS OFTEN SECRETLY REFERRED, FIRST TO THE IDC As IV OTHER MEN'S MINDS. But though words, as they are used by men, can properly and immediately signify nothing but the ideas that are in the mind of the speaker ; yet they in their thoughts give them a secret refer- ence to two other things. First, They suppose their words to be marks of the ideas in the minds also of other men, with whom they communicate : for else they should talk in vain, and could not be understood, if the sounds they applied to one idea were such as by the hearer were applied to another ; which is to speak two languages. But in (his, men stand not usually to examine whether the idea they and those they discourse with have in their minds be the same : but think it enough that they use the word, as they imagine, in the common acceptation of that language; in which they suppose that the idea they make it a sign of is precisely the same, to which J he understanding men of that country apply that name. § 5. SECONDLY, TO THE REALITY OF THINGS. Secondly, Because men would not be thought to talk barelv of their own imaginations, but of things as really they are • therefore they often suppose the words to stand also for the reality of things. But this relating more particularly to substances, and their names, as perhaps the former does to simple ideas and modes, we shall speak of these two different ways of applying words more at large, when we come to treat of the names of fixed modes and substances in particular : though give me leave here to say, that it is a perverting the use of words, and brings unavoid- able obscurity and confusion into their signification, whenever we make them stand for any thing but those ideas we have in our own minds. O 6. WORDS BV USE READILY EXCITE IDEAS. Concerning words also it is farther to be considered : first, thai they being immediately the signs of men's ideas, and by that means the instruments whereby men communicate their concep- I ions, and express to one another those thoughts and imaginations they have within their own breasts: there comes by constant use io be such a connexion between certain sounds and the ideas they ..lid for, that the names heard almost as readily excite certain ideas, as if the objects themselves, which are apt to produce them, did actually affect the senses. Which is manifestly so in all obvious sensible qualities ; and in all substances that frequently ■ ■■ . tfjjft QF THE SIGNiriCAtlOJS OF WORDS, [BOOK lit,' $ 7. WORDS OFTEN USED WITHOUT SIGNIFICATION. 'Secondly, That though the proper and immediate signification: of words are ideas in the mind of the speaker, yet because, by familiar use from our cradles we come to learn certain articulate sounds very perfectly, and have them readily on our tongues, and always at hand in our memories, but yet are not always careful to examine, or settle their significations perfectly ; it often hap- pens that men, even when they would apply themselves to an attentive consideration, do set their thoughts more on words than things. Nay, because words are many of them learned before the ideas are known for which they stand ; therefore some, not only children, but men, speak several words no otherwise than parrots do, only because they have learned them, and have been accustomed to those sounds. But so far as words are of use and signification, so far is there a constant connexion between the sound and the idea, and a designation that the one stands for the other ; without which application of them, they are nothing but so much insignificant noise. §8. THEIR SIGNIFICATION PERFECTLY ARBITRARY. Words by long and familiar use, as has been said, come to excite in men certain ideas so constantly and readily, that they are apt to suppose a natural connexion between them. But that they signify only men's peculiar ideas, and that by a perfect arbi- trary imposition, is evident, in that they often fail to evcite in others (even that use the same language) the same ideas we take them to be the signs of: and every man has so inviolable a; liberty to make words stand for what ideas he pleases, that no one hath the power to make others have the same ideas in their minds that he has, when they use the same words that he does. And therefore the great Augustus himself, in the possession of that power which ruled the world, acknowledged he could not make a new Latin word : which was as much as to say, that he could not arbitrarily appoint what idea any sound should be a sign of, in the mouths and common language of his subjects. It is true, common use by a tacit consent appropriates certain sounds to certain ideas in all languages, which so far limits the signification of that sound, that unless a man applies it to the same idea, he does not speak properly : and let me add, that unless a man's words excite the same ideas in the hearer, which he makes them stand for in speaking, he does not speak intelligi- bly. But whatever be the consequence of any man's using of words differently, either from their general meaning, or the par- ticular sense of the person to whom he addresses them, this is certain, their signification, in his use of them, is limited to his jrdfeas, and they can be signs of nothing elso. CHAPTER III. OF GENERAL TERMS. i 1. THE GREATEST PART OF WORDS GENERAL. All things that exist being particulars, it may perhaps be thought reasonable that words, which ought to be conformed to things, should be so too ; 1 mean in their signification : but yet we find the quite contrary. The far greatest part of words, that make all languages, are general terms ; which has not beeu the effect of neglect or chance, but of reason and necessity. § 2. FOR EVERY PARTICULAR THING TO HAVE A NAME IS IMPOSSIBLE. First, It is impossible that every particular thing should have a distinct peculiar name. For the signification and use of words, depending on that connexion which the mind makes between its ideas and the sounds it uses as signs of them, it is necessary, in 1 he application of names to things, that the mind should have distinct ideas of the things, and retain also the particular name that belongs to every one, with its peculiar appropriation to that idea. But it is beyond the power of human capacity to frame ■and retain distinct ideas of all the particular things we meet with : every bird and beast men saw, every tree and plant that allected the senses, could not find a place in the most capacious understanding. If it be looked on as an instance of a prodigious memory, that some generals have been able to call every soldier in tbeir army by his proper name, we may easily find a reason why men have never attempted to give names to each sheep in their flock, or crow that flies over their heads ; much less to call every leaf of plants, or grain of sand that came in their way, by a peculiar name. § 3. AND ' Secondly, If it were possible, it would yet be useless ; because it would not serve to the chief end of language. Men would in wain heap up names of particular things, that would not serve them to communicate their thoughts. Men learn names, and use them in talk with others, only that they may be understood : which is then only done, when by use or consent the sound I make by tbe organs of speech excites in another man's mind, who hears it, the idea I apply it to in mine, when I speak it. This cannot be done by Dames applied to particular things, whereof I alone having the ideas in my mind, the names of them could not be significant or intelligible to another, who was not. acquainted \> lib all those very particular things which had fallen under my 3S- GENERAL TERMS. [BOOK III. §4. Thirdl)') But yet granting this also feasible (which I think is not.) yet a distinct name for every particular thing would not be of any great use for the improvement of knowledge; which though founded in particular things, enlarges itself by general views, to which things reduced into sorts under general names are properly subservient. These, with the names belonging to them, come within some compass, and do not multiply every moment, beyond what either the mind can contain or use requires : and therefore, in these, men have for the most part stopped ; but yet not so as to hinder themselves from distinguish- ing particular things by appropriated names, where convenience demands it. And therefore in their own species, which they have most to do with, and wherein they have often occasion to mention particular persons, they make use of proper names ; and there distinct individuals have distinct denominations. § 5. WHAT THINGS HAVE PROPER, NAMES. Besides persons, countries also, cities, rivers, mountains, and other the like distinctions of place, have usually found peculiar names, and that for the same reason ; they being such as men have often an occasion to mark particularly, and as it were set before others in their discourses with them. And I doubt not, but if we had reason to mention particular horses as often as we have to mention particular men, we should have proper names for the one, as familiar as for the other ; and Bucephalus would be a word as much in use as Alexander. And therefore we see that, among jockies, horses have their proper names to be known and distinguished by, as commonly as their servants ; because, among them, there is often occasion to mention this or that par- ticular horse, when he is out of sight. § 6. HOW GENERAL WORDS ARE. The next thing to be considered is, how general words come to be made. For since all things that exist are only particular, how come wre by general terms, or where find we those general natures they are supposed to stand for ? Words become general, by being made the signs of general ideas ; and ideas become general, by separating from them the circumstances of time, and place, and any other ideas, that may determine them to this or ihat particular existence. By this way of abstraction they are, made capable of representing more individuals than one ; each of which having in it a conformity to that abstract idea, is (as we call it) of that sort. But to deduce; ihis a little more distinctly, it will not perhaps be amiss to trace our notions and names from their beginning, and observe bv what degrees we proceed, and by what steps we . H. HI.] GENERAL TERMS. enlarge our ideas from our first infancy. There is nothing more evident, than that the ideas of the persons children converse with (to instance in them alone) are like the persons themselves. only particular. The ideas of the nurse and the mother are welj framed in their minds ; and, like pictures of them there, represent only those individuals. The names they first gave to them are confined to these individuals ; and the names of nurse and mamma the child uses, determine themselves to those per- sons. Afterward, when time and a larger acquaintance have made them observe, that there are a great many other things in the world that in some common agreements of shape, and several other qualities, resemble their father and mother, and those per- sons they have been used to, they frame an idea, which they find Those many particulars do partake in ; and to that they give with others, the name man for example. And thus they come to have a general name, and a general idea. Wherein they make nothing new, but only leave out the complex idea they had of Peter and James, Mary and Jane, that which is peculiar to each, and retain only what is common to them all. §3. By the same way that they come by the general name and idea of man, they easily advance to more general names and notions. For observing that several things that differ from their idea of man, and cannot therefore be comprehended under that name, have yet certain qualities wherein they agree with man, by retaining only those qualities, and uniting them into one idea, they have again another and more general idea ; to which having given a name, they make a term of a more comprehensive exten- sion : which new idea is made, not by any new addition, but only, as before, by leaving out the shape, and some other pro- perties signified by the name man, and retaining only a body, with life, sense, and spontaneous motion, comprehended under the name animal. § 9. GEJTEB.AL NATURES ARE NOTHING BUT ABSTRACT IDEAS. That this is the way whereby men first formed general ideas, and general names to them, 1 think, is so evident, that there i.eeds no other proof of it, but the considering of a man's self, or others, and the ordinary proceedings of their minds in know- ledge: and he that thinks general natures or notions arc any thing else but such abstract and partial ideas of more complex ones, taken at first from particular existences, will, I fear, be at where to find them. For let any one reflect, and then tell me, wherein docs his idea of man differ from that of Peter and Paul, or his idea of horse from that of Bucephalus, but in the leaving out something that is peculiar to each individual, and retaining so much of those particular complex ideas of several particular existences as they are found to agree in? Of the 384 GENERAL TERMS. [BOOK III. complex ideas signified by the names man and horse, leaving out but those particulars wherein they differ, and retaining only those wherein they agree, and of those making a new distinct complex idea, and giving the name animal to it; one has a more general term, that comprehends with man several other creatures. Leave out of the idea of animal, sense and spontaneous motion; and the remaining complex idea, made up of the remaining simple ones of body, life, and nourish- ment, becomes a more general one, under the more compre- hensive term vivcns. And not to dwell longer upon this particular, so evident in itself, by the same way the mind proceeds to body, substance, and at last to being, thing, and such universal terms, which stand for any of our ideas whatso- ever. To conclude, this whole mystery of genera and species, which make such a noise in the schools, and are with justice so little regarded out of them, is nothing else but abstract ideas, more or less comprehensive, with names annexed to them. In all which this is constant and unvariable, that every more general term stands for such an idea, and is but a part of any of those contained under it. 5 10. WHY THE GENUS IS ORDINAFaLY MADE USE OF IN DEFINITIONS. This may show us the reason why, in the defining of words, which is nothing but declaring their significations, we make use of the genus, or next general word that comprehends it. Which is not out of necessity, but only to save the labour of enumera- ting the several simple ideas, which the next general word or genus stands for ; or, perhaps, sometimes the shame of not being able to do it. But though defining by ge nus and differentia (Y crave leave to use these terms of art, though originally Latin, since they most properly suit those notions they are applied to) I say, though defining by the genus be the shortest way, yet I think it may be doubted whether it be the best. This 1 am sure, it is not the only, and so not absolutely necessary. For definition being nothing but making another understand by words what idea the term defined stands for, a definition is best made by enume- rating those simple ideas that are combined in the signification of the term defined ; and if instead of such an enumeration men have accustomed themselves to use the next general term, it has not been out of necessity, or for greater clearness, but for quick- ness and despatch sake. For, 1 think, that to one who desired to know what idea the word man stood for, if it should be said, that man was a solid extended substance, having life, sense, spon- taneous motion, and the faculty of reasoning; I doubt not but the meaning of the term man would be as well understood, and the idea it stands for be at least as clearly made known, as when it is defined to be a rational animal : which by the several defi- nitions of animal, vivcns, and corpus, resolves itself into those -enumerated ideas. 1 have, in explaining the term man. followed Ut. XII. j UEjJfEBAL TE/tMS 33£ here the ordinary definition of the schools : which though, per- haps, not the most exact, yet serves well enough to my present purpose. And one may, in this instance, see what gave occasion to the rule, that a definition must consist of genus and differentia; and it suffices to show us the little necessity there is of such a rule, or advantage in the strict observing of it. For definitions, as has been said, being only the explaining of one word by several others, so that the meaning or idea it stands for may be certainly known ; languages are not always so made according to the rules of logic, that every term can have its signification exactly and clearly expressed by two others. Experience suffi- ciently satisfies us to the contrary ; or else those who have made this rule have done ill, that they have given us so few definitions conformable to it. But of definitions more in the next chapter •: §11. GENERAL AND UNIVERSAL ARE CREATURES OP THE UNDER- STANDING. To return to general words, it is plain by what has been said, that general and universal belong not to the real existence of things, but are the inventions and creatures of the understand- ing, made by it for its own use, and concern only signs, whether words or ideas. Words are general, as has been said, when used for signs of general ideas, and so are applicable indiffer- ently to many particular things : and ideas are general, when they are set up as the representatives of many particular things ; but universality belongs not to things themselves, which are all of them particular in their existence ; even those words and ■ ideas which in their signification are general. When therefore we quit particulars, the generals that rest are only creatures of our own making ; their general nature being nothing but the capacity they are put into by the understanding, of signifying or representing many particulars. For the signification they have is nothing but a relation, that by the mind of man is added to them.(l) (1) Against this the Bishop of Worcester objects, and our author* answers as followeth : " However," saith the bishop, " the abstracted ideas are the work of the mind, yet they are not mere creatures of the mind ; as appears by an instance produced of the essence of the sun being in one single individual ; in which case it is granted, That the idea may be so abstracted, that more suns might agree in it, and it is as much a sort, as if there were as many suns as there ;u-e stars. So that here we have a real essence subsisting in one individual, but. capable of being multiplied into more, and the same essence remaining. Hut in I his one sun there is a real essence, and not a mere nominal or abstracted essence : but suppose there were more suns, would not each of them have the real essence of the sun ? For what is it makes the second sun, but having the same real essence with the first? If it were but a nominal essence, then the second would have! nothing but the name." Tins, as I understand it, replies JVlr. Locke, is to prove that the abstract geno- ral essence of any sort of things, or things of the same denomination, v. g. of man or marigold, hath a rc;d being out of the understanding ; which, F confesr I am not able to conceive. Your lordship's proof here brought out of mf • !n his first letter Vol 1 4fl ij-fcM QENGRAEi TERMS. [BOOR 1H, § 12. ABSTRACT >l;EAS ARE THE ESSENCES OF THE G BNERA AND SPECIES. The next thing therefore to be considered is, what kind of signification it is that general words have. For as it is evident that they do not signify barely one particular thing : for then they would not be general terms, but proper names ; so on the other side it is as evident, they do not signify a plurality ; for man and men would then signify the same, and the distinction of essay, concerning the sun, I humbly conceive v.'ill not reach it ; because what is said there, docs not at all concern the real but nominal essence, as is evident from hence, that the idea I speak of there is a complex idea ; but we have no complex idea of the internal constitution or real essence of the sun. Besides, 1 sav expressly, That our distinguishing substances into species, by names, is not at u!l founded on their real essences, ti0 that the sun being one of these substances, I cannot, in the place quoted by your lordship, be supposed to mean by essence of the sun the real essence of the sun, unless I had so expressed it. But all this argument will be at an end, when your lordship shall have explained what you mean by these words, " true sun.1' In my sense of them, any thing will be u true sun to which the name sun may be truly and properly applied, and to that substance or thing the name sun may be truly and properly applied, which has united iu it that combination of sensible qualities by which any thing else, that is called sun, is distinguished from other substances, i. e. by the nominal essence : and thus our sun is denominated and distinguished from a fixed star, not by a real essence that we do not know (for if we did, it is possible we should find the real essence or constitution of one of the fixed stars to be the same with that of our sun) but by a complex idea of sensible qualities coexisting, which, wherever fhey are found, make a true sun. And thus [ crave leave to answer your lord- ship's question — " For what is it makes the second sun to be a true sun, but having the same real essence with the first ? If it were but a nominal essence, then the second would have nothing but the name."' I humbly conceive, if it had the nominal essence, it would have something besides the name, viz. That nominal essence which is sufficient to denominate it truly a sun, or to make it be a true sun, though we know nothing of that real essence whereon that nominal one depends. Your lordship will then argue, that that real essence is in the second sun, and makes the second sun. I grant it, when the second sun comes to exist, so as to be perceived by us to have all the ideas con- tained in our complex idea, i. c in our nominal essence of a sun. For should it be true (as is now believed by astronomers,) that the real essence of the sun were in aiiv of the fixed stars, yet such a star could not for that be by us called a sun, whil-t it answers not our complex idea, or nominal essence of a sun. But how far that will prove, that the essences of things, as they are knowable by us, have a reality in them distinct from that of abstract ideas in the mind, which are merely creatures of the mind, I do not see ; and we shall farther inquire, in con- sidering your lordship's following words. lv Therefore," say you, " there must be a real essence in every individual of the same kind." Yes, and I beg leave of your lordship to say, of a different kind too. For that alone is it which makes it to bv what it is. That every individual substance has real, internal, individual constitution, i. t. a real essence, that makes it to be what it is, I readily grant. Upon this your N lordship says, " Peter, James, and John, are all true and real men." Answer. Without doubt, supposing them to be men, they are true and real men, i. <.„ supposing the name of that species belongs to them. And so three bobaqucs are all trite and real bobaques, supposing the name of that specks of animals belongs to them. For I beseech your lordship to consider, whether in your wuy of argument, by naming them Peter, James, and John, names familiar to us, as appropriated to individuals of the specie- man, your lordship does not first suppose them men, and then very safely ask, whether they be not all true and real men? But if I shou] I ask your lordship whether Weweena, Chuckery, and Cousheda, were true and real men or no: your lordship would not be able to tell me, till, I having pointed oat to j'our lordship the individitals called b\t ;bo--e names, your lordship, by •at. III. j GENERAL TERMS. 3#7 numbers (as the grammarians call them) would be superfluous and useless. That then which general words signify is a sort of things; and each of them does that by being a sign of an abstract idea in the mind, to which idea, as things existing are found to agree, so they come to be ranked under that name ; or, which is all one, be of that sort. Whereby it is evident that the essences of the sorts, or (if the Latin word pleases better) examining whether they had in them those sensible qualities which your lordship has combined into that complex idea to which you gire the speciiic name man. determined them all, o* some of them, to be the species which you call man, and. so to be true and real men ; which when your lordship has determined, it is plain you did it by that which is only the nominal essence, as not knowing the real one. But your lordship farther asks, " What is it makes Peter, James, and John real men ? Is it the attributing the general name to them ? No, certainly ; but thai the true and real essence of a man is in every one of them." If, when your lordship asks," What makes them men ?" your lordship used the word making in the proper sense for the elHcient cause, and in thai ssnse it were true, that the essence of a man, ?'. e. the speciiic essence of that species made a. man ; it would undoubtedly follow, that this specific essence had a reality beyond that of being only a general abstract idea in the mind. But when it is said, that it is the true and real essence of a man in every one of them that makes Peter, James, and John true and real men, the true and real meaning of these words is no more, but that the essence of that species, i. e. the properties answering the complex abstract idea to which the specific name is given, being found in them, that makes them be properly and truly called men, or is the reason why they are called men. Your lordship adds, " And we must be as certain of this, as we are that they are men ?' How, I beseech your lordship, are we certain that they are men, but only by our senses, finding those properties in them which answer the abstract complex* idea, which is in our minds, of the specific idea to which we have annexed the specific name man? This I take to be the true meaning of what your lordship says in the next words, viz. " They take their denomination of being men from that common nature or essence which is in them ;" and I am apt to think these words will not hold true in any other sense. Your lordship's fourth inference begins thus — "That the general idea is not made from the simple ideas by the mere act of the mind abstracting from circum- stances, but from reason and consideration of the nature of things." I thought, my lord, that reason and consideration had been acts of the mind, mere acts of the mind, when any thing was done by them. Your lordship gives a reason for it, viz. " For, when we see several individuals that have the same powers and properties, we thence infer, that there must be something common to all, which makes them of one kind." I grant the inference to be true ; but must beg leave to deny that this proves, ♦ hat the general idea the name is i'nnoxed to, is not made by the mind. I have said, and it agrees with what your lordship here says, "That "the mind, in making its complex ideas of substances, only follows nature, and puts no ideas together, which are not supposed to have a union in nature. Nobody joins the voice of a sheep with the shape of a horse ; nor the colour of lead with the weight and fixedness of gold, to be the complex ideas of any real eubstunces ; unless he has a mind to fill his head with chimeras, and his discourses with unintelligible- words. Men observing certain qualities always joined and existing together, therein copied nature, and of ideas so united, made their complex ones of sub- stance," &e. Which is very little different from what your lordship here says, that it is from our observation of individuals, that we come to infer, " thai there- is something common to them all." But I do not see how it will thence follow, that the general or speciGc idea is not made by the mere act of the mind. " No," says your lordship, "there is something common to them all, which makes them of one kind ; and if the difference of kinds be real, that which makes them all of oni kartd mas! not he b nominal, but real essence." • n. in o. f &S8 S88 -.L.NEUAL lEKMS. [BOOK III. species of things, are nothing else but these abstract ideas. For the having the essence of any species being that which makes any thing to be of that species, and the conformity to the idea to which the name is annexed being that which gives a right to that name ; the having the essence, and the having that confor- mity, must needs be the same thing ; since to be of any species, and to have a right to the name of that species, is all one. As, This may be some objection to the name of nominal essence ; but is, as I humbly conceive, none to the thing designed by it. There is an internal constitution of things, on which their properties depend. This your lordthip and I are agreed of, and this we call the real essence. There are also certain complex ideas, or com- binations of these properties in men's minds, to which they commonly an- nex specific names, or names of sorts or kinds of things. This, I believe, Your lordship does not deny. These complex ideas, for want of a better name, I have called nominal essences ; how properly, I will not dispute. But if any one will help me to a better name for them, I am ready to receive it; till then, I must, to express myself, use this. Now, my lord, body, life, and the power of reasoning, being not the real essence of a man, as I believe your lordship will agree, will your lordship say, that they are not enough to make the thing wherein they are found, of the kind called man, and not of the kind called baboon, because the difference of these kinds is real ? If this be not real enough to make the thing of one kind and not of another, I do not see how animal rationale can be enough really to distinguish a man from a horse ; for that is but the nominal, not real essence of that kind, designed by the name man ; and yet I suppose, every one thinks it real enough to make a real difference between that and other kinds. And if nothing will serve the turn, to make things of one kind and not of another, (which, as I have showed, signifies no more but ranking of them under different specific names) but their real unknown constitutions, which are the real essences we are speaking of, I fear it would be a long while before we should have really different kind of substances, or distinct names for them, unless we could distinguish them by these differences, of which we have no distinct conceptions. For 1 think it would not be readily answered me, if I should demand, wherein lies the real difference in the internal constitution of a stag from that of a buck, which are each of them very well known to be of one kind, and not of the other ; and nobody questions but that the kinds, whereof eaoh of them is, are really different. Your lordship farther says, " And this difference doth not depend upon the complex ideas of substances, whereby men arbitrarily join modes together in theii minds." I confess, my lord, I know not what to say to this, because I do not know what these complex ideas of substances are, whereby men arbitrarily join modes together in their minds. But I am apt to think there is a mistake in the matter, by the words that follow, which are these : " For let them mistake in their com- plication of ideas, either in leaving out or putting in what doth not belong to them ; and let their ideas be what they please, the real essence of a man, and a horse, and a tree, are just what they were. The mistake I spoke of, I humbly suppose, is this, that things are here taken to be distinguished by their real essences ; when, by the very way of speaking of them, it is clear, that they are already distinguished by their nominal essences, and are so taken to be. For what, I beseech your lordship, does your lordship mean, ■when you say, " The real essence of a man, and ahorse, and a tree," but that there are such kinds already set out by the signification of these names, man, horse, tree ? And what, I beseech your lordship, is the signification of each of these specific names, but the complex idea it stands for ? And that complex idea is the nominal essence, and nothing else. So that taking man, as your lordship does here, to «tand for a kind or sort of individuals, all which agree in that common complex idea, which that specific name stands for, it is certain that the real essence of all the individuals comprehended under the specific name man, in your use of it, would be just the same ; let others leave out or put into their complex idea of man what they please ; because the real essence on which that unaltered complex idea, i, c. those properties depend, must necessarily be concluded to be the same. -;H. III. J GENERAL TERMS. 389 for example, to be a man, or of the species man, and to have a right to the name man, is the same thing. Again, to be a man, or of the species man, and have the essence of a man, is the same thing. Now since nothing can be a man, or have a right to the For I take it for granted, that in using the name man, in this place, your lord- ship uses it for that complex idea which is in your lordship's mind of that species. So that your lordship, by putting it for, or substituting it in, the place of that com- plex idea where you say the real essence of it is just as it was, or the very same as it was, does suppose the idea it stands for to be steadily the same. For, if I change the signification of the word man, whereby it may not comprehend just the same individuals which in your lordship's sense it does, but shut out some of those that to your lordship are men in your signification of the word man, or take in others to which your lordship does not allow the name man ; 1 do not think you will say, that the real essence of man in both these senses is the same. And yet your lordship seems to say so, when you say, " Let men mistake in the complica- tion of their ideas, either in leaving out or putting in what doth not belong to them ;" and let their ideas be what they please, the real essence of the individuals comprehended under the names annexed to these ideas, will be the same : for so, I humbly conceive, it must be put, to make out what your lordship aims at. For, as your lordship puts it by the name of man, or any other specific name, your lordship seems to me to suppose, that that name stands for and not for the same idea, at the same tune. For example, my lord, let your lordship's idea, to which you annex the sign man, be a rational animal : let another man's idea be a rational animal of such a shape ; let a third man's idea be of an animal of such a size and shape, leaving out rationality ; let a fourth's be an animal with a body of such a shape, and an im- material substance, with a power of reasoning ; let a fifth leave out of his idea an immaterial substance. It is plain every one of these will call his a man, as well as your lordship ; and yet it is as plain that men, as standing for all these distinct, complex ideas, cannot be supposed to have the same internal constitu- tion, i. c. the same real essence. The truth is, every distinct abstract idea with the name to it, makes a real distinct kind, whatever the real essence (which we know not of any of them) be. And therefore I grant it true what your lordship says in the next words, "And let the nominal essences differ never so much, the real common essences or nature of the several kinds are not at all altered by them," i. e. That our thoughts or ideas cannot alter the real constitutions that are in things that exist, there is nothing more certain. But yet it is true, that the change of ideas, to which we annex them, can and docs alter the signification of their names, and thereby alter the kinds, which by these names we rank and sort them into. Your lordship far- ther adds, " And these real essences are unchangeable," i. e. the internal constitu- tions arc unchangeable. Of what, I beseech your lordship, are the internal con- stitutions unchangeable ? Not of any thing that exists, but of God alone ; for they may be changed all as easily by that hand that made them, as the internal frame1 of a watch. What then is it that is unchangeable ? The internal constitution, or real essence of a species ; which, m plain English, is no more but this, whilst the same specific name, v. g. of man, horse, or tree, is annexed to, or made the sign of the same abstract complex idea, under which I rank several individuals; it is impossible but the real constitution on which that unaltered, complex idea, or nominal essence depends, must be the same. i. e. in other words, where we find all the same properties, we have reason to conclude there is the same real, inter- nal constitution from which those properties flow. But your lordship proves the real essences to be unchangeable, because God makes them, in these following words : " For, however there may happen some variety in individuals by particular accidents, yet the essences of men, and horses, ;md trees, remain always the same : because they do not depend on the ideas of men, but on the will of the Creator, who hath made several sorts of beings." It is true, the real constitutions or essences of particular tilings existing do not depend on the ideas of men, but on the will of the Creator : but their being ranked into sorts, under such and such names, does depend, and wholly depend, on thf ■dr;is of men. 300 QENERAL TERMS. [BOOK IIJ.. name man, but what has a conformity to the abstract idea the name man stands for ; nor any thing be a man, or have a right to the species man, but what has the essence of that species : it follows that the abstract idea for which the name stands, and the essence of the species is one and the same. From whence it is easy to observe, that the essences of the sorts of things, and consequently the sorting of this, is the workmanship of the understanding, that abstracts and makes those general ideas. § 13. THEY ARE THE WORKMANSHIP OF THE UNDERSTANDING, BUT HAVE THEIR FOUNDATION IN THE SIMILITUDE OF THINGS. I would not here be thought to forget, much less to deny, that nature in the production of things makes several of them alike ; there is nothing more obvious, especially in the races of animals and all things propagated by seed. But yet, I think, we may say the sorting of them under names is the workmanship of the understanding, taking occasion from the similitude it observes among them to make abstract general ideas, and set them up in the mind, with names annexed to them as patterns or forms (for in that sense the word form has a very proper signification,) to which as particular things existing are found to agree, so they come to be of that species, have that denomination, or are put into that classis. For when we say, this is a man, that a horse ; this justice, that cruelty ; this a watch, that a jack ; what do we else but rank things under different specific names, as agreeing to those abstract ideas, of which we have made those names the signs? And what are the essences of those species set out and marked by names but those abstract ideas in the mind ; which are, as it were, the bonds between particular things that exist and the names they are to be ranked under ? And when general names have any connexion with particular beings, these abstract ideas are the medium that unites them ; so that the essences of species, as distinguished and denominated by us, neither are, nor can be any thing, but those precise abstract ideas we have in our minds. And therefore the supposed real essences of substances, if dif- ferent from our abstract ideas, cannot be the essences of the species we rank things into. For two species may be one as rationally, as two different essences be the essence of one species: and I demand what are the alterations may or may not be in a horse or lead, without making either of them to be of another species ? In determining the species of things by our abstract ideas, this is easy to resolve : but if any one will regulate him- self herein by supposed real essences, he will, I suppose, be at a loss ; and he will never be able to know when any thing precisely ceases to be of a species of a horse or lead. til. IU.] GENERAL TEhM> Ml § 14. EACH DISTINCT ABSTRACT IDEA IS A DISTINCT ESSENCE. Nor will any one wonder that I say these essences, or abstract ideas (which are the measures of name, and the boundaries of species,) are the workmanship of the understanding, who consi- ders, that at least the complex ones are often, in several men, dilferent collections of simple ideas ; and therefore that is covet- ousness to one man, which is not so to another. Nay, even in substances, where their abstract ideas seem to be taken from the things themselves, they are not constantly the same ; no, not in that species which is most familiar to us, and with which we have the most intimate acquaintance ; it having been more than once doubted, whether the foetus born of a woman were a man ; even so far, as that it hath been debated, whether it were or were not to be nourished and baptized ; which could not be, if the abstract idea or essence, to which the name man belonged, were of nature's making, and were not the uncertain and various collection of simple ideas, which the understanding put together, and then abstracting it, affixed a name to it. So that in truth every distinct abstract idea is a distinct essence : and the names that stand for such distinct ideas are the names of things essentially different. Thus a circle is as essentially different from an oval as a sheep from a goat ; and rain is as essentially dilferent from snow as water from earth ; that abstract idea which is the essence of one being impossible to be communicated to the other. And thus any two abstract ideas, that in any part vary one from another, with two distinct names annexed to them, constitute two distinct sorts, or, if you please, species, as essentially different, as any two of the most remote or opposite in the world. § 15. REAL AND NOMINAL ESSENCE. But since the essences of things are thought by some (and not without reason) to be wholly unknown, it may not be amiss to consider the several significations of the word essence. First, essence may betaken for the being of anything, whereby it is what it is. And thus the real internal, but generally, in substances, unknown constitution of things, whereon their disco- verable qualities depend, may be called their essence. This is the proper original signification of the word, as is evident from the formation of it ; essentia, in its primary notation, signifying properly being. And in this sense it is still used, when we speak of the essence of particular things, without giving them any name. Secondly, thelearning and disputes of the schools having been much busied about genus and species, the word essence has almost lost its primary signification ; and instead of the real con- stitution of things, has been almost wholly applied to the artifi- cial constitution of genus and species. It is true, there is ordi- nal ily supposed a real constitution of the sorts of things ; and it. fa past doubt, there must be some real constitution on which any 392 GENERAL TERMS [BOOK III collection of simple ideas coexisting must depend. But it being evident that things are ranked under names into sorts or species, only as they agree to certain abstract ideas to which we have annexed those names, the essence of each genus or sort comes to be nothing but that abstract idea which the general or sortal (if I may have leave so to call it from sort, as I do general from genus) name stands for. And this we shall find to be that which the word essence imports in its most familiar use. These two sorts of essences, I suppose, may not unfitly be termed, the one the real, the other the nominal essence. 6 16. CONSTANT CONNEXION BETWEEN THE NAME AND NOMINAL ESSENCE. Between the nominal essence and the name there is so near a connexion, that the name of any sort of things cannot be attri- buted to any particular being but what has this essence, whereby it answers that abstract idea, whereof that name is the sign. § 17. SUPPOSITION, THAT SPECIES ARE DISTINGUISHED BY THEIR REAL ESSENCES, USELESS. Concerning the real essences of corporeal substances (to men- tion these only,) there are, if I mistake not, two opinions. The one is of those, who using the word essence for they know not what, suppose a certain number of those essences, according to which all natural things are made, and wherein they do exactly every one of them partake, and so become of this or that species. The other and more rational opinion is, of those who look on all natural things to have a real, but unknown constitution of their insensible parts : from which flow those sensible qualities which serve us to distinguish them one from another, according as we have occasion to rank them into sorts under common denomina- tions. The former of these opinions, which supposes these essences as a certain number of forms or moulds, wherein all natural things that exist are cast and do equally partake, has, I imagine, very much perplexed the knowledge of natural things. The frequent productions of monsters, in all the species of ani- mals, and of changelings and other strange issues of human birth, carry with them difficulties not possible to consist with this hypothesis : since it is as impossible that two things, partaking exactly of the same real essence, should have different properties, as that two figures partaking of the same real essence of a circle, should have different properties. But were there no other rea- son against it, yet the supposition of essences that cannot be known, and the making of them nevertheless to be that which distinguishes the species of things, is so wholly useless and unser- viceable to any part of our knowledge, that that alone were sufficient to make us lay it by, and content ourselves with such essences of the sorts or species of things as come within the reach of our knowledge : which, when seriously considered. CH. HI. j GENERAL TERM& ;J9£ Avill be found, as I have said, to be nothing else but those abstract complex ideas to which we have annexed distinct ge- neral names. § 18. REAL AND NOMINAL ESSENCE THE SAME IN SIMPLE IDEAS AND MODES, DIFFERENT IN SUBSTANCES. Essences being thus distinguished into nominal and real, we may farther observe, that in the species of simple ideas and modes, they are always the same, but in substances, always quite different. Thus a figure, including a space between three lines, is the real as well as nominal essence of a triangle , it being not only the abstract idea to which the general name is annexed, but. the very essentia or being of the thing itself, that foundation from which all its properties flow, and to which they are all insepara- bly annexed. But it is far otherwise concerning that parcel of matter which makes the ring on my finger, wherein these two essences are apparently different. For it is the real constitution of its insensible parts on which depend all those properties of colour, weight, fusibility, fixedness, &c. which are to be found in it, which constitution we know not, and so having no particular idea of, have no name that is the sign of it. But yet it is its colour, weight, fusibility, fixedness, &c. which makes it to bo gold, or gives it a right to that name, which is therefore its nomi- nal essence ; since nothing can be called gold but what has a conformity of qualities to that abstract complex idea, to which that name is annexed. But this distinction of essences belonging particularly to substances, we shall, when we come to consider their names, have an occasion to treat of more fully. § 1(J. ESSENCES INGENERABLE AND INCORRUPTIBLE. That such abstract ideas, with names to them, as we have been speaking of, are essences, may farther appear by what we are told concerning essences, viz. that they are all ingenerable and incorruptible : which cannot be true of the real constitutions of things which begin and perish with them. All things that exist, besides their author, are all liable to change ; especially those things we are acquainted with, and have ranked into bands under distinct names or ensigns. Thus that which was grass to-day is to-morrow the flesh of a sheep, and within a few days after becomes part of a man : in all which, and the like changes, it is evident their real essence, i. c. that constitution, whereon the properties of these several things depended, is destroyed, and perishes with them. But essences being taken for ideas, esta- blished IB the mind, with names annexed to them, they are suppo- sed to remain steadily the same, whatever mutations the particu- lar substances are liable to. For whatever becomes of Alexander and Bucephalus, the ideas to which man and horse arc annexed are supposed nevertheless to remain the same ; and so the essences of those species are preserved whole and undestroved, whatever Vol. I 50 394 NAMES OF slMFLt IDEAS. LBOoK ni changes happen to any or all of the individuals of those species. By this means, the essence of a species rests safe and entire, with- out the existence of so much as one individual of that kind. For were there now no circle existing any where in the world, (as perhaps that figure exists not any where exactly marked out,) yet the idea annexed to that name would not cease to be what it is ; nor cease to be as a pattern to determine which of the particular figures we meet with have or have not a right to the name circle, and so to show which of them, by having that essence, was of that species. And though there neither were nor had been in nature such a beast as an unicorn, or such a fish as a mermaid ; yet supposing those names to stand for complex abstract ideas that contained no inconsistency in them, the essence of a mer- maid is as intelligible as that of a man ; and the idea of an uni- corn as certain, steady, and permanent as that of a horse. From what has been said, it is evident, that the doctrine of the immu- tability of essences proves them to be only abstract ideas ; and is founded* on the relation established between them and certain sounds as signs of them ; and will always be true as long as the same name can have the same signification. (■> 20. RECAPITULATION". To conclude, this is that which in short I would say, viz. that all the great business of genera and species, and their essences, amounts to no more but this, That men making abstract ideas, and settling them in their minds with names annexed to them, do thereby enable themselves to consider things, and discourse «f them, as it were, in bundles, for the easier and readier im- provement and communication of their knowledge; which would advance but slowly were their words and thoughts confined only fo particulars. CHAPTER IV. OF THE NAMES OF SIMILE IDLA.-. | i. JVAMES OF SIMPLE IDEAS, MODES, AND SUBSTANCES, HAVE LAUI SOMETHING PECULIAR. Though all words, as I have shown, signify nothing imme- diately, but the ideas in the mind of the speaker ; yet upon a nearer survey we shall find that the names of simple ideas, mixed moVles (under which I comprised relations too,) and natural substances, have each of them something peculiar and different from the other. For example : i H. iV.'j NAMES OI SIMI'LE IDEAS. -iSb § 2. 1. NAMES OK SIMPLE IDEAS AND SUBSTANCES INTIMATE RE AT. EXISTENCE. First, The names of simple ideas and substances, with the ■abstract ideas in the mind which they immediately signify, inti- mate also some real existence, from which was derived their original pattern. But the names of mixed modes terminate in the idea that is in the mind, and lead not the thoughts any farther, as we shall see more at large in the following chapter. §3. 2. NAMES OK SIMPLE IDEAS AND MODES SIGNIFY ALWAYS BOTE! HEAL AM) NOMINAL ESSENCE. Secondly, The names of simple ideas and modes signify always the real as well as nominal essence of their species. But. the names of natural substances signify rarely, if ever, any thing but barely the nominal essences of those species; as we shall show in the chapter that treats of the names of substances in particular. - § 4. 3. NAMES OK SIMPLE IDEAS UNDEEINABLE. Thirdly, The names of simple ideas are not capable of am vlelinition ; the names of all complex ideas are. It has not, that I know, been yet observed by any body what words are, and what are not capable of being defined ; the want whereof is (as I am apt to think) not seldom the occasion of great wrangling and obscurityin men's discourses, while some demand definitions of terms that cannot be defined ; and others think they ought not to rest satisfied in an explication made by a more general word, and its restriction (or, to speak in terms of art, by a genus and difference,) when even after such definition made according to rule, those who hear it have often no more a clear conception of the meaning of the word than they had before. This at least I think, that the showing what words are, and what are not capa- ble of definitions, and wherein consists a good definition, is not wholly besides our present purpose ; and perhaps will afford so much light to the nature of these signs, and our ideas, as tc*. deserve a more particular consideration. § 5. IK ALL WERE DEFINABLE, IT WOULD EE A PROCESS IM wfitlitnri! . 1 will not here trouble myself to prove that all terms are not definable from that progress in infinitum, which it will visibly lead us into, if we should allow that all names could be defined For if the terms of one definition were still to be defined b) another, where at last should we stop ? But I shall, from the nature of our ideas, and the signification of our words, show win some names can, and others cannot, be defined, and which the* arc. § 0. WHAT A DEFINITION JS. 1 think it is agreed that a definition is nothing else but th* fih owing the meaning of rmo word by several others not synenyV. .596 NAMES OP SIMPLE IDEA*. [BOOK II*. mous terms. The meaning of words being only the ideas they are made to stand for by him that uses them, the meaning of any term is then shown, or the word is defined, when by other words the idea it is made the sign of, and annexed to, in the mind of the speaker, is as it were represented or set before the view of ano- ther, and thus its signification ascertained; this is the only use and end of definitions ; and therefore the only measure of what is or is not a good definition. § 7. SIMPLE IDEAS WHY UNDEFINABLE. This being premised, I say that the names of simple ideas, and those only, are incapable of being defined. The reason whereof is this ; that the several terms of a definition, signifying several ideas, they can altogether by no means represent an idea, which has no composition at all : and therefore a definition, which is properly nothing but the showing the meaning of one word by several others not signifying each the same thing, can in the names of simple ideas have no place. § 8. INSTANCES ; MOTION. The not observing this difference in our ideas, and their names, has produced that eminent trifiing in the schools, which is so easy to be observed in the definitions they give us of some few of these simple ideas. For as to the greatest part of them, even those masters of definitions were fain to leave them untouched, merely by the impossibility they found in it. What more exqui- site jargon could the wit of man invent than this definition, "The act of a being in power as far forth as in power ?" which would puzzle any rational man, to whom it was not already known by its famous absurdity, to guess what word it could ever be supposed to be the explication of. If Tully, asking a Dutchman what " beweeginge" was, should have received this explication in his own language, that it was " actus entis in potentia quatenus in potentta;" I ask whether any one can imagine he could thereby have understood what the word " beweeginge" signified, or have guessed what idea a Dutchman ordinarily had in his mind, and would signify to another, when he used that sound. §9. Nor have the modern philosophers, who have endeavoured to throw off the jargon of the schools, and speak intelligibly, much better succeeded in defining simple ideas, whether by explaining their causes, or any otherwise. The atomists, who define motion to be a passage from one place to another, what do they more than put one synonymous word for another ? For what is pas- sage other than motion ? And if they were asked what passage was, how could they better define it than by motion? For is it not at least as proper and significant to say, passage is a motion from one place to another, as to say, motion is a passage. . II. IV. j lUS OP SIMPLE fBEAs. 39* &c. ? This is to translate, and not to define, when we change two words of the same signification one for another ; which, when one is better understood than the other, may serve to dis- cover what idea the unknown stands for ; but is very far from a definition, unless we will say every English word in the diction- ary is the definition of the Latin word it answers, and that mo- tion is a definition of molus. Nor will the successive applica- tion of the parts of the superficies of one body to those of another, which the Cartesians give us, prove a much better de- finition of motion, when well examined. § 10. LIGHT. " The act of perspicuous, as far forth as perspicuous," is another peripatetic definition of a simple idea ; which though not more absurd than the former of motion, yet betrays its useless- ness and insignificancy more plainly, because experience will easily convince any one, that it cannot make the meaning of the word light (which it pretends to define) at all understood by a blind man ; but the definition of motion appears not at first sight so useless, because it escapes this way of trial. For this simple idea, entering by the touch as well as sight, it is impossible to show an example of any one, who has no other way to get the idea of motion but barely by the definition of that name. Those who tell us that light is a great number of little globules, striking briskly on the bottom of the eye, speak more intelligibly than the schools ; but yet these words, ever so well understood, would make the idea the word light stands for no more known to a man that understands it not before, than if one should tell him that light was nothing but a company of little tennis-balls which fairies all day long struck with rackets against some men's foreheads, whilst they passed by others. For granting this ex- plication of the thing to be true, yet the idea of the cause of light, if we had it ever so exact, would no more give us the idea of light itself, as it is such a particular perception in us, than the idea of the figure and motion of a sharp piece of steel would give us the idea of that pain which it is able to cause in us. For the cause of any sensation, and the sensation itself, in all the simple ideas of one sense, are two ideas ; and two ideas so different and distant one from another, that no two can be more so. And therefore should Dcs Cartes's globules strike ever so long on the retina of a man, who was blind by a gutta serena, he would thereby never have any idea of light, or any thing approaching it, though he understood what little globules were, and what striking on another body was, ever so well. And therefore the Cartesians very well distinguish between that light which is the cause of that sensation in us, and the idea which is produced in us by it. and is that which is properly litfht Zdb - NAMES OF SIMPLE IDEAS. [BOOR III, §11. SIMPLE IDEAS WHY UNDEF1NABEE, FARTHER EXPLAINED. Simple ideas, as has been shown, are only to be got by those impressions objects themselves make on our minds, by the proper inlets appointed to each sort. If they are not received this way, all the words in the world, made use of to explain or define any of their names, will never be able to produce in us the idea it stands for. For words being sounds, can produce in us no other simple ideas than of those very sounds, nor excite any in us but by that voluntary connexion which is known to be between them and those simple ideas, which common use has made them signs of. He that thinks otherwise, let him try if any words can give him the taste of a pine-apple, and make him have the true idea of the relish of that celebrated delicious fruit. So far as he is told it has a resemblance with any tastes, whereof he has the ideas already in his memory, imprinted there by sensible objects not strangers to his palate, so far may he approach that resem- blance in his mind. But this is not giving us that idea by a definition, but exciting in us other simple ideas by their known names ; which will be still very different from the true taste of that fruit itself. In light and colours, and all other simple ideas, it is the same thing ; for the signification of sounds is not natural, but only imposed and arbitrary. And no definition of light or redness is more fitted or able to produce either of those ideas in us, than the sound light or red by itself. For to hope to produce an idea of light or colour by a sound, however formed, is to expect that sounds should be visible, or colours audible, and to make the ears do the office of all the other senses : which is all one as to say, that we might taste, smell, and see by the ears ; a sort of philosophy worthy only of Sancho Panca, who had the faculty to see Dulcinea by hearsay. And therefore he that has not before received into his mind, by the proper inlet, the simple idea which any word stands for, can never come to know the signification of that word by any other words or sounds whatsoever, put together according to any rules of definition. The only way is by applying to his senses the proper object, and so producing that idea in him, for which he has learned the name already. A studious blind man, who had mightily beat his head about visible objects, and made use of the explication of his books and friends to understand those names of light and colours which often came in his way, bragged one day that he now understood what scarlet signified. Upon which his friend demanding what scarlet was ? the blind man answered, It was like the sound of a trumpet. Just such an understanding of the name of any other simple idea will he have, who hopes to get it only from a definition, or other words mad< use of to explain it. ill. IV. J NAMES OK SIMPLE IDEAS. 39'J § 12. THE CONTRARY SHOWED IN COMPLEX IDEAS, BY INSTANCES 01' A STATUE AND RAINBOW. The case is quite otherwise in complex ideas ; which consist- ing of several simple ones, it is in the power of words, standing for the several ideas that make that composition, to imprint complex ideas in the mind which were never there before, and so make their names be understood. In such collections of ideas, passing under one name, definition, or the teaching the signification of one word by several others, has place, and may- make us understand the names of things which never came within the reach of our senses ; and frame ideas suitable to those in other men's minds, when they use those names : provided that none of the terms of the definition stand for any such simple ideas, which he to whom the explication is made has never yet had in his thought. Thus the word statue may be explained to a blind man by other words, when picture cannot ; his senses having given him the idea of figure, but not of colours, which therefore words cannot excite in him. This gained the prize to the painter against the statuary : each of which contending for the excellency of his art, and the statuary bragging that his was to be preferred, because it reached farther and even those who had lost their eyes could yet perceive the excellency of it, the painter agreed to refer himself to the judgment of a blind man : who being brought where there was a statue, made by the one, and a picture drawn by the other, he was first led to the statue, in which he traced with "his hands all the lineaments of the face and body, and with great admiration applauded the skill of the workman. But beiiig led to the picture, and having his hands laid upon it, was told that now he touched the head, and then the forehead, eyes, nose, words arc ible to excite them in his mind. 400 .NAMES OF SIMPLE IDEAs [BOOK III § 14. THE SAME OF COMPLEX IDEAS WHEN TO BE MADE INTELLIGIBLJT BY WORDS. Simple ideas, as has been showed, can only be got by expe- rience, from those objects which are proper to produce in us those perceptions. When by this means we have our minds stored with them, and know the names for them, then we are in condition to define, and by definition to understand the names of complex ideas, that are made up of them. But when any term stands for a simple idea, that a man has never yet had in his mind, it is impossible by any words to make known its meaning to him. When any term stands for an idea a man is acquainted with, but is ignorant that that term is a sign of it ; there another name, of the same idea which he has been accustomed to, may make him understand its meaning. But in no case whatsoever is any name of any simple idea capable of a definition. §15. 4. NAMES OF SIMPLE IDEAS LEAST DOUBTFUL. Fourthly, But though the names of simple ideas have not the help of definition to determine their signification, yet that hinders not but that they are generally less doubtful and uncertain than those of mixed modes and substances ; because they standing only for one simple perception, men, for the most part, easily and perfectly agree in their signification ; and there is little room for mistake and wrangling about their meaning. He that knows once that whiteness is the name of that colour he has observed in snow or milk, will not be apt to misapply that word, as long- as he retains that idea ; which when he has quite lost, he is not apt to mistake the meaning of it, but perceives he understands it not. There is neither a multiplicity of simple ideas to be put together, which makes the doubtfulness in the names of mixed modes ; nor a supposed but an unknown real essence, with pro- perties depending thereon, the precise number whereof is also unknown, which makes the difficulty in the names of substances. But on the contrary, in simple ideas the whole signification of the name is known at once, and consists not of parts, whereof more or less being put in, the idea may be varied, and so the sig- nification of name be obscure and uncertain. •§ 16. 5. simple ideas have few ascents in lined prcedicamentali. Fifthly, This farther may be observed concerning simple ideas and their names, that they have but few ascents in line i prcedica- mentali (as they call it) from the lowest species to the summum genus. The reason whereof is, that the lowest species being but one simple idea, nothing can be left out of it ; that so the difference being taken away, it may agree with some other thing in one idea common to them both ; which, having one name, is the genus of the other two : v. g. there is nothing that can be left out of the idea of white and red, to make them agree in one common appearance, and so have one general name ; as ration- CH. Y.j NAMES OF MIXED MODES. 401 ality being left out of the complex idea of man, makes it agree with brute, in the more general idea and name of animal : and therefore when, to avoid unpleasant enumerations, men would comprehend both white and red, and several other such simple ideas under one general name, they have been fain to do it by a word which denotes only the way they get into the mind. For when white, red, and yellow are all comprehended under the genu# or name colour, it signifies no more but such ideas as are produced in the mind only by the sight, and have entrance only through the eyes. And when they would frame yet a more general term, to comprehend both colours and sounds, and the like simple ideas, they do it by a word that signifies all such as come into the mind only by one sense : and so the general term quality, in its ordinary acceptation, comprehends colours, sounds, tastes, smells, and tangible qualities, with distinction from extension, number, motion, pleasure, and pain, which make impressions on the mind, and introduce their ideas by more senses than one. § 17. G. NAMES OF SIMPLE IDEAS NOT AT ALL ARBITRARV. Sixthly, The names of simple ideas, substances, and mixed modes, have also this difference ; that those of mixed modes stand for ideas pei fectly arbitrary ; those of substances are not perfectly so, but 1 efer to a pattern, though with some latitude ; and those of simple ideas are perfectly taken from the existence of things, and are not arbitrary at all. Which, what difference it makes in the significations of their names, we shall see in the following chapters. The names of simple modes differ little from those of simple ideas. CHAPTER V. OF THE NAMES OF MIXED MODES AND RELATIONS. § 1. THEY STAND FOR ABSTRACT IDEAS, AS OTHER GENERAL NAMES. The names of mixed modes being general, they stand, as has been shown, for sorts or species of things, each of which has its peculiar essence. The essences of these species also, as has been showed, are nothing but the abstract ideas in the mind, to which the name is annexed. Thus far the names and essences of mixed modes have nothing but what is common to them with other ideas : but if we take a little nearer survey of them, we shall find that they have something peculiar, which perhaps may deserve our attention. Vol. I. 51 40.2 NAME? OK MIXED MODE-. [BOOK I.,. § 2. 1. THE IDEAS TI1EV STAND FOR ARE MADE BY THE UNDER- STANDING. The first particularity I shall observe in them is, that the abstract ideas, or, if you please, the essences of the several spe- cies of mixed modes are made by the understanding, wherein they differ from those of simple ideas : in which sort the mind has no power to make any one, but only receives such as are presented to it by the real existence of things operating upon it. § 3. 2. MADE ARBITRARILY, AND "WITHOUT PATTERNS. In the next place, these essences of the species of mixed modes are not only made by the mind, but made very arbitrarily, made without patterns, or reference to any real existence. Wherein they differ from those of substances, which carry with them the supposition of some real being, from which they are taken, and to which they are conformable. But in its complex ideas of mixed modes, the mind takes a liberty not to follow the existence of things exactly. It unites and retains certain collections, as so many distinct specific ideas, whilst others, that as often occur in nature, and are as plainly suggested by outward things, pass neglected, without particular names or specifications. Nor docs the mind, in these of mixed modes, as in the complex idea of substances, examine them by the real existence of things ; or verify them by patterns, containing such peculiar compositions in nature. To know whether his idea of adultery or incest be right, will a man seek it any where among things existing ? Or is it true, because any one has been witness tp, such an action ? No : but it suffices here, that men have put together such a collection into one complex idea, that makes the archetype and specific idea, whether ever any such action were committed in rerum nfttura or no. § 4. HOW THIS IS DONE. To understand this right, we must consider wherein this making of these complex ideas consists ; and that is not in the making any new idea, but putting together those which the mind had before. Wherein the mind does these three things ; first, it chooses a certain number ; secondly, it gives them connexion, and makes them into one idea ; thirdly, it ties them together by a name. If we examine how the mind proceeds in these, and what liberty it takes in them, we shall easily observe how these essences of the species of mixed modes are the workmanship of the mind, and consequently, that the species themselves are of men's making. &..& I'VJDENTLY ARBEIT, ARY. Pi THAI Till; IPEA is OK1TX 1!K1 ORE Tll.V EXISTENCE. Nobody can doubt, but that these ideas 'oi mixed modes aiv made bv ;i voluntary collection of ideas put together in tlfe mind. ill. V.J »ES Off kMXED MOD-ES. IQJ independent from any original patterns in nature, w lio will bin reflect that this sort of complex idea? may be made, abstracted, and have names given them, and so a species be constituted. before anv one individual of that species ever existed. "Who can doubt but the ideas of sacrilege or adultery might he framed in the minds of men, and have names given them; and so these species of mixed modes be constituted, before either of them was ever committed ; and might be as well discoursed of and reasoned about, and as certain truths discovered of them, whilst yet they had no being but in the understanding, as well as now, that they have but too frequently a real existence-.'' Whereby it is plain. how much the sorts of mixed modes are the creatures of the understanding; where they have a being as subservient to all the ends of real truth and knowledge, as when they really exist : and we cannot doubt but law-makers have often made laws about species of actions, which were only the creatures of their own understandings ; beings that had no other existence but in their own minds. And I think nobody can deny, but that the resur- rection was a species of mixed modes in the mind before it really existed. § tj. INSTANCES ; MURDER, INCEST, SCABBING. To see how arbitrarily these essences of mixed modes are made by the mind, we need but lake a view of almost any of them. A little looking into them will satisfy us, that it is the mind that combines several scattered independent ideas into one complex one, and, by the common name it gives them, makes them the essence of a certain species, without regulating itself by any connexion they have in nature. For what greater con- nexion in nature has the idea of a man, than the idea of a sheep, with killing ; that this is made a particular species of action, signified by the word murder, and the other not ! Or what union is there in nature between the idea of the relation of a father with killing, than that of a son, or neighbour: that those are combined into one complex idea, and thereby made the essence of the distinct species parricide, whilst the other make no distinct species at all ? But though they have made killing a man's father, or mother, a distinct species from killing h;> son, or daughter ; yet, in some other cases, son and daughter are taken in too, as well as father and mother ; and they are all equally comprehended in the same species, as in that of incest. Thus the mind in mixed modes arbitrarily unites into complex ideas such as it funis convenient ; whilst others, that have alto- gether as much union in nature, are left loose, and never com- bined into one idea, be< ause they have, no need of one name. It . evident, (hen. that the mind by its free choice gives a connexion to a certain number of ideas, which in nature have no more union with one another, than others that it leaves out: why else is the part of the weapon, the beginning of the wound is made with. -10-i NAMES OP MIXED MODES. [BOOK III. 1a ken notice of to make the distinct species called stabbing, and the figure and matter of the weapon left out ? I do not say this is done without reason, as Ave shall see more by and by ; but this, I say, that it is done by the free choice of the mind, pursuing its own ends ; and that therefore these species of mixed modes are the workmanship of the understanding : and there is nothing more evident, than that, for the most part, in the framing these ideas the mind searches not its patterns in nature, nor refers the ideas it makes to the real existence of things; but puts such together, as may best serve its own purposes, without tying itself to a precise imitation of any thing that really exists. § 7. BUT STILL SUBSERVIENT TO THE END OF LANGUAGE. But though these complex ideas, or essences of mixed modes, depend on the mind, and are made by it with great liberty ; yet they are not made at random, and jumbled together without any reason at all. Though these complex ideas be not always copied from nature, yet they are always suited to the end for which abstract ideas are made : and though they be combinations made of ideas that are loose enough, and have as little union in them- selves, as several others to which the mind never gives a con- nexion that combines them into one idea ; yet they are always made for the convenience of communication, which is the chief end of language. The use of language is by short sounds to signify with ease and despatch general conceptions ; wherein not only abundance of particulars may be contained, but also a great variety of independent ideas collected into one complex one. In the making therefore of the species of mixed modes, men have had regard only to such combinations as they had occasion to mention one to another. Those they have combined into distinct complex ideas, and given names to ; whilst others, that in nature have as near a union, are left loose and unregarded. For to go no farther than human actions themselves, if they would make distinct abstract ideas of all the varieties might be observed in them, the number must be infinite, and the memory confounded "with the plenty, as well as overcharged to little purpose. It suffices, that men make and name so many complex ideas of these mixed modes, as they find they have occasion to have names for, in the ordinary occurrence of their affairs. If they join to the idea of killing the idea of father, or mother, and so make a dis- tinct species from killing a man's son or neighbour, it is because of the different heinousness of the crime, and the distinct punish- ment is due to the murdering a man's father and mother, different from what ought to be inflicted on the murder of a son or neigh- hour ; and therefore they find it necessary to mention it by a distinct name, which is the end of making that distinct combina- tion. But though the ideas of mother and daughter are so differ- ently treated, in reference to the idea of killing, that the one is ioined with it, to make a distinct abstract idea with a name, and i JI. V.} NAMES OF MIXED MODES. 406 so a distinct species, and the other not ; yet in respect of carnal knowledge, they are both taken in under incest : and that still for the same convenience of expressing under one name, and reckoning of one species, such unclean mixtures as have a pecu- liar turpitude beyond others ; and this to avoid circumlocutions and tedious descriptions. $ 8. WHEREOF THE INTRAIS'Sr.ATAIU.E WO EDS OE DIVERS LANGUAGES ARE A PROOF. A moderate skill in different languages will easily satisfy one of the truth of this, it being so obvious to observe great store of words in one language, which have not any that answer them in another. Which plainly shows, that those of one country, by their customs and manner of life, have found occasion to make several complex ideas, and given names to them, which others never collected into specific ideas. This could not have hap- pened, if these species were the steady workmanship of nature, and not collections made and abstracted by the mind, in order to naming, and for the convenience of communication. The terms of our law, which are not empty sounds, will hardly find words that answer them in the Spanish or Italian, no scanty languages ; much less, 1 think, could any one translate them into the Carib- bee or Westoe tongues : and the Vcrsura of the Romans, or Corban of the Jews, have no words in other languages to answer them ; the reason whereof is plain, from what has been said. Nay, if we look a little more nearly into this matter, and exactly compare different languages, we shall find, that though they have words which in translations and dictionaries are supposed to answer one another, yet there is scarce one of ten among the names of complex ideas, especially of mixed modes, that stands for the same precise idea, which the word does that in dictiona- ries it is rendered by. There are no ideas more common, and less compounded, than the measures of time, extension, and weight, and the Latin names, hora. pes, libra, are without diffi- culty rendered by the English names, hour, foot, and pound : but yet there is nothing more evident, than that the ideas a Roman annexed to these Latin names were very far different from those which an Englishman expresses by those English ones. And if either of these should make use of the measures that those of the other language designed by their names, he would be quite out in his account. These are too sensible proofs to be doubted ; and we shall find this much more so, in the names of more abstract and compounded ideas, such as arc the greatest part of those which make up moral discourses ; whose names, when men come curiously to compare with those they are translated into, in other languages, they will find very few of them exactly to correspond in the whole extent of their signifi- cations. 406 NAM?ES OF MIXED MOUEn [bO'O'K III, § 9. THIS SHOWS SPECIES TO BE MADE FOR COMMUNICATION. The reason why I take so particular notice of this is, that we may not be mistaken about genera and species, and their essen- ces, as if they were things regularly and constantly made by nature, and had a real existence in things ; when they appear, upon a more wary survey, to be nothing else but an artifice of the understanding, for the easier signifying such collections of ideas as it should often have occasion to communicate by one general term ; under which divers particulars, as far forth as they agreed to that abstract idea, might be comprehended. And if the doubtful signification of the word species may make it sound harsh to some, that I say the species of mixed modes are made by the understanding ; yet, I think, it can by nobody be denied, that it is the mind makes those abstract complex ideas to which specific names are given. And if it be true, as it is. that the mind makes the patterns for sorting and naming of things, I leave it to be considered who makes the boundaries of the sort or species ; since with me species and sort have no other difference than that of a Latin and English idiom. $ 10. IN MIXED MODES IT IS THE NAME THAT TIES THE COMBINATION TOGETHER, AND MAKES IT A SPECIES. The near relation that there is between species, essences, and their general name, at least in mixed modes, will farther appear, when we consider that it is the name that seems to preserve those essences, and give them their lasting duration. For the connexion between the loose parts of those complex ideas being made by the mind, this union, which has no particular foundation in nature, would cease again, were there not something that did. as it were, hold it together, and keep the parts from scattering. Though therefore it be the mind that makes the collection, it is the name which is as it were the knot that ties them fast to- gether. What a vast variety of different ideas does the word trhunphus hold together, and deliver to us as one species ! Had this name been never made, or quite lost, we might, no doubt, have had descriptions of what passed in that solemnity : but yet, I think, that which holds those different parts together, in the unity of one complex idea, is that very word annexed to it ; without which the several parts of that would no more be thought to make one thing, than any other show, which, having never been made but once, had never been united into one complex idea, under one denomination. How much, therefore, in mixed modes, the unity necessary to any essence depends on lie mind, and how much the continuation and fixing of that unity epends on the name in common use annexed to it, I leave to be considered by those who look upon essences and species as real established things in nature. Ml. Y.j KAJUflS OF MIXED MODES. 40? §11. Suitable to this, we find, that men speaking of mixed modes, seldom imagine or take any other for species of them, but such as are set out by name : because they being of man's making only, in order to naming, no such species are taken notice of, or supposed to be, unless a name be joined to it, as the sign of a man's having combined into one idea several loose ones : and by that name giving a lasting union to the parts, which could other- wise cease to have any, as soon as the mind laid by that abstract idea, and ceased actually to think on it. But when a name is once annexed to it, wherein the parts of that complex idea have a settled and permanent union ; then is the essence as it were established, and the species looked on as complete. For to what purpose should the memory charge itself with such compositions, unless it were by abstraction to make them general 1 And to what purpose make them general, unless it were that they might have general names, for the convenience of discourse and communi- cation ? Thus we see, that killing a man with a sword or a hatchet, are looked on as no distinct species of action : but if the point of the sword first enter the body, it passes for a distinct species, where it has a distinct name; as in England, in whose language it is called stabbing: but in another country, where it has not happened to be specified under a peculiar name, it passes not for a distinct species. But in the species of corpo- real substances, though it be the mind that makes the nominal essence ; yet since those ideas which are combined in it are supposed to have a union in nature, whether the mind joins them or no, therefore those are looked on as distinct names, without any operation of the mind, either abstracting or giving a name to that complex idea. N \%, FOIt THE ORIGINALS OF MIXED MODES, WE LOOK NO FARTHER THAN THE MIND, WHICH ALSO SHOWS THEM TO BE THE WORKMAN- SHIP OF THE I'NDKKSTANDINO. Conformable also to what has been said, concerning the essen- ces of the species of mixed modes, that they are the creatures of the understanding, rather than the works of nature: conform- able, I say, to this, we find that their names lead our thoughts to the mind, and no farther. When we speak of justice, or gratitude, we frame to ourselves no imagination of any thing ex- isting, which we would conceive ; but our thoughts terminate in ihe abstract ideas of those virtues, and look not farther : as they dOj w hen we speak of a horse, or iron, whose specific ideas we consider not, as barely in the mind, but as in things themselves, which afford the original patterns of those ideas. But in mixed modes, al least the most considerable parts of them, which are. moral beings, we consider the original patterns as being in the mind: and to thos* r fori the distinguishing of particular 408 NAMES OP MIXED MODES. [BOOK III, beings under names. And hence I think it is, that these essences of the species of mixed modes are by a more particular name called notions, as, by a peculiar right, appertainingto the understanding. § 13. THEIR BEING MADE BY THE UNDERSTANDING WITHOUT PATTERNS SHOWS THE REASON WHY THEY ARE SO COMPOUNDED. Hence likewise we may learn, why the complex ideas of mixed modes are commonly more compounded and decompounded than those of natural substances. Because they being the workmanship of the understanding pursuing only its own ends, and the conve- niency of expressing in short those ideas it would make known to another, it does with great liberty unite often into one abstract idea things that in their nature have no coherence ; and so, under one term, bundle together a great variety of compounded and decompounded ideas. Thus the name of procession, what a great mixture of independent ideas of persons, habits, tapers, orders, motions, sounds, does it contain in that complex one, which the mind of man has arbitrarily put together, to express by that one name ! Whereas the complex ideas of the sorts of substances are usually made up of only a small number of simple ones; and in the species of animals, these two, viz. shape and voice, commonly make the whole nominal essence. § 14. NAMES OF MIXED MODES STAND ALWAYS FOR THEIR REAL ESSENCES. Another thing we may observe from what has been said is, that the names of mixed modes always signify (when they have any determined signification) the real essences of their species. For these abstract ideas being the workmanship of the mind, and not referred to the real existence of things, there is no supposition of any thing more signified by that name, but barely that complex idea the mind itself has formed, which is all it would have expressed by it : and is that on which all the properties of the species depend, and from which alone they all flow : and so in these the real and nominal essence is the same ; which of what concernment it is to the certain knowledge of general truth, we shall see hereafter. § 15. WHY THEIR NAMES ARE USUALLY GOT BEFORE THEIR IDEAS. This also may show us the reason, why for the most part the names of mixed modes are got before the ideas they stand for are perfectly known. Because there being no species of these ordinarily taken notice of, but what have names ; and those spe- cies, or rather their essences, being abstract complex ideas made arbitrarily by the mind ; it is convenient, if not necessary, to know the names, before one endeavour to frame these complex ideas : unless a man will fill his head with a company of abstract complex ideas, which others having no names for, he has nothing to do with, but to lay by, and forget again. I confess, that in the ell. V.J NAMES OP MIXED MODES. 409 beginning of languages it was necessary to have the idea, before one gave it the name : and so it is still, where making a new complex idea, one also, by giving it a new name, makes a new word. But this concerns not languages made, which have generally pretty well provided tor ideas, which men have fre- quent occasion to have and communicate : and in such, I ask, whether it be not the ordinary method, that children learn the names of mixed modes, before they have their ideas ? What one of a thousand ever frames the abstract ideas of glory and ambi- tion, before he has heard the names of them ? In simple ideas and substances I grant it is otherwise ; which being such ideas as have a real existence and union in nature, the ideas and names •are got one before the other, as it happens. 6 16. REASON OF MV BEING SO LARGE ON THIS .SUBJECT. "What has been said here of mixed modes, is with very litt;e difference applicable also to relations ; which, since every man himself may observe, I may spare myself the pains to enlarge on : especially, since what I have here said concerning words in this third book, will possibly be thought by some to be much more than what so slight a subject required. I allow it might be Drought into a narrower compass ; but I was willing to stay my reader on an argument that appears to me new, and a little out of the way (I am sure it is one I thought not of when I began to write,) that by searching it to the bottom, and turning it on every side, some part or other might meet with every one's thoughts, and give occasion to the most averse or negligent to reflect on a general miscarriage, which, though of great consequence, is little taken notice of. When it is considered what a pudder is made about essences, and how much all sorts of knowledge, discourse, and conversation are pestered and disordered by the careless and confused use and application of words, it will perhaps be thought worth while thoroughly to lay it open. And 1 shall be pardoned if I have dwelt long on an argument which 1 think therefore needs to be inculcated ; because the faults men are usually guilty of in this kind, are not only the greatest hinderances of true- knowledge, but are so well thought of as to pass for it. Men would often see what a small pittance of reason and truth, or possibly none at all, is mixed with those huffing opinions they are swelled with, if they would but look beyond fashionable sounds, and observe what ideas are, or are not comprehended under those words with which they are so armed at all points, and with which they so confidently lay about them. 1 shall imagine I have done some service to truth, peace, and learning, if, by any enlargement on this subject, I can make men reflect on their own use of lan- guage ; and give them reason to suspect, that since it is frequent for others, it may also be possible for them to have sometimes ' py good and approved words in their mouths and writings, with Vol. I. liC AAMES OF bLJ5Sl'AJ\CES. [liOOJv ill, very uncertain, little, or no signification. And therefore it is not unreasonable for them to be wary herein themselves, and not to be unwilling to have them examined by others. With this design, therefore, 1 shall go on with what I have farther to say concerning ibis matter. CHAPTER VI. OF THE NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. $ 1. THE COMMON NAMES OF SUBSTANCES STAND FOR SORTS. The common names of substances, as well as other general terms, stand for sorts ; which is nothing else but the being made signs of such complex ideas, wherein several particular sub- stances do, or might agree, by virtue of which they are capable of being comprehended in one common conception, and signified by one name. I say, do or might agree : for though there be but one sun existing in the world, yet the idea of it being abstracted, so that more substances (if there were several) might each agree in it ; it is as much a sort, as if there were as many suns as there arc stars. They want not their reasons who think there are, and that each fixed star would answer the idea the name sun stands for, to one who was placed in a due distance ; which, by the way, may show us how much the sorts, or, if you please, genera and species of things (for those Latin terms signify to me no more than the English word sort) depend on such collections of ideas as men have made, and not on the real nature of things ; since it is not impossible but that, in propriety of speech, that might be a sun to one, which is a star to another. § 2. THE ESSENCE OF EACH SORT IS THE ABSTRACT IDEA.. The measure and boundary of each sort, or species, whereb} it is constituted that particular sort, and distinguished from others, is that we call its essence, which is nothing but that abstract idea to which the name is annexed : so that every thing contained in that idea is essential to that sort. This, though it be all the essence of natural substances that we know, or by which we distinguish them into sorts ; yet I call it by a peculiar name, the nominal essence, to distinguish it from the real constitution of substances, upon which depends this nominal essence, and all the properties of that sort ; which therefore, as has been said, may be called the real essence : v. g. the nominal essence of gold is that complex idea the word gold stands for, let it be, for instance, a body yellow, of a certain weight, malleable, fusible, and lived. But the real essence is the constitution of the insensible parts of that body, on which those qualities and all the othei .». VI. j N*iMES OF SUBSTANCSi properties of gold depend. How far these two are different, though they are both called essence, is obvious nt first sight to discover. vj> li. THE NOMINAL AND REAL ESSENCE DIFFERENT. 1 'or though perhaps voluntary motion, with sense and reason, joined to a body of a certain shape, be the complex idea to which I, and others, annex the name man, and so be the nominal essence, of the species so called ; yet nobody will say that complex idea is the real essence and source of all those operations which are to be found in any individual of that sort. The foundation of all those qualities, which are the ingredients of our complex idea,i.-> something quite different : and had we such a knowledge of that constitution of man, from which his faculties of moving, sensa- tion, and reasoning, and other powers flow, and on which his so regular shape depends, as it is possible angels have, and it is certain his Maker has ; we should have a quite other idea of his essence than what now is contained in our definition of that spe- cies, be it what it will: and our idea of any individual man would be as far different from what it is now, as is his who knows all the springs and wheels and other contrivances within, of the famous clock at Strasburg, from that which a gazing countryman has for it, who barely sees the motion of the hand, and hears the clock strike, and observes only some of the outward appear- ances. - 4. NOTHING ESSENTIAL TO INDIVIDUALS. That essence, in the ordinary use of the word, relates to sorts ; and that it is considered in particular beings no farther than as they are ranked into sorts ; appears from hence : that take but. away the abstract ideas, by which we sort individuals, and rank them under common names, and then the thought of any thing essential to any of them instantly vanishes ; we have no notion of the one without the other ; which plainly shows their relation, ft is necessary for me to be as 1 am ; God and nature has made me so : but there is nothing I have is essential to me. An acci- dent, or disease, may very much alter my colour, or shape ; a fever, or fall, may take away my reason or memory, or both, and an apoplexy leave neither sense nor understanding, no, nor life', Other creatures of my shape maybe made with more and better, or lewer and worse faculties than I have ; and others may have reason arur sense in a shape and body very different from mine. None of these are essential to the one, or the other, or to any individual whatever, till the mind refers it to some sort or species of things ; and then presently, according to the abstract idea of that sort, something is found essential. Let any one examine his own thoughts, and he will find that as soon as he supposes 01 speaks of essential, the consideration of some species, or the. complex idea. sisrnifiVd bv some een^'al name, come* into his -312 NAMES OF SUBSTANCE^. [COOKJII. mind ; and it is in reference to that, that this or that quality is said to be essential. So that if it be asked, whether it be essen- tial to me or any other particular corporeal being to have reason? 1 say no ; no more than it is essential to this white thing I write on to have words in it. But if that particular being be to be counted of the sort man, and to have the name man given it, then reason is essential to it, supposing reason to be a part of the complex idea the name man stands for ; as it is essential to this thing I write on to contain words, if I will give it the name trea- tise, and rank it under that species. So that essential, and not essential, relate only to our abstract ideas, and the names annexed to them : which amounts to no more but this, that whatever particular thing has not in it those qualities, which are contained in the abstract idea, which any general term stands for, cannot be ranked under that species, nor be called by that name, since that abstract idea is the very essence of that species. §5. Thus if the idea of body, with some people, be bare extension or space, then solidity is not essential to body : if others make the idea, to which they give the name body, to be solidity and extension, then solidity is essential to body. That, therefore, and that alone, is considered as essential, which makes a part of the complex idea the name of a sort stands for, without which no particular thing can be reckoned of that sor^, nor be entitled to that name. Should there be found a parcel of matter that had all the other qualities that are in iron, but wanted obedience to the loadstone ; and would neither be drawn by it, nor receive direction from it ; would any one question, whether it wanted any tiling essential ? It would be absurd to ask, Whether a thing really existing wanted any thing essential to it. Or could it be demanded, Whether this made an essential or specific difference or no ; since we have no other measure essential or specific, but our abstract ideas 1 And to talk of specific differences in nature, without reference to general ideas and names, is to talk unintelli- gibly. For I would ask any one, What is suflicient to make an essential difference in nature, between any two particular beings. without any regard had to some abstract idea, which is looked upon as the essence and standard of a species ? All such patterns and standards being quite laid aside, particular beings, considered barely in themselves, will be found to have all their qualities equally essential ; and every thing, in each individual, will be essential to it, or, which is more, nothing at all. For though it may be reasonable to ask, Whether obeying the magnet be essential to iron ? yet, I think, it is very improper and insignifi- cant to ask, Whether it be essential to the particular parcel of matter I cut my pen with, without considering it under the name rron. ov as being of a -certain species ? And if. as ha« been said. I II. VI.] NAMES Or SUBSTANCES. 413 our abstract ideas, which have names annexed to them, are the boundaries of species, nothing can be essential but what is con- tained in those ideas. §6. It is true, I have often mentioned a real essence, distinct in substances from those abstract ideas of them, which I call their* nominal essence. By this real essence I mean the real constitu- lion of any thing, which is the foundation of all those properties ihat are combined in, and are constantly found to coexist with the nominal essence ; that particular constitution which every thing has within itself, without any relation to any thing without it. But essence, even in this sense, relates to a sort, and sup- poses a species : for being that real constitution, on which the properties depend, it necessarily supposes a sort of things, pro- perties belonging only to species, and not to individuals, v. g. supposing the nominal essence of gold to be a body of such a peculiar colour and weight, with malleability and fusibility, the real essence is that constitution of the parts of matter, on which these qualities and their union depend ; and is also the founda- tion of its solubility in aqua regia and other properties accompa- nying that complex idea. Here are essences and properties, but all upon supposition of a sort, or general abstract idea, which is considered as immutable : but there is no individual parcel of matter, to which any of these^qualities are so annexed, as to be essential * to be found. § 10. NOT SUBSTANTIAL FORMS, WHICH WE KNOW Li Those therefore who have been taught, that the several specie.- of substances had their distinct internal substantial forms ; and that it was those forms which made the distinction of substances into their true species and genera ; were led yet farther out of the way, by having their minds set upon fruitless inquiries after substantial forms, wholly unintelligible, and whereof we have scarce so much as any obscure or confused conception in general. (1. THAT THE NOMINAL ESSENCE IS THAT WHEREBY WE DISTING1 SPECIES FARTHER EVIDENT FROM SPIRITS. That our ranking and distinguishing natural substances in species, consists in the ndminal essences the mind makes, and not in the real essences to be found in the things themselves, is farther evident from our ideas of spirits. For the mind getting, only by reflecting on its own operations, those simple ideas which it attributes to spirits, it hath, or can have no other notion of spirit, but by attributing all those operations, it finds in itself, to a soil of beings, without consideration of matter. And even th. mosl advanced notion i e have of God ;'; I":' attributing lh< 41U NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. [ BOOK III". same simple ideas which we have got from reflection on what we tind in ourselves, and which we conceive to have more perfec- tion in them, than would he in their absence ; attributing, I say, those simple ideas to him in an unlimited degree. Thus having got, from reflecting on ourselves, the idea of existence, know- ledge, power, and pleasure, each of which we find it better to have than to want ; and the more we have of each the better : joining all these together, with infinity to each of them, we have the complex idea of an eternal, omniscient, omnipotent, infinitely wise and happy Being. And though we are told, that there are difFerent species of angels; yet we know not how to frame distinct specific ideas of them : not out of any conceit that the existence of more species than one of spirits is impossible, but because having no more simple ideas nor being able to frame more) applicable to such beings, but only those few taken from our- selves, and from the actions of our own minds in thinking, and being delighted, and moving several parts of our bodies, we can no otherwise distinguish in our conceptions the several species of spirits one from another, but by attributing those operations and powers, we find in ourselves, to them in a higher or lower degree ; and so have no very distinct specific ideas of spirits, except only of God, to whom we attribute both duration, and all those other ideas with infinity ; to the other spirits, with limitation. Nor as I humbly conceive do we, between God and them in our ideas, put any difference by any number of simple ideas, which we have of one and not of the other, but only that of infinity. All the particular ideas of existence, knowledge, will, power, and motion, &c. being ideas derived from the operations of our minds, we attribute all of them to all sorts of spirits, with the difference only of degrees, to the utmost we can imagine, even infinity, when we would frame, as well as we can, an idea of the first being ; who yet, it is certain, is infinitely more remote, in the real excellency of his nature, from the highest and perfectest of all created beings, than the greatest man, nay purest seraph, is from the most contemptible part of matter ; and consequently must infinitely exceed what our narrow understandings can con- ceive of him. § 12. WHEREOF THERE ARE PROBABLY JTUMBERLESS SPECIES. It is not impossible to conceive, nor repugnant to reason, that there may be many species of spirits, as much separated and di- versified one from another by distinct properties whereof we have no ideas, as the species of sensible things are distinguished one from another by qualities which we know and observe in them. That there should be more species of intelligent crea- tures above us, than there are of sensible and material below us, is probable to me from hence ; that in all the visible, corporeal world, we see no chasms or gaps. All quite down from us the descent is by easy steps, and a continued series of things-, that in CH. VI. j "NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. 417 each remove differ very little one from the oilier. There are fishes that have wings, and are not strangers to the airy region ; and there are some birds that are inhabitants of the water, whose blood is cold as fishes, and their flesh so like in taste, that the scrupulous are allowed them on tish-days. There are animals so near of kin both to birds and beasts, that they are in the middle between both : amphibious animals link the terrestrial and aquatic together ; seals live at land and sea, and porpoises have the warm blood and entrails of a hog, not to mention what is confidently reported of mermaids or sea-men. There are some brutes, that seem to have as much knowledge and reason as some that are called men ; and the animal and vegetable "kingdoms are so nearly joined, that if you will take the lowest of one, and the highest of the other, there ^.will scarce be perceived any great difference between them ; and so on, till we come to the lowest and the most inorganical parts of matter, we shall find every where, that the several species are linked together, and differ but in almost insensible degrees. And when we consider the infinite power and wisdom of the Maker, we have reason to think, that it is suitable to the magnificent harmony of the uni- verse, and the great design and infinite goodness of the Architect, that the species of creatures should also, by gentle degrees, ascend upward from us toward his infinite perfection, as we see they gradually descend from us downward : which if it be pro- bable, we have reason then to be persuaded, that there are far more species of creatures above us than there are beneath : we being, in degrees of perfection, much more remote from the infi- nite being of God, than we are from the lowest state of being, and that which approaches neareat to nothing. And yet of all those distinct species, for the reasons above said, we have no clear distinct ideas. § 13. THE NOMINAL ESSENCE THAT OF THE SPECIES, TROVED FROM WATER AND ICE. But to return to the species of corporeal substances. If I should ask any one, whether ice and water were two distinct species of things, I doubt not but I should be answered in the affirmative : and it cannot be denied, but he that says they are two distinct species is in the right. But if an Englishman, bred in Jamaica, who perhaps had never seen or heard of ice, coming into England in the winter, find the water he put in his basin at night, in a great part frozen in the morning, and not knowing any peculiar name it had, should call it hardened water ; 1 ask, whether this would not be a new species to him different from water ? And, I think, it would be answered here, it would not be to him a new species, no more than congealed jelly, when it is eold, is a distinct species from the same jelly fluid and warm ; or than liquid gold in the furnace is a distinct species from hard gold in the hands of a workman. And if this be so, it is plain. 1 ' . I- 53 418 NAMES OP SUBSTANCES. [BOOK til. that our distinct species are nothing but distinct complex ideas, with distinct names annexed to them. It is true, every substance that exists, has its peculiar constitution, whereon depend those sensible qualities and powers we observe in it ; but the ranking of things into species, which is nothing but sorting them under several titles, is done by us according to the ideas we have of them : which though sufficient to distinguish them by names, so that we may be able to discourse of them, when we have them not present before us ; yet if we suppose it to be done by their real internal constitutions, and that things existing are distin- guished by nature into species, by real essences, according as we distinguish them into species by names, we, shall be liable to great mistakes. § 14. DIFFICULTIES AGAINST A CERTAIN NUMBER OF REAL ESSENCES. To distinguish substantial beings into species, according to the usual supposition, that there are certain precise essences or forms of things, whereby all the individuals existing are by nature dis- tinguished into species, these things are necessary. § 15. First, To be assured that nature, in the production of things., always designs them to partake of certain regulated established essences, which are to be the models of all things to be produced. This, in that crude sense it is usually proposed, would need some belter explication before it can be wholly assented to. §16. Secondly, It would be necessary to know whether nature always attains that essence it designs in the production of things. The irregular and monstrous births, that in divers sorts of animals have been observed, will always give us reason to doubt of one or both of these. §17. Thirdly, It ought to be determined whether those we call monsters be really a distinct species, according to the scholastic notion of the word species ; since it is certain that every thing fhat exists has its particular constitution : and yet we find that some of these monstrous productions have few or none of those qualities, which are supposed to result from, and accompany the essence of that species, from whence they derive their originals, and to which, by their descent, they seem to belong. § 18. OUR NOMINAL ESSENCES OF SUBSTANCES NOT PERFECT COL- LECTIONS OF PROPERTIES. Fourthly, The real essences of those things, which we distin- guish into species, and as so distinguished we name, ought to bo known : ?, e. we ought to have ideas of them. But since w* AM. Vl/j NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. 419 ignorant in these four points, the supposed real essences of things stand us not in stead for the distinguishing substances into species. § 19. Fifthly, The only imaginable help in this case would be, that having framed perfect complex ideas of the properties of things, flowing from their different real essences, we should thereby distinguish them into species. But neither can this be done ; for being ignorant of the real essence itself, it is impossible to know iill those properties that flow from it, and are so annexed to it, that any one of them being away, we may certainly conclude, that that essence is not there, and so the thing is not of that spe- cies. We can never know what are the precise number of pro- perties depending on the real essence of gold, any one of which I'ailing, the real essence of gold, and consequently gold, would not be there, unless we knew the real essence of gold itself, and by that determined that species. By the word gold here, I must be understood to design a particular piece of matter ; v. g. the last guinea that was coined. For if it should stand here in its ordinary signification for that complex idea, which I or any one else calls gold ; i. e. for the nominal essence of gold, it would be jargon : so hard is it to show the various meaning and imperfection of words, when we have nothing else but words to xlo it by. §20. By all which it is clear, that our distinguishing substances into species by names, is not at all founded on their real essences ; nor can we pretend to range and determine them exactly into species^ according to the internal essential differences. § 21. BUT SUCH A COLLECTION AS OUR NAME STANDS FOR. But since, as has been remarked, we have need of general words, though we know not the real essences of things ; all we can do is to collect such a number of simple ideas, as by exami- nation we find to be united together in things existing, and thereof io make one complex idea : which, though it be not the real essence of any substance that exists, is yet the specific essence to which our name belongs, and is convertible with it ; by which we may at least try the truth of these nominal essences. For example, there be that say, that the essence of body is extension : if it be so, we can never mistake in putting the essence of any thing for the thing itself. Let us then in discourse put extension for body ; and when we would say that body moves, let us say that extension moves, and sec how ill it will look. He that should say that one extension by impulse moves another exten- sion, would, by the bare expression, sufficiently show the absur- dity of such a notion. The essence of any thing, in respect of 420 NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. [BOOK III. lis, is the whole complex idea, comprehended and marked by that name ; and in substances, besides the several distinct simple ideas that make them up, the confused one of substance, or of an unknown support and cause of their union, is always a part : and therefore the essence of body is not bare extension, but an extended solid thing ; and so to say an extended solid thing moves, or impels another, is all one, and as intelligible as to say, body moves or impels. Likewise to say, that a rational animal is capable of conversation, is all one as to say a man. But no one will say, that rationality is capable of conversation, because it makes not the whole essence to which we give the name man. § 22. OUR ABSTRACT IDEAS ARE TO US THE MEASURES (ft SPECIES j INSTANCE IN THAT OF MAN. # There are creatures in the world that have shapes like ours, but are hairy, and want language and reason. There are natu- rals among us that have perfectly our shape, but want reason, and some of them language too. There are creatures, it is said ("sit fides penes auctorem," but there appears no contradiction that there should be such) that, with language and reason, and a shape in other things agreeing with ours, have hairy tails ; others where the males have no beards, and others where the females have. If it be asked, whether these be all men or no, all of human species ? it is plain, the question refers only to the nomi- nal essence : for those of them to whom the definition of the word man, or the complex idea signified by that name, agrees, are men, and the other not. But if the inquiry be made con- cerning the supposed real essence, and whether the internal con- stitution and frame of these several creatures be specifically dif- ferent, it is wholly impossible for us to answer, no part of that going into our specific idea ; only we have reason to think, that where the faculties or outward frame so much differs, the inter- nal constitution is not exactly the same. But what difference in the internal real constitution makes a specific difference, it is in vain to inquire ; whilst our measures of species be, as they are, only our abstract ideas, which we know ; and not that internal constitution, which makes no part of them. Shall the difference of hair only on the skin, be a mark of a different internal specific constitution between a changeling and a drill, when they agree in shape, and want of reason and speech ? And shall not the want of reason and speech be a sign to us of dif- ferent real constitutions and species between a changeling and a reasonable man ? And so of the rest, if we pretend that the dis- tinction of species or sorts is fixedly established by the real frame and secret constitutions of things. § 23. SPECIES NOT DISTINGUISHED BY GENERATION. Nor let any one say, that the power of propagation in animals by the mixture of male and female, and in plants by seeds, keeps CH. VI. j NAMES OF SUBSTANCE-. 421 the supposed real species distinct and pntirc. For granting this • to be true, it would help us in the distinction of the species of things no farther than (he tribes of animals and vegetable.-. What must we do for the rest 1 But in those too it is not suffi- cient: for if history lie not, women have conceived by drills •, and what real species, by that measure, such a production will be in nature, will be a new question : and we have reason to think this is not impossible, since mules and jumarts, the one from the mixture of an ass and a mare, and the other from the mix- ture of a bull and a mare, are so frequent in the world. I once saw a creature that was the issue of a cat and a rat, and had the plain marks of both about it ; wherein nature appeared to have followed the pattern of neither sort alone, but to have jumbled them both together. To which, he that shall add the monstrous productions that are so frequently to be met with in nature, will find it hard even in the race of animals, to determine by the pedigree of what species every animal's issue is : and be at a loss about the real essence, which he thinks certainly conveyed by generation, and has alone a right to the specific name. But far- ther, if the species of animals and plants are to be distinguished only by propagation, must I go to the Indies to see the sire and dam of the one, and the plant from which the seed was gathered that produced the other, to know whether this be a tiger or that tea ? § 24. NOT BY SUBSTANTIAL FORMS. Upon the whole matter, it is evident, that it is their own col- lections of sensible qualities, that men make the essences of their several sorts of substances ; and that their real internal structures are not considered by the greatest part of men, in the sorting of them. Much less were any substantial forms ever thought on by any, but those who have in this one part of the world learned the language of the schools : and yet those ignorant men, who pretend not any insight into the real essences, nor trouble them- selves about substantial forms, but are content with knowing things one from another by their sensible qualities, are often better acquainted with their differences, can more nicely distin- guish them from their uses, and better know what they may expect irom each, than those learned quick-sighted men, who look so deep into them, and talk so confidently of something more hidden and essential. § 25. THE SFECIFIC ESSENCES AUK MATH". BY THE MIND. But supposing that the real essences of substances were disco- verable by those that would severely apply themselves to thai inquiry, yet we could not reasonably think, that the ranking of things under general names was regulated by those internal real constitutions, or any thing else but their obvious appearances : since languages, in a!) countries, have been established long before 422 NAMES OF SUBSTAPfCES. TbOOK III. sciences. So that they have not been philosophers, or logicians, or such who have troubled themselves about forms and essences, that have made the general names that are in use among the several nations of men : but those more or less comprehensive terms have for the most part, in all languages, received their birth and signification from ignorant and illiterate people, who sorted and denominated things by those sensible qualities they found in them ; thereby to signify them, when absent, to others, whether they had an occasion to mention a sort or a particular thing. § 26. THEREFORE VERY VARIOUS AND UNCERTAIN. Since then it is evident, that we sort and name substances by their nominal, and not by their real essences ; the next thing to be considered is, how and by whom these essences come to be made. As to the latter, it is evident they are made by the mind, and not by nature : for were they nature's workmanship, they could not be so various and different in several men, a s expe- rience tells us they are. For if we will examine it, we shall not find the nominal essence of any one species of substances in all men the same : no, not of that, which of all others we are the most intimately acquainted with. It could not possibly be, that the abstract idea to which the name man is given, should be dif- ferent in several men, if it were of nature's making ; and that to one it should be " animal rationale," and to another " animal implume bipes latis unguibus." He that annexes the name man to a complex idea made up of sense and spontaneous motion, joined to a body of such a shape, has thereby one essence of the species man, and he that, upon further examination, adds ration- ality, has another essence of the species he calls man : by which means the same individual will be a true man to the one, which is not so to the other. I think, there is scarce any one will allow this upright figure, so well known, to be the essential difference of the species man ; and yet how far men determine of the sorts of animals rather by their shape than descent, is very visible : since it has been more than once debated, whether several human foetuses should be preserved or received to baptism or no, only because of the difference of their outward configuration from the ordinary make of children, without knowing whether they were not as capable of reason as infants cast in another mould : some whereof, though of an approved shape, are never capable of as much appearance of reason all their lives as is to be found in an ape or an elephant, and never give any signs of being acted by a rational soul. Whereby it is evident, that the outward figure, which only was found wanting, and not the faculty of reason, which nobody could know would be wanting in its due season, was made essential to the human species. The learned divine or lawyer must, on such occasions, renounce his sacred defini- tion of " animal rationale," and substitute some other essence of CH. V!.j NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. 433 the human species. Monsieur Menage furnishes us with au example worth the taking notice of on this occasion : " When the abbot of St. Martin (says he) was born, he had so little of the figure of a man, that it bespake him rather a monster. It wa-; for some time under deliberation, whether he should be baptized or no. However, he was baptized and declared a man provision- ally [till time should show what he would prove.] Nature had moulded him so untowardly, that he was called all his life the Abbot Malotru, z. e. ill-shaped. He was of Caen." Mcnagiana. ||f. This child, we see, was very near being excluded out of the species of man, barely by his shape. He escaped very nar- rowly as he was, and it is certain a figure a little more oddlv turned had cast him, and he had been executed as a thing not to be allowed to pass for a man. And yet there can be no reason given, why if the lineaments of his face had been a little altered^ a rational soul could not have been lodged in him ; why a visage somewhat longer, or a nose flatter, or a wider mouth, could not have consisted, as well as the rest of his ill figure, with such a soul, such parts, as made him, disfigured as he was, capable to be a dignitary in the church. §27. • Wherein, then, would I gladly know, consist the precise and immoveable boundaries of that species ? It is plain, if we examine, there is no such thing made by nature, and established by her among men. The real essence of that, or any other sort of sub- stances, it is evident we know not ; and therefore are so unde- termined in our nominal essences, which we make ourselves, that if several men were to be asked concerning some oddly-shaped fostus, as soon as born, whether it were a man or no, it is past doubt, one should meet with different answers : which could noi happen, if the nominal essences, whereby we limit and distinguish the species of substances, were not made by man with some liberty, but were exactly copied from precise boundaries set by nature, whereby it distinguished all substances into certain spe- cies. Who would undertake to resolve what species that monster was of, which is mentioned by Licetus, lib. i. c. 3. with a man's head and hog's body ? or those other, which to the bodies of men had the heads of beasts, as dogs, horses, &c.? If any of these •'features had lived, and could have spoke, it would have increased the difficulty. Had the upper part to the middle been of human shape, and all below swine ; had it been murder to destroy it ' Or must the bishop have been consulted, whether it were man enough to be admitted to the font or no ? as, I have been told, it happened in France some years since, in somewhat a like case. So uncertain are the boundaries of species of animals to us, who Lave no other measures than the complex ideas of our own col- lecting : and so far are we from certainly knowing what a man is ; thi haps, ;' will : to make 4:24 NAiffiS OF SUBbTAiVGES. [BOOK III. any doubt about it. And yet, I think, I may say, that the certain boundaries of that species are so far from being determined, and the precise number of simple ideas, which make the nominal essence, so far from being settled and perfectly known, that very material doubts may still arise about it. And I imagine, none of the definitions of the word man, which we yet have, nor descrip- tions of that sort of animal, are so perfect and exact, as to satisfy a considerate inquisitive person; much less to obtain a general consent, and to be that which men would every where stick by, in the decision of cases, and determining of life and death, baptism or no baptism, in productions that might happen. § 28 BUT NOT SO ARBITRARY AS MIXED JIODES. But though these nominal essences of substances are made by the mind, they are not yet made so arbitrarily as those of mixed modes. To the making of any nominal essence, it is necessary* Firs*,, that the ideas whereof it consists have such a union as to make but one idea, how compounded soever ; secondly, that the particular idea so united be exactly the same, neither more nor less. For if two abstract complex ideas differ either in number or sorts of their component parts, they make two different, and not one and the same essence. In the first of these, the mind, in making its complex ideas of substances, only follows nature, and puts none together which are not supposed to have a union in nature. Nobody joins the voice of a sheep with the shape of a horse, nor the colour of lead with the weight and fixedness of gold, to be the complex ideas of any real substances ; unless he has a mind to fill his head with chimeras, and his discourse with unintelligible words. Men observing certain qualities always joined and existing together, therein copied nature ; and of ideas so united, made their complex ones of substances. For though men may make what complex ideas they please, and give what names to them they will ; yet if they will be understood, when they speak of things really existing, they must in some degree conform their ideas to the things they would speak of; or else men's language will be like that of Babel ; and every man's words being intelligible only to himself, would no longer serve to conversation, and the ordinary affairs of life, if the ideas they stand for be not some way answering the common appearances and agreement of substances, as they really exist. § 29. THOUGH VERY IMPERFECT. Secondly, though the mind of man, in making its complex ideas of substances, never puts any together that do not really or are not supposed to coexist ; and so it truly borrows that union from nature — yet the number it combines depends upon the va- rious care, industry, or fancy of him that makes it. Men gene- rally content themselves with some few sensible obvious quali- ties : and often, if not always, leave out others as material, and CH. VI. J YA.UEs OF SUBSTANCES. as firmly united, as those that they take. Of sensible -substances there are two sorts ; one of organized bodies, which are propa- gated by seed ; and in these, the shape is that which to us is the leading quality and most characteristical part that determines the species : and therefore in vegetables and animals, an extended solid substance of such a certain figure usually iserves the turn. For however some men seem to prize their definition of " animal rationale," yet should there a creatine be found, that had lan- guage and reason, but partook not of the usual shape of a man, I believe it would hardly pass for a man, how much soever it were u animal rationale." And if Balaam's ass had, all his life, dis- coursed as rationally as he did once with his master, I doubt yet whether any one would have thought him worthy the name man. or allowed him to be of the same species with himself. As in vegetables and animals, it is the shape, so in most other bodies. not propagated by seed, it is the colour we must fix on, and are most led by. Thus where we find the colour of gold, we are apt to imagine all the other qualities, comprehended in our com- plex idea, to be there also : and we commonly take these two obvious qualities, viz. shape and colour, for so presumptive ideas of several species, that in a good picture we readily say this is a lion, and that a rose ; this is a gold, and that a silver goblet, only by the different figures and colours represented to the eye by the pencil. § 30. WHICH YET SERVE FOR COMMON" CONVERSE. But though this serves well enough for gross and confused con- ceptions, and inaccurate ways of talking and thinking; yet men are far enough from having agreed on the precise number of simple ideas, or qualities, belonging to any sort of things, signified by its name. Nor is it a wonder, since it requires much time, pains, and skill, strict inquiry, and long examination, to find out what and how many those simple ideas are, which are constantly and inseparably united in nature, and are always to be found together in the same subject. Most men, wanting either time, inclination, or industry enough for this, even to some tole- rable degree, content themselves with some few obvious and • mtward appearances of things, thereby readily to distinguish and sort them for the common affairs of life ; and so, without farther examination, give them names, or take up the names already in use : which, though in common conversation they pass well enough for the signs of some few obvious qualities coexist- ing, are yet far enough from comprehending, in a settled sig- nification, a precise number of simple ideas ; much less all those which are united in nature. He that shall consider, after so much stir about genus and species, and such a deal of talkof specific dif- ferences, how few words we have yet settled definitions of, may with reason imagine that those forms, which there hath been so much noise made about, are only chimeras, which give us ncf Vol. I. 42G NAJIES OF SUBSTANCES. [BOOK III. light into the specific natures of things. And he that shall consider how far the names of substances are from having significations, wherein all who use them do agree, will have reason to con- clude, that though the nominal essences of substances are all supposed to be copied from nature, yet they are all, or most of thern, very imperfect ; since the composition of those complex ideas are, in several men, very different ; and therefore that these boundaries of species are as men, and not as nature makes them, if at least there are in nature any such prefixed bounds. It is true that many particular substances are so made by nature, that they have agreement and likeness one with another, and so afford a foundation of being ranked into sorts. But the sorting of things by us, or the making of determinate species, being in order to naming and comprehending them under general terms ; I cannot see how it can be properly said, that nature sets the boundaries of the species of things : or if it be so, our bounda- ries of species are not exactly conformable to those in nature. For we having need of general names for present use, stay not for a perfect discovery of all those qualities which would best show us their most material differences and agreements ; but we ourselves divide them, by certain obvious appearances, into species, that we may the easier under general names communi- cate our thoughts about them. For having no other knowledge of any substance, but of the simple ideas that are united in it ; and observing several particular things to agree with others in several of those simple ideas ; we make that collection our spe- cific idea, and give it a general name ; that in recording our own thoughts, and in our discourse with others, we may in one short word design ail the individuals that agree in that complex idea, without enumerating the simple ideas that make it up ; and so not waste our time and breath in tedious descriptions ; which we see they are fain to do, who would discourse of any new sort of things they have not yet a name. § 31. ESSENCES OF STECIES UNDER THE SAME NAME VERY DIFFERENT. But however these species of substances pass well enough in ordinary conversation, it is plain that this complex idea, wherein they observe several individuals to agree, is by different men made very differently; by some more, and others less accurately, la some, this complex idea contains a greater, and in others a smaller number of qualities ; and so is apparently such as the mind makes it. The yellow shining colour makes gold to chil- dren ; others add weight, malleableness, and fusibility ; and others vet other qualities, which they find joined with that yellow colour, as constantly as its weight and fusibility ; for in all these and the like qualities, one has as good a right to be put into the complex idea of that substance wherein they are all joined, as another* And therefore different men leaving out or putting in several simple ideas>which others do not. accordingto their various en. vi.] va«] , : ; examination, skill, or observation of that subject, have different essences of gold ; which must therefore he of their own, and not of nature's making. ' 32. THE MORE GENERAL OUR IDEAS AUK. THE MORE INCOMPLETE AND PARTIAL TJ1K.Y ARE. If the number of simple ideas, that made the nominal essence of the lowest species, or first sorting of individuals, depends on the mind of man variously collecting them, it is much more evi- dent that they do so in the more comprehensive classes, which by the masters of logic are called genera. These are complex ideas designedly imperfect : and it is visible at first sight, that several of those qualities that are to be found in the things them- selves arc purposely left out ofgenerical ideas. For as the mind, lo make general ideas comprehending several particulars, leaves out those of time, and place, and such other, that make them incommunicable to more than one individual; so to make other yet more general ideas, that may comprehend different sorts, it leaves out those qualities that distinguish them, and puts into its new collection only such ideas as are common to several sorts. The same convenience that made men express several parcels of yellow matter coming from Guinea and Peru under one name, sets them also upon making of one name that may comprehend both gold and silver, and some other bodies of dif- ferent sorts. This is done by leaving out those qualities which are peculiar to each sort, and retaining a complex idea made up of those that arc common to them all ; to which the name metal being annexed, there is a genus constituted ; the essence whereof, being that abstract idea containing only malleableness and fusi- bility, with certain degrees of weight and fixedness, wherein some bodies of several kinds agree, leaves out the colour, and other qualities peculiar to gold and silver, and the other sorts compre- hended under the name metal. Whereby it is plain, that men follow not exactly the patterns set them by nature, when they make their general ideas of substances ; since there is no body to be found, which has barely malleableness and fusibility in it, without other qualities as inseparable as those. But men in making their general ideas, seeing more the convenience of lan- guage and quick despatch, by short and comprehensive signs, than the true and precise nature of things as they exist, have, in the framing their abstract ideas, chiefly pursued that end which was to be furnished with store of general and variously compre- hensive names. So that in this whole business of genera and species, the genus, or more comprehensive, is but a partial con- ception of what is in the species, and the species but a partial idea of what is to be found in each individual. If therefore any one will think that a man, and a horse, and an animal, and a plant. &c. are distinguished by real essences made by nature, he must think nature to be very liberal of these real essences, 428 NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. [BOOK III. making one for body, another for an animal, and another for a horse ; and all these essences liberally bestowed upon Buce- phalus. But if we would rightly consider what is done, in all these genera and species, or sorts, we should find that there is no new thing made, but only more or less comprehensive signs, whereby we may be enabled to express, in a few syllables, great numbers of particular things, as they agree in more or less general conceptions, which we have framed to that purpose. In all which we may observe, that the more general term is always the name of a less complex idea ; and that each genus is but a partial conception of the species comprehended under it. So that if these abstract general ideas be thought to be complete, it ran only be in respect of a certain established relation between them and certain names, which are made use of to signify them : and not in respect of any thing existing, as made by nature. § 33. THIS ALL ACCOMMODATED TO THE END OF SPEECH. This is adjusted to the true end of speech, which is to be the easiest and shortest way of communicating our notions. For thus he, that would discourse of things as they agreed in the complex idea of extension and solidity, needed but use the word body to denote all such. He that to these would join others, signified by the words life, sense, and spontaneous motion, needed but use the word animal, to signify air which partook of those ideas : and he that had made a complex idea of a body, with life, sense, and motion, with the faculty of reasoning, and a certain shape joined to it, needed but use the short monosyllable man to express all particulars that correspond to that complex idea. This is the proper business of genus and species ; and this men do, without any consideration of real essences, or substantial forms, which come not within the reach of our knowledge, when we think of those things ; nor within the signification of our words, when we discourse with others. § 34. INSTANCE IN CONTRARIES. Were I to talk with any one of a sort of birds I lately saw in St. James's Park, about three or four feet high,with a covering of something between feathers and hair, of a dark brown colour, without wings, but in the place thereof two or three little branches coming down like sprigs of Spanish broom, long great legs, with feet only of three claws, and without a tail ; 1 must make this description of it, and so may make others understand me : but when I am told that the name of it is cassiowary, I may then use that word to stand in discourse for all my complex idea men- tioned in that description ; though by that word, which is now become a specific name, I know no more of the real essence or constitution of that sort of animals than I did beforehand knew probably as much of the nature of that species of birds, before 1 learned the name, as many Englishmen do of swans, or ' H. VI.] NAMES OF SUBSTANCE:-. 429 herons, which are specific names, very well known, of sorts of birds common in England. § 35. MEN DETERMIIVE THE SORTS. From what has been said, it is evident that men make sorts oi things. For it being different essences alone that make different species, it is plain that they who make those abstract ideas, which are the nominal essences, do thereby m;ike the species, or sort. Should there be a body found, having all the other qualities of goid, except malleablcness, it would no doubt be made a question whether it were gold or no, i. c. whether it were of that species. This could be determined only by that abstract idea to which every one annexed the name gold ; so that it would be true gold to him. and belong to that species, who included not malleablc- ness in his nominal essence, signified by the sound gold ; and on the other side it would not be true gold, or of that species, to him who included malleablcness in his specific idea. And who, I pray, is it that makes these diverse species even under one and ihe same name, but men that make two different abstract ideas, • onsisting not exactly of the same collection of qualities ? Nov is it a mere supposition to imagine that a body may exist, wherein the other obvious qualities of gold may be without malleableness: since it is certain, that gold itself will be sometimes so eager (a? artists call it) that it will as little endure the hammer as glass itself. What we have said of the putting in or leaving malleable- ness out of the complex idea the name gold is by any one annexed to, may be said of its peculiar weight, fixedness, and several other the like qualities : for whatsoever is left out, or put in, it is still the complex idea, to which that name is annexed, that makes the species; and as any particular parcel of matter answers that idea, so the name of the sort belongs truly to it ; and it is of that spe- cies. And thus any thing is true gold, perfect metal. All which determination of the species, it is plain, depends on the under- standing of man, making this or that complex idea. § 3G. NATURE MAKES THE SIMILITUDE. This then, in short, is the case : nature makes many particular things which do agree one with another, in many sensible quali- ties, and probably too in their internal frame and constitution : but it is not this real essence that distinguishes them into species : it is men, who, taking occasion from the qualities they find united in them, and wherein they observe often several individuals to agree, range them into sorts, in order to their naming, for the convenience of comprehensive signs ; under which individuals, according to tlveir conformity to this or that abstract idea, come to be ranked as under ensigns ; so that this is of the blue, that the red regiment ; this a man, that a drill : and in this, I think. i onsista the whole business of genus and species. I.1. N'AMES OP SUBSTANCES. [BOOK III. § 37. I do not deny but nature, in the constant production of parti- cular beings, makes them not always new and various, but very much alike and of kin one to another : but I think it nevertheless true, that the boundaries of the species, whereby men sort them, arc made by men ; since the essences of the species, distinguished by different names, are, as has been proved, of man's making, and seldom adequate to the internal nature of the things they are taken from. So that we may truly say, such a manner of sorting of things is the workmanship of men. § 38. EACH ABSTRACT IDEA IS AN ESSENCE. One thing I doubt not but will seem very strange in this doctrine; which is, that from what has been said it will follow, that each abstract idea, with a name to it makes a distinct species. But who can help it, if truth will have it so 1 For so it must remain till somebody can show- us the species of things, limited and distinguished by something else, and let us see, that general terms signify not our abstract ideas, but something different from them. I would fain know why a shock and a hound are not as distinct species as a spaniel and an elephant. We have no other idea of the different essence of an elephant and a spaniel, than we have of the different essence a shock and a hound ; all the essential difference, whereby we know and distinguish them one from another, consisting only in the different collection of simple ideas, to which we have given those different names. § 39. GENERA AND SPECIES ARE IN ORDER TO NAMING. How much the making of species and genera is in order to general names, and how much general names are necessary, if not to the being, yet at least to the completing of a species, and making it pass for such, will appear, besides what has been said above concerning ice and water, is a very familiar example. A silent and a striking watch are but one species to those who have but one name for them : but he that has the name watch for one, and clock for the other, and distinct complex ideas to which those names belong, to him they are different species. It will be said, perhaps, that the inward contrivance and constitution is different between these two, which the watchmaker has a clear idea of. And yet it is plain, they are but one species to him, when he has but one name for them. For what is sufficient in the inward contrivance to make a new species ? There are some watches that are made with four wheels, others with five : is this a specific difference to the workman ? Some have strings and physic?, and others none; some have the balance loose, and others regulated by a spiral spring, and others by hog's bristles : are any or all of these enough to make a specific difference to the work- man, that knows each of these, and several other different contri- vances, in the internal constitutions of watches ? It is cer- tain each of these hath a real difference from therest: but I H. VI. j .NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. 4 o I whether it be an essential; a specific difference or no, relates onlv to the complex idea to which the name watch is given : as long as they all agree in the idea which that name stands for, and that name does not as a generical name comprehend different species iinder it, they are not essentially nor specifically different. But if any one will make minuter divisions from differences that he knows in the internal frame of watches, and to such precise com- plex ideas, give names that shall prevail ; they will then be new species to them, who have those ideas with names to them ; and can, by those differences, distinguish watches into these several sorts, and then tuatch will be a generical name. But yet thev would be no distinct species to men ignorant of clock-work and the inward contrivances of watches, who had no other idea but the outward shape and bulk, with the marking of the hours by the hand. For to them all those other names would be but synonymous terms for the same idea, and signify no more, nor no other thing but a watch. Just thus, I think, it is in natural things. Nobody will doubt that the wheels or springs (if 1 may so say) within, arc different in a rational man and a changeling, no more than that there is a difference in the frame between a drill and a changeling. But whether one or both these differences be essen- tial or specifical, is only to be known to us, by their agreement or disagreement with the complex idea that the name man stands for: for by that alone can it be determined, whether one, or both, or neither of those be a man or no. § 40. SPECIHS OF ARTIFICIAL THINGS LESS CONFUSED THAN' NATURAL From what has been before said, we may see the reason win- in the species of artificial things, there is generally less confusion and uncertainty, than in natural. Because an artificial thinn being a production of man, which the artificer designed, and Therefore well knows, the idea of, the name of it is supposed to ?tand for no other idea, nor to import any other essence than what is certainly to be known, and easy enough to be appre- hended. For the idea or essence of the several sorts of artificial things, consisting, for the most part, in nothing but the determi- nate figure of sensible parts ; and sometimes motion depending thereon, which the artificer fashions in matter, such as he finds for his turn ; it is not beyond the reach of our faculties to attain a certain idea thereof, and to settle the signification of the names, whereby the species of artificial things are distinguished with less doubt, obscurity, and equivocation, than we can in things natural, whose differences and operations depend upon contrivances beyond the reach of our discoveries. ! U. ARTIFICIAL THINGS OF DISTINC1 1 rpust be excused here if 1 think artificial things arc - species, as well as natural : since I find they areas plainly and orderly ranked into sorts, by different absti is, with general iJ2 NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. [HOOK ill. names annexed to them, as distinct one from another as those of natural substances. For why should we not think a watch and pistol, as distinct species one from another, as a horse and a dog, they being expressed in our minds by distinct ideas, and to others by distinct appellations ? § 42. SUBSTANCES ALONE HAVE PROPER NAMES. This is farther to be observed concerning substances, that they alone of all our several sorts of ideas have particular or proper names, whereby the only particular thing is signified. Because in simple ideas, modes, and relations, it seldom happens that men have occasion to mention often this or that particular when it is absent. Besides, the greatest part of mixed modes, being actions which perish in their birth, are not capable of a lasting duration as substances, which are the actors : and wherein the simple ideas that make up the complex ideas designed by the name, have a lasting union. § 43. DIFFICULTY TO TREAT OF WORDS. I must beg pardon of my reader, for having dwelt so long upon this subject, and perhaps with some obscurity. But I desire it may be considered how difficult it is to lead another by words into the thoughts of things stripped of those specific differences we give them : which things, if I name not, I say nothing ; and if I do name them, I thereby rank them into some sort or other, and suggest to the mind the usual abstract idea of that species, and so cross my purpose. For to talk of a man, and to lay by, at the same time, the ordinary signification of the name man, which is our complex idea usually annexed to it ; and bid the reader con- sider man as he is in himself, and as he is really distinguished from others in his internal constitution, or real essence, that is, by something he knows not what, looks like trifling : and yet thus one must do who would speak of the supposed real essences and species of things, as thought to be made by nature, if it be but only to make it understood, that there is no such thing signi- fied by the general names, which substances are called by, but because it is difficult by known familiar names to do this, give me leave to endeavour by an example, to make the different consideration the mind has of specific names and ideas a little more clear ; and to show how the complex ideas of modes are referred sometimes to archetypes in the minds of other intelligent beings ; or, which is the same, to the signification annexed by others to their received names ; and sometimes to no archetypes at all. Give me leave also to show how the mind always refers its ideas of substances, either to the substances themselves, or to the signification of their names as to the archetypes ; and also to make plain the nature of species, or sorting of things, as appre- hended, and made use of by us ; and of the essences belonging to those species, which is perhaps of more moment, to dis- H. XI.] [JAMES OF SUBSTANCES, 4.;.} cover the extent and certainty of our knowledge than we at tirsi imagine. § 44. INSTANCE OF MIXED MODES IN KINNEAH AND NIOUPH. Let us suppose Adam in the state of a grown man, with a good understanding, but in a strange country, with all things new and unknown about him ; and no other faculties, to attain the know- ledge of them, but what one of this age has now. He observes Lamech more melancholy than usual, and imagines it to be from a suspicion he has of his wife Adah (whom he most ardently loved) that she had too much kindness for another man. Adam discourses these his thoughts to Eve, and desires her to take care that Adah commit not folly : and in these discourses with Eve he makes use of these two new words, Kinneah and Niouph. in time Adam's mistake appears, for he finds Lamech's trouble proceeded from having killed a man : but yet the two names, Kinneah and Niouph ; the one standing for suspicion, in a hus- band, of his wife's disloyalty to him, and the other for the act of committing disloyalty, lost not their distinct significations. !t is plain then that here were two distinct complex ideas of mixed modes with names to them, two distinct species of action essentially differ- ent ; 1 ask wherein consisted the essences of these two distinct spe- cies of action ? And it is plain it consisted in a precise combination of simple ideas, different in one froVn the other. I ask, whether the complex idea in Adam's mind, which he called Kinneah, were ade- quate or no? Audit is plain it was,forit being a combination of sim- ple ideas, which he, without any regard to any archetype, without respect to any thing as a pattern, voluntarily put together, abstract- ed, and gave the name Kinneah to, to express in short to others, by that one sound, all the simple ideas contained and united in that complex one ; it must necessarily follow, that it was an ade- quate idea. His own choice having made that combination, it had all in it he intended it should, and so could not be perfect, could not but be adequate, it being referred to no other arche- type, which it was supposed to represent. § 45. These words, Kinneah and Niouph, by degrees grew into com- mon use ; and then the case was somewhat altered. Adam's children had the same faculties, and thereby the same power that he had to make what complex ideas of mixed modes they pleased in their own minds ; to abstract them, and make what sounds they pleased the signs of them : but the use of names being to make our ideas within us known to others, that cannot be done, but when the same sign stands for the same idea in two who would communicate their thoughts, and discourse together. Those therefore of Adam's children, that found these two words, Kinneah and Niouph, in familiar use, could not take them for insignificant sounds : but must needs conclude, thev «tood for Vol. 1. 434 NAMES OF SUBSTANCES. [jJOOK III. something, for certain ideas, abstract ideas, they being general names, which abstract ideas were the essences of the species distinguished by those names. If, therefore, they would use these words, as names of species already established and agreed on, they were obliged to conform the ideas, in their minds sig- nified by these names, to the ideas that they stood for in other men's minds, as to their patterns and archetypes ; and then indeed their ideas of these complex modes were liable to be inadequate, as being very apt (especially those that consisted of combinations of many simple ideas) not to be exactly conformable to the ideas in other men's minds, using the same names ; though for this there be usually a remedy at hand, which is to ask the meaning of any word we understand not, of him that uses it : it being as impossible to know certainly what the words jealousy and adultery (which I think answer roup and ppto) stand for in another man's mind, with whom I would discourse about them ; as it was impossible, in the beginning of language, to know what Kinneah and Niouph stood for in another man's mind, without explication, they being voluntary signs in every one. § 46 INSTANCES OF SUBSTANCES IN ZAHAB. Let us now also consider, after the same manner, the names of substances in their first application. One of Adam's children, roving in the mountains, lights on a glittering substance which pleases his eye ; home he carries it to Adam, who, upon conside- ration of it, finds it to be hard, to have a bright yellow colour, and an exceeding great weight. These, perhaps, at first, are all the qualities he takes notice of in it : and abstracting this com- plex idea, consisting of a substance having that peculiar bright yellowness, and a weight very great in proportion to its bulk, he gives it the name Zahab, to denote and mark all substances that have these sensible qualities in them. It is evident now that, in this case, Adam acts quite differently from what he did before in forming those ideas of mixed modes, to which he gave the names Kinneah and Niouph. For there he puts ideas together, only by his own imagination, not taken from the existence of any thing : and to them he gave names to denominate all things that should happen to agree to those his abstract ideas, without considering whether any such thing did exist or no : the standard there was of his own making. But in the forming his idea of this new substance, he takes the quite contrary course ; here he has a standard made by nature ; and therefore being to represent that to himself, by the idea he has of it, even when it is absent, he puts in no simple idea into his complex one, but what he has the perception of from the thing itself. He takes care that his idea be conformable to this archetype, and intends the name should stand for an idea so conformable. t. II, VI. J ST AMES 01 SUBSTANCES. 135 §47. This piece of matter, thus denominated Zahab, by Adam, being quite different from any he had seen before, nobody, I think will deny to be a distinct species, and to have its peculiar essence ; and'that the name Zahab is the mark of the species, and a name be- longing to all things partaking in that essence. But here it is plain, the essence, Adam made the name Zahab stand for, was nothing but a body hard, shining, yellow, and very heavy. But the inquisitive mind of man, not content with the knowledge of these, as I may say superficial qualities, puts Adam on farther examination of this matter. He therefore knocks and beats it with flints, to see what was discoverable in the inside : he finds it yield to blows, but not easily separate into pieces : he finds it will bend without breaking. Is not now ductility to be added to his former idea, and made part of the essence of the species that name Zahab stands for ? Far- ther trials discover fusibility and fixedness. Are not they also, by the same reason that any of the others were, to be put into the complex idea signified by the name Zahab ? If not, wl at reason will there be shown more for the one than the other ? If these must, then all the other properties, which any farther trials shall discover in- this matter, ought by the same reason to make a part of the ingredients of the complex idea, which the name Zahab stands for, and so be the essence of the species marked i.y that name. Which properties, beeause they are endless, it is plain, that the idea made after this fashion by this archetype, will be always inadequate. § 48. THEIR IUEAS 1MFERKEIT, ANJI TUKKKl'OKli VARIOUS. But this is not all, it would also follow, that the names of sub- stances would not only have (as in truth they have) but would also be supposed to have different significations, as used by dif- ferent men, which would very much cumber the use of language. For if every distinct quality, that were discovered in any matter by any one, were supposed to make a necessary part of the complex idea, signified by the common name given it, it must follow, that men must suppose the same word to signify different things in dif- ferent men ; since they cannot doubt but different men may have discovered several qualities in substances of the same denomina- tion, which others know nothing of. § 40. THEREFORE TO FIX THEIR SPECIES, A REAL ESSENCE IS SUPPOSED. To avoid this, therefore, they have supposed a real essence belonging to every species, from which these properties all flow, and would have their name of the species stand for that. But they not having any idea of that real essense in substances, and their words signifying nothing but the ideas the) ha\ e, that which is done by this attempt, is only to put the name or sound in the place and stead of the thing having that real essence, without knowing what the real essence is ; and this is that which men do. 436 3AMES OF SUBSTANCES. [BOOK III. Avhen they speak of species of things, as supposing them made by nature, and distinguished by real essences. § 50. WHICH SUPPOSITION IS OF NO USE. For let us consider, when we affirm, that all gold is fixed, either it means that fixedness is a part of the definition, part of the nominal essence the word gold stands for ; and so this affirma- tion, all gold is fixed, contains nothing but the signification of the term gold. Or else it means, that fixedness not being a part of the definition of the word gold, is a property of that substance itself; in which case, it is plain, that the word gold stands in the place of a substance, having the real essence of a species of things made by nature. In which way of substitution it has so confused and uncertain a signification, that though this proposi- tion, gold is fixed, be in that sense an affirmation of something real, yet it is a truth will always fail us in its particular applica- tion, and so is of no real use nor certainty. For let it be ever so true, that all gold, t. e. all that has the real essence of gold, is fixed, what serves this for, whilst we know not, in this sense, what is or is not gold ? for if we know not the real essence of gold, it is impossible we should know what parcel of matter has that essence, and so whether it be true gold or no. § 51. CONCLUSION. To conclude : what liberty Adam had at first to make any complex ideas of mixed modes, by no other patterns but by his own thoughts, the same have all men ever since had. And the same, necessity n{ conforming his ideas of substances to things without him, as to archetypes made by nature, that Adam was under, if he would not wilfully impose upon himself ; the same are all men ever since under too. The same liberty also that Adam had of affixing any new name to any idea, the same has any one still (especially the beginners of languages, if we can imagine any such) but only with this difference, that in places where men in society have already established a language among them, the signification of words are very warily and sparingly to be altered : because men being furnished already with names for their ideas, and common use having appropriated known names to certain ideas, an affected misapplication of them cannot but be very ridiculous. He that hath new notions will, perhaps, venture sometimes on the coining new terms to express them : but men think it a boldness, and it is uncertain whether common use will ever make them pass for current. But in communication with others, it is necessary, that we conform the ideas we make the vulgar words of any language stand for, to their known proper significations (which I have explained at large already) or else to make known^that new signification we apply them to. v\f) ov thf. np.^T vor.r\H-. IS ESSAY CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. AVRITTEN BY JOHN LOCKE, GENT TO WHICH ARK ADDED, I. AS ANALYSIS OF MR. LOCKE'S DOCTRINE OF IDEAS, ON A LARGE SHEET. II. A DEFENCE OF MR. LOCKE'S OPINION CONCERNING PERSONAL IDENTITY, WITH AN APPENDIX. III. A TREATISE ON THE CONDUCT OF THE UNDERSTANDING. IV. SOME THOUGHTS CONCERNING READING AND STUDY FOR A GENTLEMAN. V. ELEMFNTS OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. Vl. A NEW METHOD OF A COMMON-PLACE BOOK. EXTRACTED FROM THE AUTHOR'S WORKS A NEW EDITION. IN TWO VOLUMES VOL. II. jtfeto=¥oi*K : PUBLISHED BY VALENTINE SEAMAN J. it J. Harper, Printer";, 1824 CONTEiVTS OF VOLUME II, ESSAY ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDING, continue*. BOOK III. CHAP. VII. Of par tides. Sect. 1. Particles connect parts, or whole sentences together. 2. In them consists the art of well speaking. 3. 4. They show what relation the mind gives to its own thoughts. 5. Instance in but. 6. This matter but lightly touched here . CHAP. VIII. Of abstract and concrete terms. Sect. 1. Abstract terms not predicable one of another, and why. 2. They show the difference of our ideas. CHAP. IX. Of the imperfection of words. Sect. 1. Words are used for recording and communicating our thoughts. 2. Any words will serve for recording. 3. Communication by words, civil or philosophical. 4. The imperfection of words, is the doubtfulness of their signification. 5. Causes of their imperfection. 6. The names of mixed modes doubt- ful : first, because the ideas they stand for are so complex. 7. Secondly, because they have no standards. 8. Propriety not a sufficient remedy. 9. The way of learning these names contributes also to their doubtful- ness. 10. Hence unavoidable obscurity in an- cient authors. 11. Names of substances of doubtful signification. 12. Names of substances referred. — First, to real essences that cannot be known. 13, 14. Secondly, to coexisting quali- ties, which are known but imper- fectly. 15. With this imperfection they may serve for civil, but not well for phi- losophical use. 16. Instance — Liquor of nerves. 17. Instance — Gold. 18. The names of simple ideas the least doubtful. 19. And next to them simple modes. ■ '). The most doubtful, are the name; of very compounded mixed modes and substances. 21. Why this imperfe ction charged upon words. 22, 23. This should teach us moderation in imposing our own sense of old authors. CHAP. X. Of the abuse of words. Sect. 1. Abuse of words. 2, 3. First, words without any, or with- out clear ideas. 4. Occasioned by learning names before the ideas they belong to. 5. Secondly, Unsteady application of them. 6. Thirdly, Affected obscurity by wroljg application. 7. Logic and dispute have much contri- buted to it. 8. Calling it subtilty. 9. This learning very little benefits so- ciety. 10. But destroys the instruments of knowledge and communication. 1 1. As useful as to confound the sound of the letters. 12. This art has perplexed religion and justice. 13. And ought not to pass for learning. 14. Fourthly, Taking them for things. 15. Instance in matter. 16. This makes errors lasting. 17. Fifthly, Setting tliem for what they cannot signify. 18. V. g. putting them for the real es- sences of substances. 19. Hence we think every change of our idea in substances, not to change the species. 20. Thecauseof this abuse, a supposition of nature's working always regularly 21. This abuse contains two false suppo- sitions. « 22. Sixthly,a supposition that words have a certain and evident signification. 23. The ends of language. First, to con- vey our ideas. 24. Secondly, To do it with quickness, 25. Thirdly, Therewith to convey the knowledge of things. 26-31. How men's words fail in all these *32. How in substances. 33 How in modes and relations. 34. Seventhly, Figurative speech also an ab'.i=e of language. 11 CONTEiVis. CHAP- XI. Of the remedies of the foregoing imper- fections and abuses. Sect. 1 . They are worth seeking. 2. Are not easy. 3. But yet necessary to philosophy. 4. Misuse of words, the cause of great errors. 5. Obstinacy. 6. And wrangling, 7. Instance — Bat and bird. 8. First remedy, To use no word with- out an idea. 9. Secondly, To have distinct ideas an- nexed to them in modes. 10. And distinct and conformable in sub- stances. 11. Thirdly, Propriety. 12. Fourthly, To make known their meaning. 13. And that three ways. 14. First, In simple ideas by synonymous terms or showing. 15. Secondly, In mixed modes by defini- tion. 16. Morality capable of demonstration. 17. Definitions can make moral discour- ses clear. 18. And is the only way. 19. Thirdly, In substances, by showing and defining. 20,21. Ideas of the leading qualities of substances, are best got by showing. 22. The ideas of their powers best by de- finition. 23. A reflection en the knowledge of spirits. 24. Ideas also of substances must be con- formable to tilings. 25. Not easy to be made so. 26. Fifthly, by constancy in their signi- fication. 27. When the variationis to be explained. BOOK IV. OF KNOWLEDGE AND OPINION. Sect. ]. CHAP. I. Of knowledge in general. Our knowledge conversant about our ideas. 2. Knowledge is the perception of the agreement or disagreement of two ideas. .». This agreement fourfold. 4. First, Of identity or diversity. 5. Secondly, Relation. 6. Thirdly, Of coexistence. '"'. Fourthly, Of real existence. 3. Knowledge actual or habitual. 9. Habitual knowledge twofold. CHAP. II. Of the degrees of our knowledge. Sect. 1. Intuitive. 2. Demonstrative, 'J. Depends on proofs. 4. But not so easy. 5. Not. without precedent doubt. 6. Not so clear. 7. Each step must have intuitive evi- dence. 8. Hence the mistake ex prajcognitis et praeconcessis. 9. Demonstration not limited to quan- tity. li)-13. Why it has been so thought. 14. Sensitive knowledge of particular existence. 15. Knowledge not always clear, where the ideas are so. CHAP. III. Of the extent of human knoicledge. Sect. 1. FirsT. No farther than we have ideas 2. Secondly, no farther than we can perceive their agreement or disa- greement. 3. Thirdly, intuitive knowledge extends itself not to all the relations of all our ideas. 4. Fourthly, not demonstrative know- ledge. 5. Fifthly, sensitive knowledge narrow- er than either. 6. Sixthly, our knowledge therefore narrower than our ideas. 7. How far our knowledge reaches. 8. First, our knowledge of identity and diversity, as far as our ideas. 9. Secondly, of coexistence a very lit- tle way. 10. Because the connexion between most simple ideas is unknown. 11. Especially of secondary qualities. 12-14. And farther, because all connexion between any secondary and primary qualities is undiscoverable. 15. Of repugnancy to coexist larger. 16. t». 5. This is the first division of the objects v of knowledge. ADDITIONAL PIECES IN VOLUME II. A defence of Mr. Locke's opinion concerning personal identity. Appendix to the defence of Mr. Locke's opinion concerning personal identity Of the conduct of the understanding. Some thoughts concerning reading and study for a gentleman. Elements of natural philosophy. \ new method of a common-place book. HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. BOOK ID. CHAPTER VII. OF PARTICLES. § 1. PARTICLES CONNECT PARTS, OP. WHOLE SENTENCES TOGETHER. Besides words which are names of ideas in the mind, there are a great many others that are made use of to signify the con- nexion that the mind gives to ideas, or propositions, one with another. The mind, in communicating its thought to others, does not only need signs of the ideas it has then before it, but others also, to show or intimate some particular action of its own, at that time, relating to those ideas. This it does several ways; as is, and is not, are the general marks of the mind, affirming or denying. But besides affirmation or negation, with- out which there is in words no truth or falsehood, the mind does, in declaring its sentiments to others, connect not only the parts of propositions, but whole sentences one to another, with their several relations and dependencies, to make a coherent dis- course. § 2. IN THEM CONSISTS THE ART OF WEEL SPEAKING. The words, whereby it signifies what connexion it gives to the several affirmations and negations, that it unites in one continued reasoning or narration, are generally called particles ; and it is in the right use of these that more particularly consists the clearness and beauty of a good style. To think well, it is not enough that a man has ideas clear and distinct in his thoughts, nor that he observes the agreement or disagreement of some of them ; but he must think in train, and observe the dependence of his thoughts and reasonings upon one another. And to express well such methodical and rational thoughts, he must have words to show what connexion, restriction, distinction, opposition, empha- sis, &c. he gives to each respective part of his discourse. To mistake in any of Chose, is to puzzle, instead of informing his Vnr. I|, tO "i P4KTICLES. [booh in. hearer : and therefore it is that those words which are not truly by themselves the names of any ideas, are of such constant and indispensable use in language, and do much contribute to men's well expressing themselves. § 3. THEY SHOW WHAT RELATION THE MIND GIVES TO ITS OWN THOUGHTS. This part of grammar has been perhaps as much neglected, as some others over-diligently cultivated. It is easy for men to write, one after another, of cases and genders, moods and tenses, gerunds and supines : in these, and the like, there has been great diligence used; and particles themselves, in some languages, have been, with great show of exactness, ranked into their several orders. But though prepositions and conjunctions, &c. are names well known in grammar, and the particles contained under them carefully ranked into their distinct subdivisions ; yet he who would show the right use of particles, and what significancy and force they have, must take a little more pains, enter into his own thoughts, and observe nicely the several postures of his mind in discoursing. §4- Neither is it enough, for the explaining of these words, to render them, as is usual in dictionaries, by words of another tongue which come nearest to their signification : for what is meant by them is commonly as hard to be understood in one as another language. They are all marks of some action, or inti- mation of the mind ; and therefore to understand them rightly, the several views, postures, stands, turns, limitations, and excep- tions, and several other thoughts of the mind, for which we have either none, or very deficient names, are diligently to be studied. Of these there is a great variety, much exceeding the number of particles that most languages have to express them by ; and therefore it is not to be wondered that most of tkese particles have divers, and sometimes almost opposite significations. In the Hebrew tongue there is a particle, consisting of but one sin- gle letter, of which there are reckoned up, as I remember, seventy, I am sure above fifty several significations. § 5. INSTANCE IN BUT. But is a particle, none more familiar in our language ; and he that says it is a discretive conjunction, and that it answers sed in Latin, or mats in French, thinks he has sufficiently explained it. But it seems to me to intimate several relations the mind gives to the several propositions or parts of them, which it joins by this monosyllable. First, " but to say no more :" here it intimates the stop of the mind in the course it was going, before it came quite to the end of it. • H. VII. J UP I'.UITICLL.-,. . 11 Secondly, u T saw but two plants :" here it shows, that the mind limits the sense to what is expressed, with a negation of all other. Thirdly, "you pray ; but it is not that God would bring you to the true, religio: ," Fourthly, " but that he would confirm you in your own." The first of these buts intimates a supposition in the mind of something otherwise than it should be ; the latter shows, that the mind makes a direct opposition between that, and what goes before it. Fiftnly, " all animals have sense ; but a dog is an animal :" here it signifies little more, but that the latter proposition is joined to the former, as the minor of a syllogism. § 6. THIS MATTER BUT LIGHTLY TOUCHED HERE. To these, I doubt not, might be added a great many other sig- nifications of this particle, if it were my business to examine it in its full latitude, and consider it in all the places it is to be found : which if one should do, I doubt whether in all those manners it is made use of it would deserve the title of discretive which grammarians give to it. But 1 intend not here a full expli- cation of this sort of signs. The instances I have given in this one, may give occasion to reflect on their use and force in lan- guage, and lead us into the contemplation of several actions of our minds in discoursing, which it has found a way to intimate to others by these particles ; some whereof constantly, and others in certain constructions, have the sense of a whole sentence con- tained in them. CHAPTER VIII. OF ABSTRACT AND CONCRETE TERMb. § 1. ABSTRACT TERMS NOT PREDICABLE ONE OF ANOTHER, AND WHV, The ordinary words of language, and our common use of them, would have given us light into the nature of our ideas, if they had been but considered with attention. The mind, as has been shown, has a power to abstract its ideas, and so they become essences, general essences, whereby the sorts of things are di-tin- guished. Now each abstract idea being distinct, so that of any two the one can never be the other, the mind will, by its intui- tive knowledge, perceive their difference; and therefore in propo- sitions no two whole ideas can ever be affirmed one of another. This we see in the common use of language, which permits not any two abstract words, or names of abstract ideas, to be affirmed ^ne of another. For how near of kin soever they may seem to 12 ABSTRACT AND CONCRETE TERMS. [BOOK I1J. s be. and how certain soever it is, that man is an animal, or rational, or white, yet every one at first hearing perceives the falsehood of these propositions ; humanity is animality, or rationality, or whiteness : and this is as evident as any of the most allowed maxims. All our affirmations then are only inconcrete, which is the affirming, not one abstract idea to be another, but one abstract idea to be joined to another ; which abstract ideas, in substances, may be of any sort ; in all the rest, are little else but of relations ; and in substances, the most frequent are of powers ; v. g. "a man is white," signifies, that the thing that has the essence of a man, has also in it the essence of whiteness, which is nothing but a power to produce the idea of whiteness in one, whose eyes can discover ordinary objects ; or, " a man is rational," signifies that the same thing that hath the essence of a man, hath also in it the essence of rationality, i. e. a power of reasoning. §2. THEV. SHOW THE DIFFERENCE OF OUR IDEAS. This distinction of names shows us also the difference of our ideas : for if we observe them, we shall find that our simple ideas have all abstract as well as concrete names ; the one whereof is (to speak the language of grammarians) a substantive, the other an adjective ; as whiteness, white ; sweetness, sweet. The like also holds in our ideas of modes and relations ; as justice, just ; equality, equal ; only with this difference, that some of the con- crete names of relations, among men chiefly, are substantives ; as paternitas, pater; whereof it were easy to render a reason. But as to our ideas of substances, we have very few or no abstract names at all. For though the schools have introduced animalitas, humanitas, corporietas, and some others ; yet they hold no proportion with that infinite number of names of sub- stances, to which they never were ridiculous enough to attempt the coining of abstract ones : and those few that the schools forged, and put into the mouths of their scholars, could never yet get admittance into common use, or obtain the license of public approbation. Which seems to me at least to intimate the confession of all mankind, that they have no ideas of the real essences of substances, since they have not names for such ideas ; which no doubt they would have had, had not their conscious- ness to themselves of their ignorance of them kept them from so idle an attempt. And therefore, though they had ideas enough io distinguish gold from a stone, and metal from wood; yet they but timorously ventured on such terms, as aurietas and saxietas, me- tallietas and lignietas, or the like names, which should pretend to signify the real essences of those substances, whereof they knew they had no ideas. And indeed it was only the doctrine of sub- stantial forms, and the confidence of mistaken pretenders to a knowledge that they had not, which first coined, and then intro- duced animalitas, and humanitas. and the like ; which yet went i!. iX.J IMPERFECTION OF WORD*. very little farther than their owii schools, and could never get to be current among understanding men. Indeed, huma- nitas was a word familiar among the Romans, but in a far differ- ent sense, and stood not for the abstract essence of any substance; but was the abstracted name of a mode, and its concrete humanus, not homo. CHAPTER IX. OF THE IMPERFECTION OF WORD,-. § 1. WORDS ARE USED FOR RECORDING AND COMMUNICATING Otli THOUGHTS. From what has been said in the foregoing chapters, it is easy to perceive what imperfection there is in language, and how the very nature of words makes it almost unavoidable for many of them to be doubtful and uncertain in their significations. To examine the perfection or imperfection of words, it is necessary first to consider their use and end : for as they are more or less fitted to attain that, so are they more or less perfect. We have, in the former part of this discourse, often upon occasion men- tioned a double use of words. First, one for the recording of our own thoughts. Secondly, the other for the communicating of our thoughts to others. § 2. ANY WORDS WILL SERVE FOR RECORDING. As to the first of these, for the recording our own thoughts for the help of our own memories, whereby, as it were, we talk to ourselves, any words will serve the turn. For since sounds are voluntary and indifferent signs of any ideas, a man may use what words he pleases, to signify his own ideas to himself: and there will be no imperfection in them, if he constantly use the same sign for the same idea 5 for then he cannot fail of having his meaning understood, wherein consists the right use and perfection of language. § 3. COMMUNICATION BY WORDS CIVIL OR PHILOSOPHICAL. Secondly, as to communication of words, that too has a double use. I. Civil. II. Philosophical* First, by their civil use, I mean such a communication of thoughts and ideas by words, as may serve for the upholding common conversation and commerce, about the ordinarv affair Vol. II. 3 14 IMPERFECTION OP WORDS. [BOO K tH, aud conveniencies of civil life, in the societies of men one among another. Secondly, by the philosophical use of words, I mean such a tise of them as may serve to convey the precise notions of things, and to express, in general propositions, certain and undoubted truths, which the mind may rest upon, and be satisfied with, in its search after true knowledge. These two uses are very distinct ; and a great deal less exactness will serve in the one than in the other, as we shall see in what follows. irERFECTlO.\ OF \V0Rt)5. 17 usually learned first ; and then to know what complex ideas they stand for, they are either beholden to the explication of others, or (which happens for the most part) are left to their own observa- tion and industry ; which being little laid out in the search of the true and precise meaning of names, these moral words are in most men's mouths little more than bare sounds ; or when they have any, it is for the most part but a very loose and undeter- mined, and consequently obscure and confused signification. And even those themselves, who have with more attention settled their notions, do yet hardly avoid the inconvenience, to have them stand for complex ideas, different from those which other, even intelligent and studious men, make them the signs of. Where shall one find any, either controversial debate, or familiar discourse, concerning honour, faith, grace, religion, church, &c. wherein it is not easy to observe the different notions men have of them ? which is nothing but this, that they are not agreed in the signification of those words, nor have in their minds the same complex ideas which they make them stand for : and so all the contests that follow thereupon are only about the meaning of a sound. And hence we see, that in the interpreta- tion of laws, whether divine or human, there is no end ; com- ments beget comments, and explications make new matter for explications ; and of limiting, distinguishing, varying the signifi- cation of these moral words, there is no end. These ideas of men's making are, by men still having the same power, multi- plied in infinitum. Many a man who was pretty well satisfied of ihc meaning of a text of scripture, or clause in the code, at first reading, has by consulting commentators quite lost the sense of it, and by these elucidations given rise or increase to his doubts, and drawn obscurity upon the place. I say not this, that I think commentaries needless ; but to show how uncertain the names of mixed modes naturally are, even in the mouths of those who had both the intention and the faculty of speaking as clearly as language was capable to express their thoughts. § 10. HENCE UNAVOIDABLE OBSCURITY IN ANCIENT AUTHORS. What obscurity this has unavoidably brought upon the writings of men, who have lived in remote ages and different countries, it will be needless to take notice ; since the numerous volumes of learned men, employing their thoughts that way, are proofs more than enough to show what attention, study, sagacity, and reason- ing are required, to find out the true meaning of ancient authors. But there being no writings we have any great concernment to be very solicitous about the meaning of, but those that contain either truths we are required to believe, or laws we are to obey, and draw inconveniences on us when we mistake or transgress ; we may be less anxious about the sense of other authors, who writing but their own opinion?, we are under nogreater necessity to 18 IMPERFECTfON OF WORDS. [BOOK 1IJ. know them than they to know ours. Our good or evil depend- ing not on their decrees, we may safely be ignorant of their notions : and therefore, in the reading of them, if they do not use their words with a due clearness and perspicuity, we may lay them aside, and, without any injury done them, resolve thus with ourselves : " Si non vis intelligi, debes negligi." § 11. NAMES OF SUBSTANCES OF DOUBTFUL SIGNIFICATION. If the signification of the names of mixed modes are uncertain, because there be no real standards existing in nature to which those ideas are referred, and by which they may be adjusted ; the names of substances are of a doubtful signification, for a con- trary reason, viz. because the ideas they stand for are supposed conformable to the reality of things, and are referred to standards made by nature. In our ideas of substances, we have not the liberty, as in mixed modes, to frame what combinations we think tit, to be the characteristical notes to rank and denominate things by. In these we must follow nature, suit our complex ideas to real existences, and regulate the signification of their names by the things themselves, if we will have our names to be the signs of them, and stand for them. Here, it is true, we have patterns to follow, but patterns that will make the signification of their names very uncertain; for names must be of a very unsteady and vari- ous meaning, if the ideas they stand for be referred to standards without us, that either cannot be known at all, or can be known but imperfectly and uncertainly. § 12. NAMES OF SUBSTANCES REFERRED, 1. TO REAL ESSENCES THAT CANNOT BE KNOWN. The names of substances have, as has been shown, a double r-eference in their ordinary use. First, sometimes they are made to stand for, and so their signi- cation is supposed to agree to, the real constitution of things, from which all their properties flow, and in which they all centre. But this real constitution, (or as it is apt to be called) essence, being utterly unknown to us, any sound that is put to stand for it must be very uncertain in its application ; and it will be impos- sible to know what things are, or ought to be called a horse, or anatomy, when those words are put for real essences that we have no ideas of at all. And therefore, in this supposition, the names of substances being referred to standards that cannot be known, their significations can never be adjusted and established by those standards. § 13. 2. TO COEXISTING QUALITIES, WHICH ARE KNOWN BUT IMPER- FECTLY. Secondly, the simple ideas that are found to coexist in substances being that which their names immediately signify. . u. IX.] IMPERFECTION OV WORD3. 19 these, as united in the several sorts of things, are the proper standards to which their names are referred, and by which their significations may be best rectified. But neither will these arche- types so well serve this purpose, as to leave these names without very various and uncertain significations: because these simple ideas that coexist, and are united in the same subject, being very numerous, and having all an equal right to go into the complex specific idea, which the specific name is to stand for ; men, though they propose to themselves the very same sub- ject to consider, yet frame very different ideas about it ; and so the name they use for it unavoidably comes to have, in several men, very different significations. The simple qualities which make up the complex ideas, being most of them powers, in relation to changes, which they are apt to make in, or receive from, other bodies, are almost infinite. He that shall but observe what a great variety of alterations any one of the baser metals is apt to receive from the different application only of fire ; and how much a greater number of changes any of them will receive in the hands of a chymist, by the application of other bodies ; will not think it strange that I count the properties of any sort; of bodies not easy to be collected, and completely known by the ways of inquiry, which our faculties are capable of. They being therefore at least so many that no man can know the precise and definite number, they are differently discovered by different men, according to their various skill, attention, and ways of handling; who therefore cannot choose but have different ideas of the same substance, and therefore make the signification of its common name very various and uncertain. For the complex ideas of sub- stances being made up of such simple ones as are supposed to coexist in nature, every one has a right to put into his complex idea those qualities he has found to be united together. For though in the substance of gold one satisfies himself with colour and weight, yet another thinks solubility in aq. regia as necessary to be joined with that colour in his idea of gold as any one does its fusibility ; solubility in aq. regia being a quality as constantly joined withits colour andweight, as fusibility, or any other ; others put in its ductility or fixedness, &c. as they have been taught by tradition or experience. Who of all these has established the right signification of the word gold ? or who shall be the judge to determine ? Each has its standard in nature, which he appeals to; and with reason thinks he has the same right to put into his com- plex idea, signified by the word gold, those qualities which upon trial he has found united, as another, who has not so well examined, has to leave them out ; or a third, who has made other I rials, has to put in others. For the union in nature of these qualities being the true ground of their union in one complex idea, who can say, one of them has more reason to be put in, or left out, than another ? From hence it will always unavoidably follow : that the complex ideas of substances, in men using the snui< nam* 20 IMPERFECTION OF WORDS. [BOOK III- for them, will be very various ; and so the significations of those names very uncertain. § 14. 3. TO COEXISTING QUALITIES WHICH ARE KNOWN BUT IMPER- FECTLY. Besides, there is scarce any particular thing existing, which, in some of its simple ideas, does not communicate with a greater, and in others a less number of particular beings : who shall determine, in this case, which are those that are to make up the precise collection that is to be signified by the specific name ; or can, with any just authority, prescribe which obvious or common qualities are to be left out; or which more secret, or more parti- cular are to be put into the signification of the name of any sub- stance ? All which together seldom or never fail to produce that various and doubtful signification in the names of substances, which causes such uncertainty, disputes, or mistakes, when we come to a philosophical use of them. § 15. WITH THIS IMPERFECTION, THEY MAY SERVE FOR CIVIL, BUT NOT WELL FOR PHILOSOPHICAL USE. It is true, as to civil and common conversation, the general names of substances, regulated in their ordinary signification by some obvious qualities, (as by the shape and figure in things of known seminal propagation, and in other substances, for the most part, by colour, joined with some other sensible qualities) do well enough to design the things men would be understood to speak of; and so they usually conceive well enough the substances meant by the word gold, or apple, to distinguish the one from the other. But in philosophical inquiries and debates, where general truths are to be established, and consequences drawn from posi- tions laid down — there the precise signification of the names of substances will be found, not only not to be well established, but also very hard to be so. For example, he .that shall make mal- leableness, or a certain degree of fixedness, a part of his complex idea of gold, may make propositions concerning gold, and draw consequences from them, that will truly and clearly follow from gold, taken in such a signification ; but yet such as another man can never be forced to admit, nor be convinced of their truth, who makes not malleableness, or the same degree of fixedness, part of that complex idea, that the name gold, in his use of it, stands for. § 16. INSTANCE LIQUOR. This is a natural, and almost unavoidable imperfection in almost all the names of substances, in all languages whatsoever, which men will easily find, when once passing from confused or loose notions, they come to more strict and close inquiries : for then they will be convinced how doubtful and obscure those words are in their signification, which in ordinary use appeared i H. IX. j IMPERFECTION OF WORD--.. very clear and determined. I was once in a meeting of very learned and ingenious physicians, where by chance there arose & question, whether any liquor passed through the filaments of the nerves. The debate having been managed a good while, by variety of arguments on both sides, I (who had been used to suspect that the greatest parts of disputes were more about the signification of words than a real difference in the conception of things) desired, that before they went any farther on in this dis- pute, they would first examine, and establish among them, what the word liquor signified. They at first were a little surprised at the proposal ; and had they been persons less ingenious, they might perhaps have taken it for a very frivolous or extravagant one ; since there was no one there that thought not himself to understand very perfectly what the word liquor stood for ; which 1 think, too, none of the most perplexed names of substances. However, they were pleased to comply with my motion ; and, upon examination, found that the signification of that word was not so settled and certain as they had all imagined, but that each of thorn made it a sign of a different complex idea, This made them perceive that the main of their dispute was about the signi- fication of that term; and that they differed very little in their opinions concerning some fluid and subtile matter passing through the conduits of the nerves , though it was not so easy to agree whether it was to be called liquor or no — a thing which, when considered, they thought it not worth the contending about. § 17. INSTANCE COLD. I low much this is the case in the greatest part of disputes that men are engaged so hotly in, I shall perhaps have an occasion in another place to take notice. Let us only here consider a little more exactly the fore-mentioned instance of the word gold, and we shall see how hard it is precisely to determine its signification. I think all agree to make it stand for a body of a certain yellow shining colour; which being the idea to which children have annexed that name, the shining yellow part of a peacock's tail is properly to them gold. Others finding fusibility, joined with that yellow colour in certain parcels of matter, make of that combi- nation a complex idea, to which they give the name gold, to denote a sort of substances ; and so exclude from being gold all such yellow shining bodies, as by fire will be reduced to ashes 3 and admit to be of that species, or to be comprehended under that name gold, only such substances, as having that shining yel- low colour, will by fire be reduced to fusion, and not to ashes. Another, by the same reason, adds the weight ; which being a quality as straitly joined with that colour as its fusibility, he thinks has the same reason to be joined in its idea, and to he signified by its name ; and therefore the other made up of body, of such a colour and fusibility, to be imperfect : and so on of all tlv Vol. II- i ;j KMl'ERFKCTIOJs Of WORDS. [BOOK ii<. rest : wherein no one can show a reason why some of the inse- parable qualities, that are always united in nature, should be put into the nominal essence, and others left out; or why the word gold, signifying that sort of body the ring on his finger is made of, should determine that sort, rather by its colour, weight, and fusi- bility, than by its colour, weight, and solubility in aq. regia : since the dissolving it by that liquor is as inseparable from it as the fusion by fire ; and they are both of them nothing but the relation which that substance has to two other bodies, which have a power to operate differently upon it. For by what right is it that fusi- bility comes to be a part of the essence signified by the word gold, and solubility but a property of it ; or why is its colour part of the essence, and its malleableness but a property ? That which I mean is this : That these being all but properties depend- ing on its real constitution, and nothing but powers, either active or passive, in reference to other bodies ; no one has authority to determine the signification of the word gold (as referred to such n body existing in nature) more to one collection of ideas to be found in that body than to another : whereby the signification of that name must unavoidably be very uncertain ; since, as has been said, several people observe several properties in the same substance; and, I think, I may say nobody at all. And therefore we have but very imperfect descriptions of things, and words have very uncertain significations. 6 18. THE NAMES OF SIMPLE IDEAS THE LEAST DOUBTFUL. From what has been said, it is easy to observe what has been before remarked, viz. That the names of simple ideas are, of all others, the least liable to mistakes, and that for these reasons. First, because the ideas they stand for, being each but one single perception, are much easier got, and more clearly retained, than the more complex ones ; and therefore are not liable to the uncer- tainty which usually attends those compounded ones of sub- stances and mixed modes, in which the precise number of simple ideas, that make them up, are not easily agreed, and so readily kept in the mind : and secondly, because they are never referred to any other essence, but barely that perception they immediately signify ; which reference is that which renders the signification of the names of substances naturally so perplexed, and gives occa- sion to so many disputes. Men that do not perversely use then words, or on purpose set themselves to cavil, seldom mistake, in any language which they are acquainted with, the use and signi- fy ation of the names of simple ideas: white and sweet, yellow and bitter, carry a very obvious meaning with them, which every- one precisely comprehends, or easily perceives he is ignorant of, and seeks to be informed. But what precise collection of simple ideas modesty or frugality stand for in another's use, is not so certainly known. And however we are apt to think we avi-11 nougn know what ie meant by gold or iron; yet theprecisi GET, IX.] IMPERFECTION OF WOHDS. 23 complex idea others make them the signs of, is not so certain ; and I believe it is very seldom that, in speaker and hearer, they stand for exactly the same collection : which must needs produce mistakes and disputes, when they arc made use of in discourses, wherein men have to do with universal propositions, and would 6ettle in their minds universal truths, and consider the con- sequences that follow from them. § 19. AND NEXT TO THEM, SIMPLE MOOES. By the same rule, the names of simple modes are, next to those of simple ideas, least liable to doubt and uncertainty, especially those of figure and number, of which men have so clear and dis- tinct ideas. Who ever, that had a mind to understand them, mis- took the ordinary meaning of seven, or a triangle ? And in general the least compounded ideas in every kind have the least dubious names. § 20. THE MOST DOUBTFUL ARE THE NAMES OF VERY COMPOUNDED MIXED MODES AND SUBSTANCES. Mixed modes, therefore, that are made up but of a few and obvious simple ideas, have usually names of no very uncertain signification ; but the names of mixed modes, which comprehend a great number of simple ideas, are commonly of a very doubt- ful and undetermined meaning, as has been shown. The names of substances, being annexed to ideas that are neither the real essences nor exact representations of the patterns they are referred to, are liable yet to greater imperfection and uncertainty, especially when we come to a philosophical use of them. § 21. WHY THIS IMPERFECTION CHARGED UPON WORDS. The great disorder that happens in our names of substances, proceeding for the most part from our want o( knowledge, and inability to penetrate into their real constitutions, it may proba- bly be wondered, why I charge this no an imperfection rather upon our words than understandings. This exception has so much appearance of justice, that I think myself obliged to give a reason why 1 have followed this method. I must confess then, that when I first began this discourse of the understanding, and a good while after, I had not the least thought that any considera- tion of words was at all necessary to it. But when, having passed over the original and composition of our ideas, 1 began to examine the extent and certainty of our knowledge, I found it had so near a connexion with words, that, unless their force and man- ner of signification were first well observed, there could be verv little said clearly and pertinently concerning knowledge ; which being conversant about truth, had constantly to do with proposi- tions ; and though it terminated in things, yet it was for the most part so much by the intervention of words, that they seemed scarce separable from our ccncral khowledge. At least, they 24 IMPERFECTION OF WORDs. [BOOK III," interpose themselves so much between our understandings and the truth, which it would contemplate and apprehend, that, like the medium through which visible objects pass, their obscurity and disorder do not seldom cast a mist before our eyes, and im- pose upon our understandings. If we consider, in the fallacies men put upon themselves as well as others, and the mistakes in men's disputes and notions, how great a part is owing to words, and their uncertain or mistaken significations — we shall have reason to think this no small obstacle in the way to knowledge ; which, I conclude, we are the more carefully to be warned of. because it has been so far from being taken notice of as an incon- venience, that the arts of improving it have been made the busi- ness of men's study, and obtained the reputation of learning and subtilty, as we shall see in the following chapter. But I am apt to imagine, that were the imperfections of language, as the instru- ments of knowledge, more thoroughly weighed, a great many of the controversies that make such a noise in the world, would of themselves cease; and the way to knowledge, and perhaps peace, too, lie a great deal opener than it does. § 22. THIS SHOULD TEACH US MODERATION, IN IMPOSING OUR OWN SENSE OF OLD AUTHORS. Sure I am, that the signification of words in all languages, de- pending very much on the thoughts, notions, and ideas of him that uses them, must unavoidably be of great uncertainty to men of the same language and country. This is so evident in the Greek authors, that he that shall peruse their writings will find in almost every one of them a distinct language, though the same words. But when to this natural difficulty in every country there shall be added different countries and remote ages, wherein the speakers and writers had very different notions, tempers, customs, ornaments, and figures of speech, &c. every one of which influ- enced the signification of their words then, though to us now they are lost and unknown ; it would become us to be charitable one to another in our interpretations or misunderstanding of those ancient writings ; which, though of great concernment to be understood, are liable to the unavoidable difficulties of speech, which (if we except the names of simple ideas, and some very obvious things) is not capable, without a constant defining the terms, of conveying the sense and intention of the speaker, without any manner of doubt and uncertainty, to the hearer. And in discourses of religion, law, and morality, as they are matters of the highest con- cernment, so there will be the greatest difficulty* § 23. The volumes of interpreters and commentators on the old and new Testament are but too manifest proofs of this. Though every thing said in the text be infallibly true, yet the reader may be. nay cannot choose but be, very fallible in the understanding .h. X.] ABUSE OF WORDS. 25 of it. Nor is it to be wondered, that the will of God, when clothed in words, should be liable to that doubt and uncertainty which unavoidably attends that sort of conveyance ; when even his Son, whilst clothed in flesh, was subject to all the frailties and inconveniences of human nature, sin excepted : and we ought to magnify his goodness, that he hath spread before all the world such legible characters of his works and providence, and given all mankind so sufficient a light of reason, that they to whom this written word never came, could not (whenever they set them- selves to search) either doubt of the being of a God, or of the obedience due to him. Since then the precepts of natural reli- gion are plain, and very intelligible to all mankind, and seldom come to be controverted ; and other revealed truths, which are conveyed to us by books and languages, are liable to the com- mon and natural obscurities and difficulties incident to words; methinks it would become us to be more careful and diligent in observing the former, and less magisterial, positive, and imperious m imposing our own sense and interpretations of the latter. CHAPTER X. OF THE ABUSE OF WORDS. § 1. ABUSE OF WORDS. Besides the imperfection that is naturally in language, and the obscurity and confusion that is so hard to be avoided in the use of words, there are several wilful faults and neglects which men are guilty of in this way of communication, whereby they render these signs less clear and distinct in their signification than natu- rally they need to be. § 2. FIRST, WORDS WITHOUT AMY, OR WITHOUT CLEAR IDF. AS. First, in this kind, the first and most palpable abuse is, the using of words without clear and distinct ideas; or, which is worse, signs without any thing signified. Of these there are two sorts. I. One may observe, in all languages, certain words, that, it they be examined, will be found, in their first original and their appropriated use, not to stand for any clear and distinct idea-. These for the most part, the several sects of philosophy and reli- gion have introduced. For their authors or promoters, either affecting something singular and out of the way of common apprehension, or to support some strange opinions, or cover some weakness of their hypothesis, seldom fail to coin new words, and iG ABUSE OF WORDS. [BOOK HI. such as, when they come to be examined, may justly be called insignificant terms. For having either had no determinate col- lection of ideas annexed to them, when they were first invented, or at least, such as, if well examined, will be found inconsistent ; it is no wonder if afterward, in the vulgar use of the same party, they remain empty sounds, with little or no signification, among those who think it enough to have them often in their mouths, as the distinguishing characters of their church, or school, with- out much troubling their heads to examine what are the precise ideas they stand for. 1 shall not need here to heap up instances 5 every man's reading and conversation will sufficiently furnish him : or if he wants to be better stored, the great mint-masters of this kind of terms, I mean the schoolmen and metaphysicians, (under which, I think, the disputing natural and moral philoso- phers of these latter ages may be comprehended) have where- withal abundantly to content him. §3. II. Others there be who extend this abuse yet farther ; who take so little care to lay by words, which, in their primary nota- tion, have scarce any clear and distinct ideas which they are annexed to ; that, by an unpardonable negligence, they familiarly use words, which the propriety of language has affixed to very important ideas, without any distinct meaning at all. Wisdom, glory, grace, &c. are words frequent enough in every man's mouth ; but if a great many of those who use them should be asked what they mean by them, they would be at a stand, and not know what to answer : a plain proof, that though they have learned those sounds, and have them ready at their tongues' end, yet there are no determined ideas laid up in their minds, which are to be expressed to others by them. § 4. OCCASIONED BY LEARNING NAMES BEFORE THE IDEAS THEY BELONG TO. Men having been accustomed from their cradles to learn words, which are easily got and retained, before they knew or had framed the complex ideas to which they were annexed, or which were to be found in the things they were thought to stand for ; they usually continue to do so all their lives ; and, without taking the pains necessary to settle in their minds determined ideas, they use their words for such unsteady and confused notions as they have, contenting themselves with the same words other people use : as if their very sound necessarily carried with it constantly the same meaning. This, though men make a shift with, in the ordinary occurrences of life, where they find it necessary to be understood, and therefore they make signs till they are so ; yet this insignifi- cancy in their words, when they come to reason concerning either their tenets or interest, manifestlv fills their discourse with abun* i [|. s.j ABUSE OF WORns. 2', dance of empty unintelligible noise and jargon; especially in moral matters, where the words for the most part standing for arbitrary and numerous collections of ideas, not regularly and permanently united in nature, their bare sounds are often only thought on, or at least very obscure and uncertain notions annexed to them. Men take the words they (ind in use among their neigh- bours; and that they may not seem ignorant what they stand for, use them confidently, without much troubling their heads about a certain fixed meaning : whereby, besides the ease of it, they obtain this advantage ; that as in such discourses they seldom are in the right, so they are as seldom to be convinced that they are in the wrong ; it being all one to go about to draw those men out of their mistakes, who have no settled notions, as to dispossess a vagrant of his habitation, who has no settled abode. This I guess to be so ; and every one may observe in himself and others -whether it be or no. § 5. UNSTEADY APPLICATION OF THEM. Secondly, another great abuse of words is inconstancy in the use of them. It is hard to find a discourse written of any subject, especially of controversy, wherein one shall not observe, if he read with attention, the same words (and those commonly the most material in the discourse, and upon which the argument turns) used sometimes for one collection of simple ideas, and sometimes for another ; which is a perfect abuse of language. Words being intended for signs of my ideas, to make them known to others, not by any natural signification, but by a voluntary imposition — it is plain cheat and abuse, when 1 make them stand sometimes for one thing and sometimes for another ; the wilful doing whereof can be imputed to nothing but great folly, or greater dishonesty : and a man, in his accounts with another, may, with as much fairness, make the characters of numbers stand sometimes for one and sometimes for another collection of units. (v.g. this character 3 stands sometimes for three, sometimes for four, and sometimes for eight) as in his discourse, or reasoning, make the same words stand for different collections of simple ideas. If men should do so in their reckonings, I wonder who would have to do with them ? One who would speak thus, in the affairs and business of the world, and call eight sometimes seven, and sometimes nine, as best served his advantage, would pre- sently have clapped upon him one of the two names men are commonly disgusted with : and yet in arguings and learned contests, the same sort of proceedings passes commonly for wit and learning: but to me it appears a greater dishonesty than the misplacing of counters in the casting up a debt ; and the cheat the greater, by how much truth is of greater concernment, and \alue than money. ABUSE OF WORDS. [BOOK Iif^ § 6. AFFECTED OBSCURITY BY WRONG APPLICATION. Thirdly, another abuse of language is an affected obscurity, by either applying old words to new and unusual significations, or introducing new and ambiguous terms, without defining either : or else putting them so together, as may confound their ordinary meaning. Though the Peripatetic philosophy has been most eminent in this way, yet other sects have not been wholly clear of it. There are scarce any of them that are not cumbered with some difficulties (such is the imperfection of human know- ledge) which they have been fain to cover with obscurity of terms, and to confound the signification of words, which, like a mist before people's eyes, might hinder their weak parts from being discovered. That body and extension, in common use, stand for two distinct ideas, is plain to any one that will but reflect a little : for were their signification precisely the same, it would be proper, and as intelligible to say, the body of an extension, as the extension of a body: and yet there are those who find it necessary to confound their signification. To this abuse, and the mischiefs of confounding the signification of words, logic and the liberal sciences, as they have been handled in the schools, have given reputation ; and the admired art of disputing hath added much to the natural imperfection of languages, whilst it has been made use of and fitted to perplex the signification of words, more than to discover the knowledge and truth of things : and he that will look into that sort of learned wri- tings, will find the words there much more obscure, uncertain, and undetermined in their meaning than they are in ordinary conversation. § 7. LOGIC AND DISPUTE HAVE MUCH CONTRIBUTED TO THIS. This is unavoidably to be so, where men's parts and learning are estimated by their skill in disputing. And if reputation and reward shall attend these conquests, which depend mostly on the fineness and niceties of words, it is no wonder if the wit of man, so employed, should perplex, involve, and subtilize the significa- tion of sounds, so as never to want something to say, in opposing or defending any question ; the victory being adjudged not to him who had truth on his side, but the last word in the dispute. § 8. CALLING IT SUBTILTY. This, though a very useless skill, and that which I think in- direct opposite to the ways of knowledge, hath yet passed hitherto under the laudable and esteemed names of subtilty and acute- ness ; and has had the applause of the schools, and encourage- ment of one part of the learned men of the world. And no wonder; since the philosophers of old (the disputing and wran- gling philosophers I mean, such as Lucian wittily and with reason taxes)and the schoolmen since, aiming at glory and esteem for their great and universal knowledge, (easier a great deal to be pre ^ j.«. X.j ABUSE OF WORDS. 29 tended to than really acquired) found this a good expedient to cover their ignorance with a curious and inexplicable web of perplexed words, and procure to themselves the admiration of others by unintelligible terms, the apter to produce wonder, because they could not be understood : whilst it appears in all history, that these profound doctors were no wiser, nor more useful", than their neighbours ; and brought but small advantage to human life, or the societies wherein they lived ; unless the coining of new words, where they produced no new things to apply them to, or the perplexing or obscuring the signification of old ones, and so bringing all things into question and dispute, were a thing profitable to the life of man, or worthy commenda- tion and reward. § 9. THIS LEARNING VERY LITTLE BENEFITS SOCIETY. For notwithstanding these learned disputants, these all-knowing doctors, it was to the unscholastic statesman that the govern- ments of the world owed their peace, defence, and liberties; and from the illiterate and contemned mechanic (a name of disgrace) that they received the improvements of useful arts. Neverthe- less, this artificial ignorance and learned gibberish prevailed mightily in these last ages, by the interest and artifice of those who found no easier way to that pitch of authority and dominion they have attained, than by amusing the men of business and ignorant with hard words, or employing the ingenious and idle in intricate disputes about unintelligible terms, and holding them perpetually entangled in that endless labyrinth. Besides, there is no such way to gain admittance, or give defence to strange and absurd doctrines, as to guard them round about with legions of obscure, doubtful, and undefined words : which yet make these retreats more like the dens of robbers, or holes of foxes, than the fortresses of fair warriors ; which, if it be hard to get them out of, it is not for the strength that is in them, but the briers and thorns, and the obscurity of the thickets they are beset with. For untruth being unacceptable to the mind of man, there is no other defence left for absurdity but obscurity. § 10. BUT DESTROYS THE INSTJLUMEKTS OF KNOWLEDCE AND COMMUNI- CATION. Thus learned ignorance, and this art of keeping, even inquisi- tive men, from true knowledge, hath been propagated in the world, and hath much perplexed, whilst it pretended to inform the understanding. For we see that other well-meaning and wise men, whose education and parts had not acquired that acuteness, could intelligibly express themselves to one another ; and in its plain use make a benefit of language. But though unlearned men well enough understood the words white and black, &C and had constant notions of the ideas signified by those words ; \et