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 JOHN LOCKE 
 1632-1704 
 
 From an Engraving by F. Morellan de la Cave, after G. Kneller
 
 LOCKE'S ESSAY 
 
 CONCERNING 
 
 HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 
 
 BOOKS II AND IV 
 
 (WITH OMISSIONS) 
 
 SELECTED BY 
 
 MARY WHITON CALKINS 
 
 THIRD EDITION 
 REVISED AND ENLARGED 
 
 "TO KNOW HOW TO SAY WHAT OTHER PEOPLE ONLY 
 THINK IS WHAT MAKES MEN POETS AND SAGES" 
 
 CHICAGO ::: LONDON 
 THE OPEN COURT PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 1917
 
 COPYRIGHT BY 
 
 THE OPEN COURT PUBLISHING CO. 
 
 1905 
 
 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
 
 STACK ANNEX 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THIS condensation of Locke's "Essay Concerning 
 Human Understanding" is printed with a single prac- 
 tical end in view : to present in inexpensive form the 
 essentials of Locke's teaching in metaphysics and in 
 psychology. Book I., except the first, introductory 
 chapter, is omitted, because the innate-idea controversy 
 is a dead issue; Book III. is omitted because it deals 
 with considerations of logic and of language. The 
 omissions from Books II. and IV. have been made 
 with regret but, it is hoped, with judgment. 
 
 The body of the text has been compared, word for 
 word, with that of Eraser's edition ; but in the para- 
 graph headings, orthography, punctuation and use of 
 italics, another edition (the thirty-fifth) has been fol- 
 lowed. The title-page is that of the second edition. 
 No bibliographical or historical notes have been added, 
 for Eraser's edition makes it unnecessary and imper- 
 tinent for any other person to repeat his work. 
 
 Brackets, adopted from the Eraser text, indicate 
 deviations, from the first edition of the "Essay," in the 
 three other editions published in Locke's lifetime and 
 in the French translation made by Coste, but super- 
 vised by Locke himself. The most important of these 
 changes are the addition of chapter xxvu. to Book II., 
 and the alteration of chapters vm. and xxi. The 
 changes in chapter vm. were first made in the fourth
 
 iv PREFACE. 
 
 edition ; the most important changes in chapter xxi. 
 in particular the substitution of sections 28-62 for the 
 original sections, 28-38, were made in the 2d edition.* 
 
 This preface offers an opportunity to urge on stu- 
 dents of the "Essay" the advantages of a further 
 reading of Locke. His treatises on social and political 
 subjects, however antiquated the precise problems 
 under discussion, contain the germs of important the- 
 ories later formulated by other writers ; his little work 
 on education has a permanent value both for its con- 
 stant insistence on the need of regarding the individ- 
 uality of child or pupil, and for specific counsels of 
 many sorts; his letters, finally, especially those to his 
 young friend and "obstinate lover," Anthony Collins, 
 form an invaluable part of the literature of friendship. 
 
 For permission to reproduce the title-page of a 
 copy of the second edition of the "Essay," the editor 
 
 is indebted to the Harvard University library. 
 * * * 
 
 The second edition of this reprint of Locke's ''Es- 
 say" is enriched by the English translation of Leclerc's 
 "Life and Character of Mr. John Locke" the little 
 work which lies at the basis of most of the biographies 
 of Locke, and which is not now elsewhere readily 
 accessible. This "Life" is reprinted from the original 
 English edition and the spelling, capitals, and italics 
 are faithfully followed, save that the corrections indi- 
 cated by the translator in his list of Errata have been 
 incorporated in the text, and three obvious misprints 
 have been corrected because they affect the sense. 
 
 For the preparation of the Index, also added to this 
 edition, the editor is indebted to Miss Helen G. Hood, 
 student in philosophy at Wellesley College. 
 
 * Cf. Eraser's edition. I. p. 330 Note, and pp. 373-379.
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS AND OF CHAPTER 
 HEADINGS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF MR. JOHN LOCKE. By Le 
 
 Clerc ; translated by T. F. P. Gent ix 
 
 CHRONOLOGICAL LIST OF THE WRITINGS OF LOCKE 
 
 (Adapted from Fraser's " Locke.") Iv 
 
 FACSIMILE OF TITLE-PAGE OF SECOND EDITION .... i 
 
 EPISTLE DEDICATORY 3 
 
 THE EPISTLE TO THE READER 7 
 
 BOOK I. OF INNATE NOTIONS. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 I. Introduction 17 
 
 II. No Innate Principles in the Mind.* . . . 
 
 III. No Innate Practical Principles.* .... 
 
 IV. Other Considerations Concerning Innate . 
 
 Principles, Both Speculative and Practical.* 
 
 BOOK II. OF IDEAS. 
 
 I. Of Ideas in General, and Their Original . 25 
 
 II. Of Simple Ideas 33 
 
 III. Of Ideas of One Sense 36 
 
 IV. Of Solidity 38 
 
 V. Of Simple Ideas of Divers Senses. ... 43 
 
 VI. Of Simple Ideas of Reflection 44 
 
 VII. Of Simple Ideas of Both Sensation and 
 
 Reflection 45 
 
 VIII. Some Farther Considerations Concerning Our 
 
 Simple Ideas 50 
 
 These chapters are not included in this edition of the Essay. 
 V
 
 vi CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 IX. Of Perception 64 
 
 X. Of Retention 72 
 
 XI. Of Discerning, and Other Operations of the 
 
 Mind 80 
 
 XII. Of Complex Ideas 90 
 
 XIII. Of Simple Modes, and First, of the Simple 
 
 Modes of Space 95 
 
 XIV. Of Duration and Its Simple Modes.* . . 
 XV. Of Duration and Expansion, Considered To- 
 gether.* 
 
 XVI. Of Number.* 
 
 XVII. Of Infinity 95 
 
 XVIIL Of Other Simple Modes 114 
 
 XIX. Of the Modes of Thinking 118 
 
 XX. Of Modes of Pleasure and Pain 121 
 
 XXI. Of Power 127 
 
 XXIL Of Mixed Modes.* 
 
 XXIII. Of Our Complex Ideas of Substances. . . 193 
 XXIV. Of Collective Ideas of Substances. . . . 223 
 
 XXV. Of Relation 225 
 
 XXVI. Of Cause and Effect and Other Relations. . 232 
 
 XXVII. Of Identity and Diversity 237 
 
 XXVIIL Of Other Relations.* 
 
 XXIX. Of Clear and Obscure, Distinct and Confused 
 
 Ideas.* 
 
 XXX. Of Real and Fantastical Ideas.* .... 
 XXXI. Of Adequate and Inadequate Ideas.* . . . 
 
 XXXII. Of True and False Ideas * 
 
 XXXIII. Of the Association of Ideas.* 
 
 BOOK III. OF WORDS* 
 
 I. Of Words or Language in General. . 
 II. Of the Signification of Words . 
 
 III. Of General Terms 
 
 IV. Of the Names of Simple Ideas. . 
 
 These chapters are not included in this edition of the Essay.
 
 CONTENTS. vii 
 
 CHAP. PACE 
 
 V. Of the Names of Mixed Modes and Relations. 
 
 VI. Of the Names of Substances 
 
 VII. Of Particles 
 
 VIII. Of Abstract and Concrete Terms 
 
 IX. Of the Imperfection of Words 
 
 X. Of the Abuse of Words 
 
 XL Of the Remedies of the Foregoing Imperfec- 
 tions and Abuses 
 
 BOOK IV. OF KNOWLEDGE AND OPINION. 
 
 I. Of Knowledge in General 267 
 
 II. Of the Degrees of Our Knowledge. . . . 274 
 III. Of the Extent of Human Knowledge. . . 284 
 IV. Of the Reality of Human Knowledge. . . 298 
 
 V. Of Truth in General.* 
 
 VI. Of Universal Propositions, Their Truth and 
 
 Certainty.* 
 
 VII. Of Maxims.* 
 
 VIII. Of Trifling Propositions* 
 
 IX. Of Our Threefold Knowledge of Existence. 314 
 X. Of Our Knowledge of the Existence of a 
 
 God 315 
 
 XL Of Our Knowledge of the Existence of 
 
 Other Things 330 
 
 XII. Of the Improvement of Our Knowledge.* . 
 XIII. Some Farther Considerations Concerning Our 
 
 Knowledge.* 
 
 XIV.- Of Judgment.* ' 
 
 XV. Of Probability.* . 
 
 XVL Of the Degrees of Assent* 
 
 XVIL Of Reason* 
 
 XVIIL Of Faith and Reason, and Their Distinct 
 
 Provinces.* 
 
 XIX. Of Enthusiasm* 
 
 XX. Of Wrong Assent, or Error.* 
 
 XXI. Of the Division of the Sciences.* .... 
 INDEX 343 
 
 * These chapters are not included in this edition of the Essay.
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF MR. JOHN 
 LOCKE,* 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE ESSAY CONCERNING HUMANE 
 UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 Written in French, by Mr. Le Clerc, And done 
 into English, by T. F. P. Gent. 
 
 Mr. John Locke was the son of Mr. John Locke of 
 Pensford, in Somersetshire, in the West of England: 
 The Family had its rise at a Place call'd Channon 
 Court, in Dorsetshire. 
 
 He was born at Wrington* (alias Wrinton} and 
 according to the Parish-Register, was Baptiz'd, the 
 29th of August 1632. his Father was Heir to a much 
 greater Estate, then he left behind him ; and was a 
 Captain in the Parliaments Army, in the Civil Wars 
 under Charles the First: And it is very probable, 
 that at that Time by the misfortunes of the War, he 
 lost some Part of his Estate; for his Son us'd to 
 speak of him, as a wise and sober Man ; so that I 
 can't think he either lost it by his Folly, or squander'd 
 it away by his Extravagance. Mr. Locke never men- 
 tion'd his Parents, but with a great deal of Respect 
 and Tenderness. Tho' they were young enough when 
 they Married, yet they had but two Children, of which 
 he was the Eldest. The other, who was also a Son, 
 died of a Phthisick above 40 Years ago. 
 
 Mr. Lock's Father took great Care in his Educa- 
 
 * 7 or 8 Miles South of Bristol.
 
 x THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. 
 
 tion, and carried himself towards him in such a man- 
 ner, as his Son hath often commended. He was se- 
 vere to him, while he was a Child, and kept him at 
 a very great Distance ; but as he grew up, he was 
 more free and familiar with him ; and when he was 
 come to Years of Discretion, they liv'd together rather 
 as Friends, than as two Persons, one of which might 
 justly claim Respect from the other ; insomuch that 
 (as Mr. Locke himself has said) his Father excus'd 
 himself to him for having beaten him once in his 
 Childhood; rather in Anger, then because he deserv'd 
 it. 
 
 Mr. Locke began his Studies in Westminster 
 School, where he continu'd to the Year 1651. from 
 whence he was sent to Christ-Church Colledge in 
 Oxford, of which he was elected Fellow. Mr. Tyrell, 
 Grandson of the famous Archbishop Usher, sufficiently 
 known by his Works, remembers that Mr. Locke was 
 then lookt on as the most ingenious young Man in 
 the Colledge. 
 
 But altho' Mr. Locke had gain'd such a Reputation 
 in the University, he has been often heard to say, 
 of the first Years of his being there, that he found 
 so little Satisfaction, in the Method that was prescrib'd 
 them for their Study's, that he has wish'd his Father 
 had never sent him to Oxford, when he found that 
 what he had learnt there, was of little use to him, 
 to enlighten and enlarge his Mind, and to make him 
 more exact in his Reasonings ; he fancied it was be- 
 cause his genius was not suited to those Study's. I 
 my self have heard him complain of the Method he 
 took in his Study's at first, in a Discourse which I 
 had with him one Day on that Subject; and when I 
 told him that I had a Cartesian Professour for mv
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. xi 
 
 Tutor, a Man of a clear Head, he said, he was not so 
 happy; (tho' 'tis well known he was no Cartesian) 
 and that he lost a great deal of Time, when he first 
 applied himself to Study, because the only Philosophy 
 then known at Oxford was the Peripatetick, perplex'd 
 with obscure Terms and stuff' d with useless Questions. 
 Being thus discourag'd by the Method of studying 
 that was then in Vogue, he diverted himself by writing 
 to some Gentlemen, with whom he chose to hold Cor- 
 respondence for the sake of their good Humour, their 
 pleasant and agreeable Temper, rather than on the 
 Account of their Learning, and he confess'd that he 
 spent some Years in this manner. It is not probable, 
 that Mr. Locke wrote then as well as he did after- 
 wards, when he knew more of the World, but their 
 Letters would without doubt have been very enter- 
 taining to all, had they been preserv'd ; and since he 
 has been engag'd in publick Business, some Persons 
 in England of a very good Judgment, have thought 
 that in Letters of this Nature, for a fine, delicate turn, 
 he was not inferiour to Voiture ; tho' it must be con- 
 fess'd, of his English it is not so pure, or so much 
 studied as Voiture's French. In his two last Letters 
 of Toleration, in his Defences of the reasonableness 
 of Christianity, and in his Answers to the Learned 
 Dr. Stillingneet late Lord Bishop of Worcester, we 
 may see some Passages that are a Proof of this. In 
 those Places where his Matter allow'd him to speak 
 Ironically, or to use a little Raillery, he did it with so 
 much Wit as gave Life and Beauty to his Discourse, 
 and at the same time kept up that grave and serious 
 Character, which runs throughout those Pieces, and 
 never failed in that Respect, which was due to the 
 Bishop of Worcester.
 
 xii THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. 
 
 Mr. Locke did not acquire this great Reputation 
 he had at Oxford (as Mr. Tyrell says) by his per- 
 formances in the publick Disputations, for he was ever 
 averse to these, and always look'd upon them as no 
 better than wrangling, and that they served only for 
 a vain Ostentation of a Man's Parts, and not in the 
 least for the discovery of Truth, and advancement of 
 Knowledge. 
 
 The Works of Des Cartes were the first Books 
 that brought Mr. Locke (as he himself told me) to 
 relish the Study of Philosophy. For tho' he did not 
 Assent to the Truth of all his Notions, he found that 
 he wrote with great clearness, which made him think, 
 that it was the fault of the Authors, rather than his 
 own, that he had not understood some other Philo- 
 sophical Books. 
 
 And thus beginning afresh to Study, and more earn- 
 estly than he did before, he applied himself particu- 
 larly to Medicine, tho' this never turn'd to his own 
 Profit, because he did not find that he had a Constitu- 
 tion of Body strong enough to bear those Fatigues, 
 to which they are necessarily exposed, who would 
 have any considerable Practice. But tho' he never 
 practis'd Physick, he was in great esteem, with the 
 most able Physicians of his Time: We have a clear 
 Proof of this in the Dedication of an excellent Book, 
 De morbis acutis, put out in the Year 1675. by the 
 famous Dr. Thomas Sydenham, where he speaks to 
 this Purpose ; besides you know, that my Method hath 
 been approv'd by one, who hath examin'd it thor- 
 oughly, and who is our common Friend, I mean, Mr. 
 John Locke, who whether we respect his Wit, or his 
 piercing and exact Judgment, or whether we look 
 to his prudent and regular Behaviour, there is no
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE, xiii 
 
 Person in our Age that excels him, and there are 
 but few that are his equals. This was the Opinion 
 of one of the greatest Practitioners in Physick, and 
 one of the honestest Men, that London had in the 
 last Age. Therefore I shall give you his own Terms, 
 because they are much more expressive in Latine: 
 Nosti prccterea quern huic mea? methodo suffragantem 
 habeam,qid earn intimius per omnia perspexerat,utrique 
 nostrum conjunctissimum, Dominum Joannem Locke ; 
 quo quidem viro, sive ingenio judicioque acri & sub- 
 acto, sire etiam antiquis, hoc est, optimis moribus, zn.v 
 Superiorem quenquam, inter eos qui nunc sunt homi- 
 nes, repertum iri confido, paucissimos certe pares. 
 After the Preface of this Book there are some Elegiack 
 Verses of Mr. Lock's which are indeed full of Wit 
 and Fancy, but the stile of them is not -altogether 
 exact or Poetical. He had too little esteem for the 
 Poets to throw away much Time in reading them, 
 and to take the pains to imitate them. He sign'd 
 those Verses in this manner, /. Locke, A. M. Ex Aede 
 Christi, Oxon. he contented himself with the Title 
 of Master of Arts, without taking the Degree of a 
 Doctor of Physick, tho' those that did not know him 
 usually call'd him Doctor Locke. This he told me, 
 when I dedicated to him one Part of my Philosophy 
 in 1692. 
 
 In 1664. He left England, and went for Germany 
 as Secretary to Sir William Swan, who was Envoy 
 of the King of England to the Elector of Brandebonrg, 
 and some other German Princes. In less than a Year 
 he return'd, and went to Study at the University of 
 Oxford, as he formerly did ; and among other things, 
 he apply'd himself to Natural Phylosophy, as is evi- 
 dent from the Journal, which he kept of the Changes
 
 xiv THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. 
 
 of the Air from 24th of June 1666. to the 28th of 
 March 1667. For the regular Observation of which 
 he us'd a Barometer, Thermometer and Hygroscope. 
 The Journal may be seen in the General History of the 
 Air, by Mr. Boyle, Publish 'd at London in 1692. 
 
 While he was at Oxford in 1666. he came ac- 
 quainted with the Lord Ashley, who was afterwards 
 Earl of Shaftsbury, and Lord High Chancellour of 
 England, his Lordship had been for a considerable 
 Time indispos'd by a fall, whereby his Chest was so 
 much bruised, that it occasion'd the gathering of an 
 Imposthume, as appear'd by a swelling under his 
 Stomach, he had been advis'd for this to drink the 
 Mineral Waters of Astrop, and w r rote to Mr. Thomas 
 a Physician of Oxford, to send for some to Oxford 
 against his arrival. But Mr. Thomas being oblig'd 
 at that time to go out of Town, left his Commission 
 in Charge with his Friend Mr. Locke, and the Day 
 after his Lordships arrival, the Waters not being ready 
 by neglect of the Person imploy'd to fetch them, Mr. 
 Locke was oblig'd to go to his Lordships Lodging to 
 excuse himself, and was introduc'd by Mr. Bennet who 
 came in the same Coach with my Lord. His Lord- 
 ship receiv'd him very civilly, according to his usual 
 manner, and was very well satisfied with his excuses. 
 When he was about to take his Leave of him, my 
 Lord who w^as extremely well-pleas'd with his Con- 
 versation, would needs make him stay Supper, and 
 as his Lordship was taken with Mr. Lock's Discourse, 
 so Mr. Locke was charm'd with my Lord Ashley, 
 whose Wit and Civility gave him a distinguishing 
 Character among those of his own Rank. 
 
 He was one that had a quick and sharp Wit, an 
 accurate and solid Judgment, a retentive Memory,
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. xv 
 
 noble and generous Sentiments, and with all this a 
 gay and pleasant Temper, which he retain'd in the 
 midst of the greatest Troubles, he had read much 
 and seen more of the World. In a little time he got 
 a great deal of Knowledge and Experience, and be- 
 came the best Statesman in England, at an Age when 
 others scarce begin to understand or enquire after 
 publick Concerns. The Imployments he had when 
 King Charles the Second made use of his Service took 
 him off from his Studies. But he was of so quick an 
 Apprehension, that by once reading a Book, tho' in 
 haste, he could see its faults and excellencies, some- 
 times better, than those who perus'd it at their Leisure ; 
 besides he was a Man of a free and easy Carriage, an 
 Enemy to Complements, and not in the least Cere- 
 monious, so that one might Converse with him with- 
 out constraint, and use all desirable Freedom. He 
 carried himself familiarly to all Men, and yet never 
 did anything unworthy or below his Character. He 
 could never suffer what had the least appearance of 
 Slavery either in himself, or in his Inferiours. 
 
 So that Mr. Locke did with pleasure all his Life 
 after, reflect on the Satisfaction that he receiv'd from 
 his Conversation, and when ever he prais'd him, he 
 did it not only with Respect, but even with Admira- 
 tion ; as those who knew the Penetration and Sincerity 
 of Mr. Locke, will from hence form to themselves a 
 high Idea of my Lord Ashley, so those who were 
 acquainted with my Lord Ashley, can't but think that 
 Mr. Locke was a Man of uncommon genius, when they 
 consider the value he had for him. 
 
 After all this, 'tis no great wonder that between 
 two such Persons as these, there easily arose an in- 
 violable Friendship. But to continue our History;
 
 xvi THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. 
 
 his Lordship engag'd Mr. Locke to Dine with him 
 the next day, and to drink the Waters (as he himself 
 had partly design'd) that he might enjoy the more 
 of his Company. Leaving Oxford to go to Sunning- 
 Hill, where he drank the Waters, he made Mr. Locke 
 promise to go thither too* as he did in the Summer of 
 the Year 1667. and when His Lordship afterwards 
 went to London, he oblig'd him to promise that he 
 would take up his Lodgings for the future at his 
 House. Mr. Locke went thither, and tho' he never 
 practis'd Physick His Lordship was entirely guided 
 by his Advice in opening the Imposthume he had in 
 his Breast which sav'd his Life, though it never could 
 be clos'd again. 
 
 After this Cure His Lordship had so great an Es- 
 teem for Mr. Locke, that although he had experienced 
 his Skill in Physick, he ever after regarded it as the 
 least of his Accomplishments. He advis'd him to turn 
 his thoughts another way, and would not suffer him 
 to practice Physick out of the house to any but his 
 particular Friends. He would have had him rather 
 apply himself to the study of those Matters, that be- 
 long'd to the Church and State, and which might have 
 some relation to the business of a Minister of State: 
 And Mr. Locke succeeded so well in these Studies 
 that His Lordship began to consult him on all occa- 
 sions of that Nature. He not only took him into his 
 Library and his Closet, but brought him into the Com- 
 pany of the Duke of Buckingham, my Lord Halifax 
 and other Nobles, who were Men of Wit and Learn- 
 ing, and were pleas'd as much with his Conversation 
 as my Lord Ashley, for though Mr. Locke had a se- 
 
 * As appears by the Journal, publish'd by Mr. Boyle before men- 
 tion'd.
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE, xvii 
 
 rious Air and always spoke to these Lords in a modest 
 and respectful manner ; yet there was an agreeable 
 mixture of Wit in his Conversation. 
 
 The freedom which he us'd with Persons of this 
 Rank had somewhat which I can't express, that agreed 
 very well with his Character. One day three or four 
 of these Lords being met together at my Lord Ash- 
 ley's, rather for their Diversion than Business, after 
 the usual Complements were over, the Cards were 
 brought when little or no Discourse had passed be- 
 tween them. Mr. Locke took notice of the Game for 
 some time, and then taking out his Pocket-book, he 
 set himself to write somewhat with very great Serious- 
 ness, one of the Lords having observ'd it asks him 
 what it was that he was writing. My Lord, says he, 
 I endeavour to get as much as I can in your good 
 Company, and having waited with impatience the 
 Honour of being present at a Meeting of the wisest 
 and most ingenious men of the Age, and enjoying at 
 length this Happiness ; I thought it was best to write 
 your Conversation, and I have accordingly set down 
 the substance of what has been said within this hour 
 or two. There was no need for Mr. Locke to read 
 much of his Dialogue, these noble Lords perceiv'd 
 the banter, and diverted themselves a while with im- 
 proving the jest ; they left their play and enter 'd into 
 Conversation more agreeable to their Character and 
 so spent the rest of the day. 
 
 In 1668. The Earl and Countess of Northumber- 
 land having resolv'd to travel into France they desir'd 
 Mr. Locke to make one of their Company ; He readily 
 comply 'd with them and stayed in France with my 
 Lady Countess whilst the Earl went to Rome. This 
 noble Lord fell sick in the way and died, which
 
 xviii THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. 
 
 oblig'd his Lady to return sooner to England than 
 they had design'd at first. The Journey was without 
 doubt very pleasant to Mr. Locke, for this Lady was 
 every ways accomplish'd, she spar'd for no Expences, 
 and wherever she came, she had very great Honours 
 paid her. 
 
 Mr. Locke at his return into England Lodg'd, as 
 before, at my Lord Ashley's, who was Chancellour of 
 the Exchequer. However, he held his Place in the 
 Colledge of Christ-Church at Oxford* where he some- 
 times resided. Whilst he was at my Lord Ashley's, 
 His Lordship intrusted him with the remaining part 
 of the Education of his only Son, who was then but 
 about Fifteen or sixteen years old, which Charge he 
 carefully perform'd. This young Lord being of a 
 very weakly Constitution, his Father thought to marry 
 him betimes least the Family should be extinct by his 
 Death. He was too young, and had too little Ex- 
 perience to choose a Wife for himself; and my Lord 
 Ashley not having time to make choice of a suitable 
 Person for him, desir'd that Mr. Locke would under- 
 take it. This was no easie Province, for though His 
 Lordship did not insist upon a great Fortune for his 
 Son, yet he would have him marry a Lady of a good 
 Family, a sweet Temper, a fine Complexion, and above 
 all one that had a good Education, and whose Car- 
 riage was as different as possible from the Behaviour 
 of the Court and City Ladies. However Mr. Locke 
 took upon him such a nice Business ay this, and very 
 happily acquitted himself of it, for from this Mar- 
 riage sprung the present Earl of Shaftsbury with six 
 other Children all very healthful, though his Father 
 
 * See the aforesaid Journal, he kept the Changes of the Air at 
 Oxford, p. 116, & 202.
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. xix 
 
 was but weak, and died some years ago. As Mr. 
 Locke had the Care of great part of the Education 
 of this Lord, so he was intrusted with his eldest Son's 
 whom we had the Honour of seeing here in Holland, 
 and whose good Sence, Judgment, Fancy, Learning, 
 sweet and obliging Carriage, free from all formal and 
 affected Ceremonies, with a natural and easie Elo- 
 quence, plainly shew us that he was Educated by no 
 less excellent a Person than Mr. Locke, of which his 
 Lordship hath testified a grateful Sense on all occa- 
 sions, and always speaks of him with Signs of a 
 more than ordinary esteem. 
 
 In the Year 1670, and 1671. Mr. Locke began his 
 Essay concerning Humane Understanding, at the ear- 
 nest request of Mr. Tyrell, and Mr. Thomas and some 
 others of his Friends, who met sometimes in his Cham- 
 ber to converse together, as he himself hath told me. 
 But his Business and Travels hinder'd his finishing 
 it at that time. I don't know whether it was not about 
 this time that he was taken into the Royal Society of 
 London. 
 
 In the Year 1672. My Lord Ashley was created 
 Earl of Shaftsbury, and Lord High Chancellour of 
 England, and gave Mr. Locke the Office of Secretary 
 of the Presentation of Benefices; which he enjoy'd 
 till the end of the Year 1673. when His Lordship re- 
 turn'd the great Seal to the King. 
 
 Mr. Locke whom this great Man made Privy to his 
 most secret Affairs was joyn'd with him in his Dis- 
 grace, and afterwards gave his assistance to some 
 pieces, which His Lordship Publish'd to stir up the 
 English Nation, to have a watchful Eye over the Con- 
 duct of the Roman Catholicks, and to oppose the De- 
 signs of that Party.
 
 xx THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. 
 
 On this occasion. I can't pass over in silence a re- 
 markable thing which was transacted in the Parlia- 
 ment of England in 1672. It is well known, that at 
 that time King Charles the Second in Conjunction 
 with France, made War on the United Provinces : But 
 the Sums that were sent him from France not being 
 sufficient to carry on the War, He thought it necessary 
 to try what the Parliament would raise him. For this 
 purpose, there was a draught prepar'd in the King's 
 Council of the Speech, which the Lord Chancellour 
 was to make to the Parliament to perswade them to 
 approve of the War, w r hich that Prince had declar'd 
 against the Dutch. - But this appearing too weak to 
 the King and Council, as not pressing the Matter home 
 enough, they thought fit to alter it, and in spight of 
 the Lord Chancellour's Advice to insert these words 
 of Cato, Delenda est Carthago, intimating that it was 
 the Interest of England utterly to ruine Holland. This 
 being resolv'd, the Lord Chancellour must pronounce 
 the Speech as it was prepar'd, his Lordship show'd 
 a very great concern at this to Mr. Locke, and to an- 
 other of his Friends, who hath since declar'd it in 
 Writing: However the Lord Chancellour being look'd 
 upon as the Mouth of the King, and not speaking in 
 his own Name, and often contrary to his own par- 
 ticular Sentiments, his Lordship was oblig'd to get it 
 by Heart, and altho' he spake very fluently, and had 
 a great Presence of Mind, yet he was so much dis- 
 order'd that he would have Mr. Locke behind him 
 with the Speech in his hand, to prompt him if he 
 should be at a stand. This made a great noise in 
 Holland, and His Lordship was thought very ill of 
 by those who were ignorant of his own Sentiments, 
 and the Office of a Lord Chancellour. But this noble
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. xxi 
 
 Lord in a little time after perceiving the Mark that 
 the Court aim'd at, and the Duke of Buckingham 
 having shewn him, that not only the Duke of York, 
 but even the King was a Papist, (though he conceal'd 
 it by setting up for a Wit, and by appearing on all 
 occasions very indifferent as to Matters of Religion,) 
 he left the Court Party, who in vain tried all means 
 to keep him in their Interest ; His Lordship had so 
 great an aversion to Popery, Tyranny, and arbitrary 
 Power, that though he was in other things very mod- 
 erate, there was no moving of him in these Respects. 
 This is well known to all those who had the Honour 
 of being acquainted with him, or who have had his 
 Character from them. 
 
 However, the famous Sir William Temple in his 
 Memoirs speaks very much to his disadvantage, and 
 insinuates that he was one of the Authors of the War 
 against the United Provinces in 1672. But it must 
 be consider'd, that he had a private Picque against 
 my Lord Shaftsbury, because when His Lordship 
 was Chancellour of the Exchequer, he was against 
 the King's making him a Present of Plate, which he 
 desir'd at his Return from his Embassy, according 
 to a Custom that his Lordship thought was very 
 prejudicial to the King's Treasury ; and this is a suf- 
 ficient Reason, Why we should give but little credit 
 to what Sir William Temple says, with respect to my 
 Lord Shaftsbnry. But to return to Mr. Locke in 
 June 1673. He was made Secretary to the Commis- 
 sioners of Trade, which Office brought him in Five 
 hundred Pounds per Annum. But this Commission 
 expir'd in December 1674. 
 
 In the following Summer* 1675. My Lord Shafts- 
 
 * See the Journal above cited, p. 121.
 
 xxii THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. 
 
 bury thought it necessary for Mr. Locke to Travel, 
 because he was very much -inclin'd to the Phthisick, 
 and he went to Montpellier, where he staid a consider- 
 able time. There it was, that he came acquainted 
 with the Earl of Pembroke, who was then call'd Mr. 
 Herbert (the name of his Family) because his eldest 
 Brother was then living. He ever kept up his Friend- 
 ship with him, and afterwards Dedicated to him his 
 Essay concerning Humane Understanding, and I have 
 heard him speak of this Lord, as one for whom he 
 had a high Respect. From Montpellier he went to 
 Paris, where he got acquainted with Monsieur Justel, 
 at whose House the Learned generally met, and there 
 he saw Monsieur Guenelon the famous Physician of 
 Amsterdam, who used to Discourse there upon Anat- 
 omy with great Applause. Mr. Locke took down his 
 Name, and the Place of his abode at Amsterdam, and 
 his Friendship was very advantageous to him some 
 years after this, as we shall see in the Consequence. 
 He likewise entred into a particular Friendship with 
 Monsieur Toinard, who show'd him a Copy of his 
 Harmonia Evangelica, of which there were but Five 
 or six compleat, and which he has not yet Publish'd, 
 though he has been earnestly desir'd to do it. Mr. 
 Locke had applyed himself particularly to the study 
 of the New Testament, and we shall see hereafter 
 what were the Fruits of his Labours. 
 
 The Earl of Shaftsbury being reconcil'd to the Court, 
 (out of an honest Design of being as useful as he 
 could to his Country) was made President of the 
 Council in the Year 1679, which oblig'd him to desire 
 Mr. Lock's Return to London. He accordingly re- 
 turn'd thither; but not being wholly recover'd, and 
 finding himself afflicted with an Asthma he could not
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE, xxiii 
 
 tarry long at London; the Sea-coal that is burnt there 
 being so very offensive to him. He was oblig'd from 
 time to time, to pass some weeks in the Country, that 
 he might breath in a pure Air, free from the smoke of 
 the Coals which is so troublesome at London, and 
 sometimes he went to Oxford, where he still kept his 
 Place in Christ-Church Colledge. 
 
 The Earl of Shaftsbury (as I have said,) having 
 again taken his Place in the Council, for the good 
 of the English Nation, rather than to carry on the 
 Designs of the Court, which aim'd at the Establish- 
 ment of Popery and Arbitrary Power, fresh Crimes 
 were soon laid to his Charge, and the King sent him 
 to the Tower. But he was acquitted, in spight of 
 the Intreagues of the Court, and in December 1682. 
 he retir'd into Holland. The late King, who was 
 then Prince of Orange; knowing that His Lordship's 
 only Crime was, that he oppos'd the Designs of the 
 Court, he was receiv'd very kindly in Holland, and he 
 made himself a Burgher of Amsterdam, lest the King 
 should send to demand him of the States, which by 
 a Treaty is oblig'd to deliver Traytors to the Crown 
 of England, if they are not made Burghers of any 
 Town in Holland, and England is oblig'd to do the 
 same with respect to the States. 
 
 Mr. Locke did not think himself any longer safe in 
 England; for though they could not hurt him accord- 
 ing to a due form of Law, yet'twas possible they might 
 clap him up in Prison, and let him lie there some time 
 to the endangering his Health and Life; so he fol- 
 low'd His Lordship, who died soon after in Holland. 
 It is an Honour to this Province, and to the Town of 
 Amsterdam in particular, that it entertain'd and pro- 
 tected so illustrious a Refugee, without regarding
 
 xxiv THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. 
 
 those former Prejudices, which it had receiv'd against 
 him on the account of the Speech, which he deliver'd 
 as Lord Chancellour to the Parliament in the Year 
 1672. A grateful Sence of this is retain'd in the 
 Family, as the present Earl of Shaftsbury his Grand- 
 son hath often told me. May this Town ever remain 
 a safe Sanctuary to the Innocent, and by it's generous 
 Carriage draw down upon it's self the Praises and 
 Blessings of all those who are Lovers of Virtue, not 
 only in it's Prosperity, but even when it suffers the 
 sharpest Persecutions. 
 
 Mr. Locke, being at Amsterdam about the end of 
 the Year 1683. renew'd the acquaintance, he began at 
 Paris with Monsieur Guenelon, and got acquainted 
 with his Father-in-Law Monsieur Veen, Senior Physi- 
 cian of this City, and one of its most skilful and 
 fortunate Practitioners. In January 1684. Monsieur 
 Guenelon being to dissect a Lioness, that died of the 
 excessive cold. that Winter. Mr. Locke came thither, 
 and became acquainted with several other Physicians. 
 Here he met with Monsieur Limbroch, Professor of 
 Divinity among the Remonstrants, with whom he con- 
 tracted a Friendship, that continu'd during the whole 
 Course of his Life, and which he cultivated after his 
 Return into England. I had the Honour also to be 
 acquainted with him some time after, and have spent 
 several hours with Pleasure and Profit in his Com- 
 pany ; especially, after he told me his Mind in Philo- 
 sophical Matters, which has been the Subject of many 
 an hours Conversation. Having his Health better in 
 Holland, than either in England or at Montpellier: 
 He there carried on, and compleated his Essay con- 
 cerning Humane Understanding, of which he shew'd 
 me several Chapters in Manuscript.
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE, xxv 
 
 Mr. Locke had not been a year out of England, be- 
 fore he was accus'd at Court of writing several Pam- 
 phlets against the Government, which were said to 
 come from Holland. But afterwards were found to 
 be done by other hands ; for this Reason, as was re- 
 ported, the King sent Order to Mr. Fell, then Bishop 
 of Oxford, and Dean of Christ-Church to turn Mr. 
 Locke out of his Fellowship in the Colledge. The 
 Bishop, who was a virtuous and Learned man, and al- 
 ways had a respect and kindness for Mr. Locke, re- 
 ceiv'd the Message with a great deal of uneasiness, 
 as may be seen by his Actions. He immediately sends 
 for Mr. Tyrell, Mr. Lock's Friend to speak with him, 
 and was so convinced of Mr. Lock's Innocence, that 
 instead of executing the Order, he wrote to him the 
 8th of November, to appear and answer for himself 
 the ist of January of the ensuing Year. In the mean 
 time he acquaints my Lord Sunderland, then Secretary 
 of State with what he had done in these Terms, from 
 which we may learn much of Mr. Lock's Character. 
 Mr. Locke being a great Friend of the late Earl of 
 Shaftsbury, and being suspected not to be -well af- 
 fected to the Government, I have had my Eye over 
 him for several years, but he has always been so much 
 upon his Guard, that after several strict Enquiries I 
 can confidently assure you, there is no Person in our 
 Colledge, how familiar soever he has been with him, 
 that has heard him say any thing against the Govern- 
 ment, or that any ways concerns it; and tho' we have 
 often designedly, given him occasion in publick and 
 private Discourse to talk of the Earl of Shaftsbury, by 
 speaking ill of him, his Party and Designs, yet we 
 could never see either by his Words or Looks, that he 
 thought himself at all concern 'd in the Matter; so that
 
 xxvi THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. 
 
 we believe, there is not a Man in the World so much 
 Master of his Tongue and Passions as he is. 
 
 This is the more to be admir'd ; because Mr. Locke 
 was naturally a little hasty. But perceiving their De- 
 signs to trepan him he oblig'd himself to be silent. 
 He might easily see that to defend His Lordship be- 
 fore them, could do him no Service, and would bring 
 himself into Trouble. 
 
 Dr. Fell in what he wrote, without doubt design'd 
 to serve Mr. Locke ; but the King sending a second 
 Letter he was forced to take away his Fellowship of 
 Christ-Church Colledge at Oxford. 
 
 After the Death of Charles the Second (which was 
 on the 6th of February 1685.) Mr. Penn, whom Mr. 
 Locke had known at the University, and who very 
 generously imploy'd that Interest he had in King 
 James, endeavour'd to procure his Pardon, and had 
 certainly obtain'd it ; if Mr. Locke had not answerd, 
 that he had no occasion for a Pardon, having been 
 guilty of no Crime. 
 
 In the Spring of the Year 1685. The Duke of 
 Monmouth was in Holland, and several other Gentle- 
 men, and Nobles with him, disaffected to King James's 
 Government, making Preparations for his unfortunate 
 Enterprize. King James being inform'd of their De- 
 signs sent to Mr. Skelton, his Envoy at the Hague, 
 the 1 7th of May, to demand of the States Fourscore 
 and four Persons, and amongst them Mr. Locke, whom 
 they had thus describ'd formerly Secretary to the Earl 
 of Shaftsbury, altho' he never had that Business or 
 Title in his Lordships House, but liv'd there as a 
 Friend: His Name was the last in the List, and, as 
 I remember, 'twas said, he was not in the List that 
 came from England, but that the English Consul, that
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE, xxvii 
 
 was then in Holland, order'd it to be added to the rest. 
 However, I believe one may rest satisfy'd, that he had 
 no Correspondence with the Duke of Monmouth, of 
 whom he had not such high Thoughts, as to expect 
 anything from his Undertaking; besides he was of 
 a peaceable Temper, and rather fearful than coura- 
 gious. 
 
 Abut the end of the Year 1684, he was at Utrecht, 
 and the next Spring went to Amsterdam, with design 
 to return to Utrecht, as he did afterwards, not imagin- 
 ing he should be esteenrd an Accomplice of the Duke 
 of Monmouth : He had formerly had a desire to lodge 
 with Mr. Guenelon, but he excus'd himself, because it 
 was not the Custom of their City to give Lodgings to 
 Strangers, tho' otherwise he had a great esteem for 
 him, and was very well pleas'd with his Visits. But 
 when Mr. Guenelon saw his danger, and that it was 
 Time to do him a kindness, he generously engag'd 
 his Father in Law Mr. Veen to entertain him in his 
 House, and wrote to Utrecht to advertise him of it, 
 as did Mr. Limborch on the part of Mr. Veen. Mr. 
 Locke on this came to Amsterdam, and conceal'd him- 
 self at Mr. Veen's two or three Months; and in the 
 mean time, Mr. Limborch convey'd the Letters that 
 were wrote to him, and kept Mr. Lock's Will, which 
 he desir'd him to send to one of his Relations, whom 
 he named, if he should Die. In the mean Time, they 
 consulted one of the chief Magistrates of the Town, 
 to know if he might be safe there ; who replied, that 
 he could not protect him, if the King of England sent 
 for him, but that he would not deliver him, and would 
 not fail to give notice of it to Mr. Veen. 
 
 This did a little compose his mind, and he stay'd 
 with Mr. Veen till September, going out only in the
 
 xxviii THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. 
 
 Nights to prevent being discover'd : But being per- 
 swaded to go rather to Cleves, he went thither, but 
 came back the beginning of November. 'Twas at 
 Mr. Veen's that he compos'd his Latin Letter of Tole- 
 ration, which was Printed at Tergou in 1689. and en- 
 tituled, Epistola de Tolerantia ad Clarissimum rirum, 
 T. A. R. P. T. O. L. A. scripta. a. P. A. P. O. I. L. A. 
 The first Letters signifie, Theologies apud Remon- 
 strantes Professorem, Tyrannydis osorem Limburginm 
 Amstelodamensem; and the Latter, Pads amico, Per- 
 seqnutionis osore, Joanne Lockio Anglo. This little 
 Book was Translated into English, and Printed twice 
 at London in the Year 1690. It was abridg'd in the 
 fifteenth Tome of the Bibliotheque Unirerselle, Article 
 the Fourteenth. About this Time, it was also that 
 Mr. Locke read and approv'd of several Pieces of 
 Episcopius; (for till then he knew the Remonstrants 
 only by hear-say, and a little Conversation he had with 
 them here) and was surprized to find their Sentiments 
 nearer to his own than he imagin'd, and afterwards 
 made great use of the Light that he receiv'd from 
 them. 
 
 At the end of the Year, Mr. Locke went to lodge 
 at Mr. Guenelon's, where he was likewise the Year 
 following. 
 
 It being evident to all, that he had no Hand in the 
 Enterprize of the Duke of Monmouth, he began to 
 appear again in Publick in the Year 1686. and then 
 gave me the *Nouvelle Methode de dresser des Re- 
 cueils, which is in the Second Tome of the Biblio- 
 theque Universelle. He made me likewise several Ex- 
 tracts of Books, as that of Mr. Boyle concerning spe- 
 fifique Remedies, which is in the same Tome, and 
 
 * A new Method of making Common-place Books.
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE, xxix 
 
 some others that are in the following. I sent him 
 some Copies of his Methode to Utrecht, (whither he 
 went in Autumn) which I had printed by themselves, 
 and he order'd me to send some to Mr. Toinard, to 
 whom it was dedicated tho' his Name was not set be- 
 fore it. 
 
 At the end of the Year Mr. Locke return'd to 
 Amsterdam, and took up his Lodgings at Mr. Guene- 
 lon's, his old Quarters. 
 
 In 1687. he desir'd that Mr. Limborch, and I, and 
 some other Friends would set up Conferences, and that 
 to this end we should meet together once in a Week, 
 sometimes at one House and then at another, by turns ; 
 and that there should be some Question propos'd, of 
 which every one should give his Opinion at the next 
 Meeting, and I have still by me the Rules, which he 
 would have us observe written in Latin by his 
 own Hand. But our Conferences were interrupted by 
 his Absence, because he went to Rotterdam, where he 
 lodg'd with Mr. Furly, he return'd again to Amster- 
 dam, tho' it was but for a little Time. 
 
 Towards the Latter End of this Year he made an 
 Abridgment, in English, of his Essay concerning Hu- 
 mane Understanding, which was then in Manuscript. 
 I translated it into French, and Publish'd it in the 
 eight Tome of the Bibliotheque Universelle in Jan- 
 uary 1688. and I had some Copies of it Printed by 
 themselves, to which he added a short Dedication to 
 the Earl of Pembroke. This Abridgment pleas'd a 
 great many Persons, and made them desirous of see- 
 ing the Work intire ; but several who had never heard 
 of the Name of Mr. Locke, and who had only seen the 
 Abridgment in the Bibliotheque Universelle, thought 
 that it was a Project of a Work which was but ye<
 
 xxx THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. 
 
 design'd, and that I Father'd it upon an English Man, 
 to know what the World thought of it, but they were 
 soon undeceiv'd. 
 
 At length the Happy Revolution in England at the 
 end of the Year 1688. and the beginning of 1689. by 
 the Courage and good Conduct of the Prince of 
 Orange, open'd a way to his return into his own 
 Country, and he went thither in February 1689. with 
 the same Fleet that Conducted over the Princess of 
 Orange. At London he endeavour'd to recover his 
 right of Fellow of Christ-Church Colledge in Oxford, 
 not that he had any design of living there, but only 
 that the World might see the wrong that was done 
 him. This would have been granted him but since 
 the Members of that Society could not come to a 
 Resolution of turning out him that was put in his 
 Place, and they would have kept him as a Super- 
 numerary, he withdrew his Suit. 
 
 Mr. Locke being very much taken Notice of, and 
 esteem'd by several Noblemen, that were after the 
 Revolution in Favour with the Court, he might very 
 easily have got into some considerable Office: But 
 he contented himself with being of one of the Com- 
 missioners of Appeals, which brought him in Two 
 Hundred Pounds per Annum, and which suited him, 
 because it did not require a constant Attendance. This 
 Office is at the disposal of the Lords of the Treasury 
 and the Lord Mordaunt, who was one of them, and 
 who was since created Earl of Monmouth and then of 
 Peterborough, desiring it for him, the other Lords 
 agreed to it. About the same Time, Mr. Locke had 
 the offer of a publick Character, and it was put to 
 his Choice, whether he would go as Envoy either to 
 the Emperor, or to the Elector of Brandebourg, or any
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE, xxxi 
 
 other Court, where he thought the Air might agree 
 best with his Health which was very unsettled; but 
 fearing least the Service of the King might suffer, 
 if the Air of the Place did not agree with him, or that 
 it would endanger his Life, unless he made a speedy 
 return, he refus'd an Office of this Nature. 
 
 However he improv'd his time another way, for 
 a Divine Writing against his first Letter concerning 
 Toleration ; he answer'd him in 1690. by a second 
 Letter, which is abridg'd in the nineteenth Tome of 
 the Bibliotheque Universelle. Article the second. He 
 did not set his Name to it, that he might not be en- 
 gag'd in any personal Quarrels, which might possibly 
 have turn'd to his disadvantage, without serving any 
 ways to the advancement of Truth. But the Style of 
 it plainly shew'd the Author. It was in the same 
 Year likewise, that the first Edition of his Essay con- 
 cerning Humane Understanding was Printed in Eng- 
 lish in Folio; it has since had three Editions in the 
 same Language, in 1694, 1697, and in 1700. This 
 last year it was Publish'd in French at Amsterdam, 
 by H. Schelte, Mr. Coste, who was then in the same 
 House with the Author, translated it under his in- 
 spection with very great Care, Fidelity and Plainness ; 
 and this Version is very much esteem'd. It hath made 
 known his Opinions to those that are on this side of 
 the water, and more at large, than the Abridgment 
 that was Publish'd in 1688. could do. The Author 
 being present, he corrected several places in the Orig- 
 inal, that he might make them more plain and easie to 
 translate, and very carefully revis'd the Translation; 
 so that it is not in the least inferiour to the English, 
 and often more clear; this Book was likewise trans- 
 lated into Latin by Mr. Burridge in 1701. there is
 
 xxxii THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. 
 
 besides a small Abridgment of it in English, by Mr. 
 Wynne. The fourth English Edition is the best and 
 most enlarg'd. Those who have compar'd it with 
 the former, may have observ'd in it, that sincerity 
 and that Love to Truth, which the Author discovers 
 in the Twenty first Chapter of the second Book, where 
 he treats concerning Power ; for he has made several 
 Alterations in the Idea, that he had given of the 
 manner, wherein we are determin'd to Will. Few 
 Philosophers can perswade themselves to correct their 
 Thoughts, and there is nothing they will not do rather 
 than confess their Mistakes. But Mr. Locke had too 
 great a Love for Truth to follow their Example, and 
 he himself acknowledges in his Preface ; that after 
 a more near Examination of the Matter, he saw rea- 
 son to alter his Opinion. 
 
 He Publish'd likewise the same year his two Treat- 
 ises of Government, which are spoken of in the nine- 
 teenth Tome of the Bibliotheque Universelle. Article 
 the Eight ; this Book was afterwards translated into 
 French, and Printed at Amsterdam, and has been re- 
 printed in English, in 1694, and 1698. We shall in 
 a little time see another English Edition of it, much 
 more correct than the former, as well as a better 
 French Version. Mr. Locke did not put his Name 
 to it, because the Principles which he there establishes, 
 are contrary to those, which were generally taught in 
 England before the Revolution, and which tended to 
 establish an arbitrary Power that was not restrain'd 
 by any Laws. He entirely overthrew these Turkish 
 Politicks, which some Persons preach'd up as an Ar- 
 ticle of Religion, to flatter those that aspir'd to a 
 Power, which is above Humane Nature. 
 
 Mr. Locke liv'd at London about two years after
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE, xxxiii 
 
 the Revolution, esteem'd by all those that knew him, 
 he convers'd familiarly with Persons of the highest 
 Rank ; but nothing pleas'd him more than the weekly 
 Conferences, that he had with the Earl of Pembroke, 
 who was then Lord Keeper of the Privy Zeal, and who 
 has since been made President of the Privy Council, 
 which Post he now holds with general Approbation 
 under her present Majesty. When the Air of Lon- 
 don began to affect his Lungs, he went for some 
 days to a Seat, that the Earl of Peterborough had 
 a little out of Town, where he always met with a 
 hearty Welcome, but he was oblig'd afterwards to 
 think of quite leaving London, at least all the Winter 
 Season, and to go to some place at a greater distance. 
 He had made some Visits at different times to Sir 
 Francis Masham, who liv'd at Oates a little more than 
 20 Miles from London, where he found the Air so 
 good, that he thought there was none could suit better 
 with his Constitution ; besides the agreeable Company 
 that he found at Sir Francis Masham's, which would 
 beautifie the most melancholy place, was one great 
 Motive no doubt, to incline him to desire that Gentle- 
 man to receive him into his Family, that he might 
 settle there and expect his Death ; in applying himself 
 to his Studies, as much as his weak Health would 
 allow. He was receiv'd on his own Terms, that he 
 might have his entire Liberty there, and look upon 
 himself as at his own House ; and it was in this pleas- 
 ant Society that he pass'd the rest of his Life, and 
 from which he was absent as little as possible, be- 
 cause the Air of London grew more and more trouble- 
 some to him ; he went thither only in the Summer for 
 Three or four Months, and if he return'd to Oates
 
 xxxiv THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. 
 
 any thing indispos'd, the Air of the Country soon 
 recover'd him. 
 
 In 1692. he put out his Third Letter of Toleration, 
 in which he answer'd some new Objections, that had 
 been made against his Opinions with so great strength 
 and accuracy, as made it needless for him to write 
 any thing farther on that Subject: And here I can't 
 but take notice of the strange and unaccountable Tem- 
 per of some Men, who though they are fully convinc'd, 
 that their clear and distinct knowledge, is of very small 
 Extent, and that they are very easily mistaken in the 
 Judgments they pass of things, will yet when it is 
 in their Power persecute others, because they differ 
 from them in their Notions, and this at the same time 
 that they would think it very hard if they were on 
 the weaker side, to be persecuted on this account them- 
 selves ; but it is yet more strange that they should 
 interest Religion in the case, and imploy it's Au- 
 thority to defend those Practices which it expressly 
 forbids. This can only proceed from a proud and 
 tyrannical Spirit, which passes upon the World under 
 the disguise of Piety, almost after the same manner, 
 as the Itch after arbitrary Power, conceals it self under 
 the specious Pretext of the publick Good, how con- 
 trary soever it may be to it. . 
 
 But this is no proper place to bewail these Irregu- 
 larities of the mind of Man ; the English Nation how- 
 ever is highly oblig'd to Mr. Locke, for having un- 
 deceiv'd a great many Persons, and made them detest 
 those persecuting Maxims, which for want of due 
 Consideration they had embrac'd. 'Tis well known, 
 that about this time the Coin of England was very 
 bad, having been so much clip'd through the negli- 
 gence of the proceeding Reigns, who had not taken
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE, xxxv 
 
 Care to remedy it, that it wanted above a Third it's 
 due Weight. The effect of this was that the People 
 thought themselves a great deal Richer, than indeed 
 they were ; For although the Coin was not raised in 
 it's value by any publick Authority, it was put off in 
 Trade for above a third part more than it weigh'd. 
 This was very prejudicial to Trade on several Ac- 
 counts, of which I shall not here take any notice. 
 
 Mr. Locke had observed this disorder ever since 
 his Return to England, and he frequently spoke of it, 
 that he might put the Nation upon taking some mea- 
 sures to prevent it. He said then, That the Nation was 
 in greater Danger from a secret unobserv'd abuse, than 
 from all those other Evils, of which Persons were gen- 
 erally so apprehensive; and that if Care were not taken 
 to rectifie the Coin, that Irregularity alone wou'd prove 
 fatal to us, though zve shou'd succeed in everything 
 else. One day when he seem'd very much disturbed 
 about this Matter, some Persons rally'd him, as if he 
 tormented himself with a groundless Fear; he an- 
 swer'd, That Persons might laugh if they pleas'd, but 
 they wou'd find in a very short time that if Care was 
 not taken, we shou'd want Money in England to buy 
 Bread. And it happen'd accordingly in 1695. So that 
 the Parliament were forced to rectifie that abuse the 
 beginning of the following Year. In order to stir up 
 the English Nation, to take this Matter into Consid- 
 eration Mr. Locke Publish'd in 1692. a little Treatise 
 entituled, Some Considerations of the Consequences 
 of the Lowering of the Interest, and Raising the 
 value of Money, which was sent to a Member of Par- 
 liament 1691. In which we may find several nice and 
 curious Observations on both those Subjects, as well as 
 the Trade of England in general. Afterwards in 1695.
 
 xxxvi THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. 
 
 He took this Subject in hand again; when, according to 
 his Prediction the Nations danger obliged the Parlia- 
 ment, to think seriously of this Matter. By this it 
 appears, that he was able to reason on the common Af- 
 fairs of Life, as well as on the most abstracted Sub- 
 jects ; and that he was none of those Philosophers, 
 who spend their whole Lives in the search after Truths 
 purely Speculative, but by their Ignorance of those 
 things which concern the publick Good, are rendred 
 incapable of serving their Country. 
 
 In 1693. He Publish 'd his Thoughts concerning the 
 Education of Children, to which he added several 
 things in two other Editions, he put out of it in 1694, 
 and 1698. this Book was also translated into French 
 and Dutch in Holland; and although there are many 
 things in it, that respect the Faults peculiar to the 
 English way of educating Children, yet it contains 
 several Remarks that may be useful to other Nations. 
 
 In 1695. Mr. Locke was made a Commissioner of 
 the Trade and Plantations, these Commissioners com- 
 pose a Council, that takes Care of every thing relating 
 to the English Trade and Plantations ; and have every 
 one a Salary of a Thousand pounds a year. He dis- 
 charged the Duties of this place with a great deal of 
 Care, and universal Approbation, till the Year 1700, 
 in which he quitted it, being no longer able to live 
 in London as he did before. He acquainted no Person 
 with his Design of leaving that place, 'till he had given 
 up his Commission into the King's hands. His Maj- 
 esty was very unwilling to receive it, and told Mr. 
 Locke he shou'd be very glad if he wou'd continue 
 in his Service, tho' he gave never so little Attendance, 
 and that he did not desire him to stay in Town one 
 day, to the prejudice of his Health. But he told his
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE, xxxvii 
 
 Majesty, That he cou'd not in Conscience hold a place, 
 to which a considerable Salary was annexed, without 
 performing the Duties of it, and that he did therefore 
 humbly desire a Discharge. A great many Persons 
 would not have been so scrupulous in this Matter as 
 he was, but wou'd have accepted the King's Grant, or 
 at least wou'd have endeavour'd to resign such a place 
 as this to their advantage. 
 
 And indeed he deserved to enjoy the Salary belong- 
 ing to that place, even though he should have per- 
 formed none of its Duties ; if it were only on the Ac- 
 count of being one of those,who took the greatest Pains 
 to convince the Parliament, that the only way to pre- 
 serve the Trade of England, was to new Mint the Mony 
 without raising its Value to the Publick Loss; for 
 this end he wrote a little Treatise, containing New 
 Considerations on the raising the Vahie of Coin, which 
 he publish'd in 1695. This Treatise together with sev- 
 eral others were Reprinted in the Year after, with the 
 Title of Papers concerning Mony, Interest, and Trade. 
 The Parliament following his Opinion in this Matter, 
 made in the midst of a dangerous War, such a Refor- 
 mation in the Coin, as many Nations wou'd have 
 hardly undertaken in a Time of Peace. 'Tis well 
 known, that there are some Kingdoms, wherein to fill 
 the Princes Treasury out of the Pockets of private 
 Persons, the Mony is made to rise or fall without any 
 regard to the loss the Publick sustains thereby: But 
 such Maxims are not approved of in England. 
 
 In the same Year 1695. Mr. Locke put out his Book 
 of the Reasonableness of Christianity; 'wherein he 
 shows, that the Christian Religion as deliver'd in the 
 Scriptures, is the most reasonable Institution in the 
 World : We have acquainted the Publick with the
 
 xxxviii THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. 
 
 design of this Book, in the 2d Tome of this Biblio- 
 theque Choisie, Art. 8. it was quickly after Translated 
 into French and Dutch, and attack'd in England by 
 a passionate Divine. In 1696. the Author answer'd 
 that Book, and after defended his Answer with such 
 Strength of Reason, and yet with so great Modera- 
 tion, that he might justly have expected of his Ad- 
 versary a publick Acknowledgement of his Error, had 
 he not been one of that sort of Men, who are equally 
 Strangers to Shame and Justice. Mr. Locke was also 
 obliged to Mr. Bold Minister of Steeple in Dorset- 
 shire, who defended his Book without knowing the 
 Author, in two short Discourses that came out in 
 1697, as also in a Second Answer of which we have 
 spoken, in the 2d Tome of this Bibliotheque Choisie. 
 Art. 8. 
 
 Some time before this, there came out a Book at 
 London, intitled, Christianity not Mysterious; in which 
 the Author pretended to prove, that there is nothing 
 in the Christian Religion, not only -which, is contrary 
 to Reason, but even which is above it. This Author 
 in explaining the Nature of Reason, had made use of 
 several Reasonings, that were very like to some Mr. 
 Locke imploys in his Treatise of Humane Under- 
 standing. 
 
 It happen'd also, that some English Unitarians had 
 about that time Publish'd several little Books, in which 
 they talked very much about Reason, and laid down 
 their Notions of what was contrary to it, and affirm'd 
 there was no such Doctrine in the Christian Religion. 
 Mr. Locke had also with a great deal of Truth as- 
 serted, that Revelation delivers nothing contrary to 
 any plain Consequences of Reason. All these Things 
 put together, engaged Dr. StillmgHeet the late Bishop
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE, xxxix 
 
 of Worcester, to join Mr. Locke in Company with 
 those Persons in a Book he put out in 1697. Wherein 
 he defends the Doctrine of the Trinity against them.* 
 In this Book he opposed some Notions of Mr. Locke 
 concerning the Knowledge we have of Substances, 
 and some other Things, fearing, without Reason, that 
 those Notions might be brought in favour of some 
 Heretical Opinions ; Mr. Locke answer'd him, and the 
 Bishop reply'd the same Year. This Reply was con- 
 futed by a Second Letter of Mr. Locke, which drew 
 a Second Answer from that Learned Bishop in 1698. 
 and Mr. Locke answer'd that in a Third Letter in 
 1699. wherein he discoursed more at large, of the 
 Certainty by Reason or by Ideas, of the Certainty of 
 Faith, of the Resurrection of the same Body, and the 
 Immateriality of the Soul, and show'd the perfect 
 Agreement of his Principles with Faith, and that they 
 had not the least tendency to Scepticism as Dr. Stil- 
 lingfleet had affirm'd. But the Bishop dy'd sometime 
 after this, and so the Dispute ended. 
 
 We may observe Two Things more especially in 
 this Dispute, the one relating to the Subject of it, the 
 other to the Manner wherein that was handled. Every 
 Body admired the Strength of Mr. Lock's reasonings, 
 and his great clearness and exactness not only in ex- 
 plaining his own Notions, but in laying open those of 
 his Adversary. Nor were they less surprized, that a 
 Man of the Bishops Learning shou'd ingage in a 
 Controversie, wherein he had all the disadvantages 
 possible, for he was by no means able to maintain 
 his Opinions against Mr. Locke, whose Notions he 
 neither understood, nor the Thing it self about which 
 he Disputed. This famous Prelate had spent the 
 
 * Chap. 10.
 
 xl THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. 
 
 greatest Part of his time in the Study of Ecclesiastical 
 Antiquities, and reading an infinite number of Books, 
 but was no great Philosopher, and had never used 
 himself to that close Correct way of Thinking and 
 Writing in which Mr. Locke did particularly excel. 
 However this excellent Philosopher, tho' he had much 
 the better in the Controversie, and had Reason enough 
 to complain of the Bishop for having charged him un- 
 justly, and without a sufficient acquaintance with the 
 Subject he handled, was yet very far from abusing 
 the Advantages he had, but always detected and re- 
 futed his Errors with civility and respect. He shews, 
 'tis true, that the Bishop did not understand the Things 
 he. talk'd about, and was very uncorrect in his Ex- 
 pressions, but he do's rather seem to insinuate it, by 
 producing his own Words and leaving the World to 
 judge, than reflect on him for it. For my Part, I 
 confess, I never read a Dispute managed in so cool 
 Blood, or with so much Art and Exactness on the 
 one side, nor on the other, so unjustly, confusedly, 
 or so little to the Credit of the Author. 
 
 I was also surprized at the Bishops Censure of *Mr. 
 de Courcelles; in the 6th Chapter of his Defence of 
 the Trinity, and wonder'd how he cou'd think so easily 
 to Answer him. I must confess indeed, that the 
 Bishop has Reason in asserting, that St. Hilary in 
 the f Passage Mr. de Courcelles cites out of his Book, 
 de Synodis, do's speak to the Eastern Bishops, and 
 not to those of Gaul and Germany as he thought. 
 But then it must also be granted, that in the main 
 Mr. de Courcelles has in his Dissertation concerning 
 the Words Trinity, &c. very faithfully represented 
 
 * Curcelleus. 
 
 f Num. 8 1. Edit. Benedict.
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. xli 
 
 the Opinion of St. Hilary. Dr. Stillingneet had either 
 read this Book without due Attention, or forgot its 
 Contents, for of all other Books, this do's most clearly 
 prove, that the Orthodox of that Time believ'd, that 
 the Divine Nature as a Species did contain under it 
 Three Persons numerically distinguisht. 
 
 St. Hilary a little before the * Passage that gave Dr. 
 Stillingneet occasion to charge Mr. de Courcelles with 
 a gross Mistake, explains how according to the Semi 
 Arians; it might be said that the Father and Son have 
 a like Essence? And then delivers his own Opinion 
 in the following Words. "Caret igitur, Fratres, simili- 
 tude Naturae contumelise suspicione ; nee potest videri 
 Filius idcirco in proprietate Paternae Naturae non esse 
 quia similis est, cum similitude nulla sit nisi ex aequali- 
 tate Naturae ; aequalitas autem Naturae non potest esse, 
 nisi una sit ; una vero non Personae Unitate, sed GE- 
 NERIS. That is, Therefore Brethren, the Son may 
 without Danger of Blasphemy, be said to be of a like 
 Nature with the Father, and tho' he be said to be like 
 him, it do's not follow that therefore he is not of the 
 same Nature, for Similitude Hows from Equality of 
 Nature, now there can be no Equality of Nature, but 
 where the Nature is one, and that not with a Personal, 
 but Generical Unity. Now a Person who reads this 
 with any tolerable degree of Attention, will easily 
 see, that supposing the Unity of the Divine Nature 
 to be Numerical, 'tis Nonsense to say the Nature of 
 the Son is equal or like to that of the Father ; but 
 that this way of Expression is proper enough in the 
 Mouth of those Persons, who believe the Father and 
 
 * Num 76. Ejusd. Edit. 
 
 t By Personae we must understand a Substance, and not a Mode, 
 which is called Personality.
 
 xlii THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. 
 
 Son are one in Specie or gencrically as St. Hilary 
 speaks. See also the I5th Article in the Bened. Edi- 
 tion. The same Thing might be plainly proved out 
 of his Books of the Trinity. If Dr. Stillingneet had 
 examin'd St. Hilary only, carefully and without Preju- 
 dice, he wou'd have been of the same mind with Mr. 
 de Courcelles, and wou'd never have differ'd with 
 him about a trifling incident, while in the main of 
 the Controversie, he gives a very true Account of the 
 Doctrine of the Fathers in this Point. I shall say 
 no more on this Head, and I hope no Person will be 
 offended at this little Digression I have made, to de- 
 fend at once the Truth and Honour of Mr. de Cour- 
 celles, who was my Grandmothers Brother, against 
 the Learned Dr. StiUingfleet, for whose excellent 
 Writings I nevertheless have an high Esteem. 
 
 But to return to Mr. Locke, 'tis very strange he 
 shou'd be able to write so much at so great an Age, 
 and when besides his Health was so infirm, by reason 
 of the Indisposition of his Lungs. In 1697. he was 
 obliged to go to London in very cold Weather, because 
 the King desired to see him. And that Journey made 
 his Lungs much worse, than ever they had been be- 
 fore. He was so bad, that for three or four Days, 
 while he was in London, he cou'd not lie down ; and 
 I remember, that in a Letter I receiv'd from him, 
 he told me he was reduced to a perfect *Orthopncca. 
 
 He returned to Oates in so weak a Condition, that 
 he never" recover'd his former health. He said that 
 his Majesty (who was also Asthmatick) having heard 
 of his skill in Physick, desired to Discourse with him 
 about his own Indisposition. And I remember I 
 
 * A difficulty of breathing, when a Man can't fetch his breath, but 
 holding his Neck upright.
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. xliii 
 
 heard, a little while after, that Mr. Locke had advised 
 the King to abstain from Wine, and all Foods that 
 were heavy and clogging. But however, the King 
 kept to his usual Manner of Living; tho' he signify 'd 
 to some of those who were near his Person, that he 
 had a high Esteem for Mr. Locke. 
 
 Some Years before his Death, he apply'd himself 
 intirely to the Study of the Holy Scriptures, and found 
 GO much Pleasure therein, that he was very much 
 troubled he had apply'd his Mind to that Study no 
 sooner. The World has seen the Fruits of these 
 Studies in his Reasonableness of Christianity, of which 
 we have already spoken, and which is one of the best 
 Pieces that have been Publish'd these many years, on 
 that Subject, and with that Design. There is also, 
 lately come out a Paraphrase of his on the Epistle to 
 the Galatians, of which we shall give some account 
 in another Tome of this Bibliotheque Choisie; as also 
 cf those he has written on the Epistle to the Romans, 
 Corinthians, and Ephesians, when they shall be Pub- 
 lish'd. 
 
 Above a year before his Death, he grew so very 
 v/eak that he cou'd not apply himself closely to any 
 thing, nor so much as write a Letter to a Friend with- 
 out great Difficulty. Before he had always made use 
 of his own hand for whatever he had to write, and so 
 having not been used to Dictate, he could not employ 
 an Amanuensis to ease himself. But though his Body 
 grew weaker, he still kept his good Humour, and if 
 his Lungs wou'd have permitted him to speak, his 
 Conversation wou'd have been as pleasant and enter- 
 taining as ever. A few weeks before his Death, he 
 perceiv'd he shou'd not live long, but yet he continued 
 as chearful and pleasant as before ; and when some
 
 xliv THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. 
 
 Persons seemed to wonder at it, he would say,*lVhile 
 we are alive let us lire. 
 
 This study of the Holy Scriptures wrought in him 
 a lively and sincere, though unaffected Piety. Hav- 
 ing not been able to go to Church for a considerable 
 time ; he thought convenient, some Months before he 
 dy'd, to receive the blessed Sacrament at home accord- 
 ing to a usual Practice of the Church of England; and 
 two of his Friends communicated with him. When 
 the Minister had performed his Office, Mr. Locke told 
 him, That he was in perfect Charity with all Men, and 
 in a sincere Communion with the Church of Christ, by 
 what Names soever it might be distinguished. He 
 was a Man of too great Understanding; to take the 
 Sacrament as a Test of a Schism or Party ; as a great 
 many ignorant Persons do, who by Communicating 
 with their own Church, condemn all other Christian 
 Societies. He had a deep Sense of the Divine Wis- 
 dom, that discovers it self in those methods God has 
 taken in saving Men; and when he discoursed about 
 it, he cou'd not forbear joyning with the Apostle in 
 the Exclamation : Oh the depths of the Riches and 
 Wisdom of God. And he was perswaded that all 
 Persons wou'd be of the same Mind, who shou'd read 
 the Scriptures without prejudice and this Study he 
 very frequently recommended to those, with whom 
 he conversed towards the latter end of his Life. This 
 Application of these Holy Writings, had given him a 
 more noble and compleat Idea of the Christian Reli- 
 gion than he had before ; and if he had enjoy 'd 
 strength enough, to have begun any new Works, 'tis 
 very likely he wou'd have composed some on purpose, 
 
 * Vivons pendant que nous vivons.
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. xlv 
 
 to have imprest this great and sublime Idea, on the 
 Minds of others in all its extent. 
 
 Some weeks before his Death he cou'd walk no 
 longer, and so was carried about the House in an 
 armed Chair ; but my Lady Masham going to see him 
 on the 27th of October (0. S.) 1704, and not finding 
 him in his Study where he us'd to be, but in Bed, 
 seemed to wonder at that Alteration, he told her, he 
 cou'd not bear the fatigue of rising, having weary'd 
 himself too much with it the day before, and that he 
 did not know whether he shou'd ever rise again. He 
 cou'd not Dine that day, and after Dinner some Per- 
 sons who kept him Company went into his Chamber, 
 and asked if they shou'd read something, to divert 
 him, but he refused it. However some Papers being 
 brought into his Chamber, he inquired what they were 
 after they were read, he said, That his work here was 
 almost at an end, and he thanked God for it. There- 
 upon some body coming near his Bed, he desired, 
 They would remember him in the Evening Prayers. 
 They told him, that if he pleased the Family wou'd 
 come to Prayers into his Chamber, to which he agreed. 
 They asked him, if he thought he was near Death, he 
 answer'd, That he might perhaps die that Night, but 
 that he cou'd not live above three or four days. He 
 was then in a cold Sweat, but that left him in a little 
 time. He was asked to take some Mum, a Liquor 
 which he had drunk with Pleasure the week before, 
 and which, as I have heard him say, he look'd upon 
 to be the most wholesome of all strong Drinks ; he 
 took some spoonfuls then, and drank to the Health 
 of the Company, Wishing all of them Happiness when 
 ' he shou'd be gone; afterwards there being no body 
 else in the Chamber but my Lady Masham, who sate
 
 xlvi THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. 
 
 by the Bed-side, he exhorted her, To look on this 
 World only as a State of Preparation for a better, he 
 added, That he had lived long enough, and that he 
 thanked God he had in joy' d an happy Life; but that 
 after all, he look'd upon this Life to be nothing but 
 vanity. After Supper the Family came up into his 
 Chamber to Prayers; and between eleven and twelve 
 a Clock, he seem'd to be a little better. My Lady 
 Masham wou'd have watch'd with him, but he wou'd 
 not permit her, saying, that, perhaps he might sleep, 
 and that if he shou'd find any Alteration, he wou'd 
 send for her ; he did not sleep that Night, but resolved 
 to try to rise the next Day, as he did. He was carry'd 
 into his Study, and was set in an easier Chair, where 
 he slept, by Fits, some considerable time. Then think- 
 ing himself somewhat better, he had a mind to be 
 Drest as he used to be, and ask'd for some Small-beer, 
 which he used very seldom to taste ; after that he de- 
 sired my Lady Masham, who was reading to her self 
 in the Psalms, while they Drest him, to read aloud, 
 which accordingly she did, and he seem'd very atten- 
 tive, till he was hinder'd by the nearer approaches of 
 Death, upon which he desired her to read no more, 
 and died a few minutes after, on the 28th of October, 
 (O. S.) 1704. about Three in the Afternoon, in the 
 73d. Year of his Age. 
 
 Thus died one of the greatest Philosophers of our 
 Age, who after he had made himself a perfect Master 
 of almost all the parts of Philosophy, and discover'd 
 its greatest Secrets with uncommon strength of Rea- 
 son, and correctness of Thought, happily turned his 
 Studies to the Christian Religion, which he examin'd 
 in its Original, with the same Liberty he had used in 
 his Study of other Sciences, and which he judged so
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE, xlvii 
 
 reasonable and excellent an Institution, that he Dedi- 
 cated the remainder of his Life to the contemplation 
 of it, and endeavour'd to raise in the Minds of others 
 the same high Veneration he had for it himself ; and as 
 he did not choose a religious Course of Life in a fit 
 of Discontent or ill Humour, so his Piety was neither 
 tainted with Melancholly nor Superstition. The same 
 Light that guided him in his philosophical Studies, 
 directed him in explaining the New Testament, and 
 kindled in his Soul a rational Piety, such as was wor- 
 thy of him, who gave us our Reason for no other end, 
 but that by it we might be helpt to make a good use 
 of Revelation ; and who by revealing his Will, sup- 
 poses we will imploy the Judgment and Understand- 
 ing he has given us, in acknowledging, admiring, and 
 following it. 
 
 There is no need for me to write a Panegyrick on 
 Mr. Locke : His Works which are read in several Lan- 
 guages, are a sufficient, and will be an eternal Monu- 
 ment of his vast Genius, sharp Wit, and exact Judg- 
 ment. I shall only insert a Character of him, which 
 I receiv'd from a considerable Person, to whom he 
 was perfectly well known. 
 
 "Mr. Locke, said she, (and I can bear Witness to 
 "her Evidence in a great measure, by what I have 
 "seen myself in Holland) was a great Philosopher, and 
 "a fit Person to be employ 'd in Affairs of the highest 
 "Consequence. He understood the politer Parts of 
 "Learning perfectly well ; and was very genteel and 
 "ingaging in his Conversation. He knew somewhat of 
 "all those things that are of real use to Mankind ; and 
 "was a perfect Master of what he had particularly 
 "study'd. But yet he was not pufFd up by all this, 
 "nor ever seem'd to have a better Opinion of himself
 
 xlviii THE LIFE A\D CHARACTER OF LOCKE. 
 
 "because of his Knowledge. Xo one was farther 
 "from assuming- a magisterial Air, or was less positive 
 "in his Assertions than he, and he was not in the least 
 "offended with those that did not assent to his Opin- 
 ions. But he cou'd not bear with a sort of Cavillers, 
 "who will not drop the Dispute, though they have been 
 "often refuted, and can only repeat the same things. 
 "He spake to such Persons sometimes with a little heat, 
 "but he himself wou'd first take notice of his being any 
 "ways moved. 
 
 "In the most considerable Affairs of Life, as well as 
 "in Matters of Speculation. He was always ready to 
 "hear Reason from whomsoever it came. He was in- 
 "deed the faithful Servant, nay I may say, the devoted 
 "Slave of Truth, which he loved for it self, and which 
 "no consideration was ever able to make him Desert. 
 
 "He suited his Discourse to the meanest Capacities ; 
 "and in disputing with such Persons, he gave their 
 "Objections against him their utmost weight, not tak- 
 "ing advantages of his Adversaries, if they had not 
 "expressed themselves so correctly as they ought. He 
 "conversed very freely, and willingly with all sorts 
 "of Persons, endeavouring to Learn something from 
 "them: And this proceeded not only from his genteel 
 "Education, but from his professed Opinion, that some 
 "good thing or other might be learn'd from any Per- 
 "son whatsoever. And by this means, he had attain'd 
 "to such a considerable Knowledge of several par- 
 ticular Arts, and Trades, that one wou'd have thought, 
 "he had made the Study of those things a great part 
 "of his Business. For even Tradesmen by Profession 
 "would ask his Advice, and were frequently instructed 
 "by him in things relating to their several Employ- 
 "ments.
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. xHx 
 
 "If there was anything that he cou'd not bear, 'twas 
 "ill Manners, which were indeed very ungrateful to 
 "him, when he perceived they did not arise from want 
 "of Conversation, and Knowledge of the World, but 
 "from Pride ; Ill-nature, Brutality, and other Vices 
 "of that Nature. Otherwise he was very far from 
 "despising any Persons, though their Persons were 
 "never so mean. He look'd on Civility to be not only 
 "something very agreeable and proper to win upon 
 "Men, but also a Duty of Christianity, and which 
 "ought to be more pressed, and urged upon Men, 
 "than it commonly is. He recommend on this occa- 
 "sion, a *Treatise written by Gentlemen of the Port- 
 " royal, Concerning the means to preserve Peace among 
 "Men, and he very much admired Sermons he heard 
 "from Dr. Whitchcot on this Subject, and which have 
 "been since Printed. 
 
 "His Conversation was very agreeable to all sorts 
 "of Persons, even to the Ladies themselves ; and no 
 "Person was more civilly entertain'd than he, by 
 "Persons of the highest Quality. For if he had not 
 "naturally those Qualifications, that render the Con- 
 "versation of genteel and accomplish'd Persons more 
 "easie, free, and less formal than that of other Per- 
 "sons, yet he had acquired them by his Acquaintance 
 "with the world. And this recommended him so much 
 "the more, because Persons who knew him not, did 
 "not expect that Politeness in a Man so much given 
 "to study as he was. Those who were desirous of 
 "his Conversation, to Learn those things that might 
 "be expected in a Man of his Learning, and accord- 
 ingly address'd him with great respect, were sur- 
 "prized to find in him, not only the Civility of a well 
 
 * 'Tis Printed among the Essays de Morale, de Port-royal.
 
 1 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. 
 
 "educated Person, but even all the Politeness that 
 "cou'd be desired. 
 
 "He spake very often against Raillery, which indeed 
 "is the nicest Point in Conversation, and of danger- 
 "ous Consequence, if not prudently managed. And 
 "yet no Person rally 'd with a better Grace than he ; 
 "but he always took Care to say nothing offensive, 
 "or prejudicial to any Person. He knew how to 
 "give a pleasant and agreeable Turn to everything he 
 "said. If he rally'd his Friends, it was either for 
 "some inconsiderable Faults, or, something which, 
 "'twas for their Benefit to make known. He was so 
 "extraordinarily Civil ; that when he seem'd disposed 
 "to Jest, the Company was sure he was about to say 
 "something to their Advantage. He never jested with 
 "the natural Infirmities, or Misfortunes of any Per- 
 "sons. 
 
 "He was very charitable to the Poor, except such 
 "Persons as were Idle or Prophane, and spent the 
 "Sunday in the Alehouses, and went not to Church. 
 "But above all, he did compassionate those, who after 
 "they had labour'd as long as their Strength wou'd 
 "hold, were reduced to Poverty. He said it was not 
 "enough to keep them from starving, but that such 
 "a Provision ought to be made for them, that they 
 "might live comfortably. Accordingly he sought oc- 
 "casions of doing Good to those who deserved it ; an,d 
 "often when he walked out, he wou'd visit the Poor 
 "of the Neighbourhood, and give them somewhat to 
 "supply their Necessities, or buy the Remedies which 
 "he prescribed them, if they were sick, and had no 
 "other Physician. He wou'd not let any useful thing 
 "be lost or wasted: He thought that was to destroy 
 "those good Things of which God has made us only
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. K 
 
 "Stewards: Accordingly he kept good Orders, and 
 "took an Account of every Thing. 
 
 "If he was subject to any Passion, 'twas Anger ; 
 "but he had made himself so much Master of it by 
 "Reason, that it was very rarely troublesome to him- 
 "self or others. No Person cou'd better expose that 
 "Passion, or make it appear more ridiculous than he. 
 "He wou'd say, it was of no use either in the edu- 
 "cating Children, or keeping Servants in order; but 
 "that it did indeed make a Person lose his Authority. 
 "He was very kind to his Servants, and would take 
 "the trouble to instruct them with a great deal of 
 "Mildness, after what manner he expected to be served 
 "by them. 
 
 "He not only faithfully kept a Secret that had been 
 "trusted with him, but wou'd never Report any thing 
 "that might prejudice the Person from whom he heard 
 "it; tho' his Silence had not been desired. Nor did 
 "he ever bring his Friends into any Inconvenience 
 "thro' his inadvertency or want of Discretion. 
 
 "He was very exact to his Word, and religiously 
 "performed whatever he promis'd. He was very scru- 
 pulous of giving Recommendations of Persons, whom 
 "he did not well know ; and wou'd by no means com- 
 "mend those, who he thought did not deserve it: If 
 "he was told that his Recommendations had not pro- 
 duced the Effect expected ; he wou'd say, The Reason 
 "of that was, because he had never deceived any Per- 
 "son, by saying more than he knew; that he never 
 "pass'd his Word for any, but such as he believ'd 
 "wou'd answer the Character he gave of 'em; and that 
 "if he shou'd do otherwise, his Recommendations 
 "wou'd be worth nothing. 
 
 "His greatest Diversion was to Discourse with sen-
 
 lii THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. 
 
 "sible Persons, of whose Conversation he was very 
 "desirous. He had all the good Qualities, that cou'd 
 "render his Friendship pleasant and agreeable. He 
 "would never Game, but out of Complaisance. Altho' 
 "being often in Company with those who used it, he 
 "cou'd Play very well, if he set about it. But he wou'd 
 "never propose it, for he said it was but an Amuse- 
 "ment for those who wanted Conversation. 
 
 "His Dress was neat, without either Affectation, or 
 "Singularity. 
 
 "He was naturally .very Active, and employ 'd him- 
 "self as much as his Health would permit. Sometimes 
 "he pleas'd himself with working in a Garden, which 
 "he very well understood. He lov'd walking, but not 
 "being able to walk much thro' the disorder of his 
 "Lungs, he used to Ride on his Horse after Dinner, 
 "and when he cou'd not bare an Horse, in a Calash. 
 "He always chose to have Company with him. tho' 
 "it were but a Child, for he took Pleasure in talking 
 "with Children of a good Education. 
 
 "The weakness of his Health was a Disturbance to 
 "none but himself; and one might look on him with- 
 "out any other concern, than that of seeing him suffer. 
 "He did not differ from others in his Diet, but only 
 "in that his ordinary Drink was nothing but Water; 
 "and he thought that was the means of lengthening 
 "out his Life to such an Age. Tho' he was of so weak 
 "a Constitution, and that it was to this that he ow'd 
 "the Preservation of his Eye-sight, which was but 
 "little impair'd when he dy'd, for he cou'd read by 
 "Candle-light all sorts of Books, if they were not of 
 "a very small Print, and he never used Spectacles. 
 "He had no other Distemper but his Asthma, except- 
 ing that four Years before his Death, he was very
 
 THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF LOCKE. liii 
 
 "Deaf: But it did not last above six Months. His 
 "deafness depriving him of the Pleasure of Conversa- 
 tion ; in a Letter that he then wrote to one of his 
 "Friends, he said he did not know but it was better 
 "to be Blind than Deaf. Otherwise he bore up under 
 "his Afflictions very patiently." 
 
 This is a Picture of that great Man, drawn after the 
 Life and wherein he is not at all flatter 'd. I wish it 
 were in my Power, not only to make his Memory, but 
 his Genius immortal, by perswading all Students to 
 search after Truth, to love it, and defend it as he has 
 done. But the reading of his Works will do that bet- 
 ter, than all the Praises I can give him, or all the 
 Arguments I can lay before them ; and I am also in- 
 form'd, That he has left behind him a Discourse of 
 the Right Method of searching after Truth: Which 
 will be Publish'd in a little Time. Henry Schelte the 
 Bookseller at Amsterdam, will also Publish it in 
 French, with his other Posthumous Works. 
 
 I shall only adde, That several Books have been 
 father'd on him, of which he was not the Author, and 
 that he has left a Note of those that are his, but bear 
 not his Name, of which we have already spoken. For 
 Instance, they made him the Author of a litttle Eng- 
 lish Treatise of the Love of God, which was written 
 by a very worthy Person, and for whom he had a 
 very great Esteem. 
 
 This Treatise is also Printing in French at Amster- 
 dam, and will be Sold by the aforesaid Bookseller.
 
 WRITINGS OF LOCKE IN ORDER OF PUBLI- 
 CATION. 
 
 (Adapted from Eraser's " Locke," Appendix.) 
 
 PUBLISHED DURING LOCKE'S RESIDENCE IN HOLLAND. 
 
 Contributions to the " Bibliotheque Universelle " 
 (a) Methode Nouvelle de dresser des Recueils; (b) 
 Review of Boyle's " De Specificorum Remediorum cum 
 Corpusculari Philosophia Concordia"; (c) Epitome 
 
 of the "Essay," etc 1686-88 
 
 PUBLISHED DURING LOCKE'S RESIDENCE IN LONDON. 
 
 Epistola de Tolerantia March 1689 
 
 Translated by Popple in the following summer. 
 
 Two Treatises on Government February 1690 
 
 Essay concerning Human Understanding. . . March 1690 
 Second Letter for Toleration October 1690 
 
 PUBLISHED DURING LOCKE'S RESIDENCE AT GATES, BEFORE 
 THE COMMISSIONERSHIP. 
 
 Some Considerations on the Consequence of Lowering 
 the Rate of Interest and Raising the Value of Money. 1691 
 
 A Third Letter of Toleration 1692 
 
 Some Thoughts concerning Education (dedicated to 
 Clarke of Chipley) July 1693 
 
 Second Edition of the Essay concerning Human Under- 
 standing : . . . . 1694 
 
 Third Edition of the Essay 1695 
 
 For Encouraging the Coining of Silver Money, and 
 after for keeping it here 1695 
 
 Further Considerations concerning Raising the Value 
 of Money 1695 
 
 The Reasonableness of Christianity as delivered in the 
 Scriptures June 1695
 
 Ivi WRITINGS OF LOCKE. 
 
 A Vindication of the Reasonableness of Christianity 
 
 from Mr. Edwards' Reflections 1695 
 
 PUBLISHED DURING LOCKE'S RESIDENCE AT GATES, DURING 
 THE COMMISSIONERSHIP. 
 
 Second Vindication of the Reasonableness of Chris- 
 tianity 1697 
 
 A Letter to the Bishop of Worcester (Stillingfleet) 
 concerning some Passages relating to Mr. Locke's 
 Essay of Human Understanding in a Late Discourse 
 of his Lordship's in Vindication of the Trinity. . . 1697 
 
 Mr. Locke's Reply to the Bishop of Worcester's Answer 
 to his Letter 1697 
 
 Mr. Locke's Reply to the Bishop of Worcester's Answer 
 to his Second Letter 1699 
 
 Fourth Edition of Essay Concerning Human Under- 
 standing 1700 
 
 POSTHUMOUS WORKS. 
 
 A Paraphrase and Notes on the Epistles of St. Paul 
 to the Galatians, First and Second Corinthians, Ro- 
 mans, and Ephesians. To which is prefixed an Essay 
 for the Understanding of St. Paul's Epistles by con- 
 sulting St. Paul himself 1705-7 
 
 A Discourse of Miracles 1706 
 
 A Fourth Letter for Toleration (fragment). . . . 1706 
 An Examination of Father Malebranche's Opinion of 
 
 Seeing all Things in God ' . 1706 
 
 The Conduct of the Understanding 1706 
 
 Memoirs relating to the Life of Anthony, First Earl 
 
 of Shaftesbury 1706 
 
 Some Familiar Letters Between Mr. Locke and several 
 
 of his Friends 1706 
 
 The Fundamental Constitutions of Carolina. . . . 1720 
 Remarks upon some of Mr. Norris's Books, Wherein 
 he asserts Father Malebranche's Opinion of our See- 
 ing all Things in God 1720 
 
 Elements of Natural Philosophy 1720 
 
 Some Thoughts concerning Reading and Study for a 
 Gentleman. . . 1720
 
 WRITINGS OF LOCKE. Ivii 
 
 Rules of a Society which met once a-week for their 
 Improvement in Useful Knowledge, and for the Pro- 
 motion of Truth and Christian Charity 1720 
 
 Letters ot Anthony Collins and others 1720 
 
 THE most satisfactory edition of the complete works of 
 Locke is that of Bishop Law, 1777. The best edition of the 
 "Essay Concerning Human Understanding" is that of A. C. 
 Fraser (Clarendon Press, 1894, 2 volumes). The "Essay" is 
 published also in the Bohn edition. The completest biog- 
 raphy of Locke is that of Fox Bourne (1876) ; reference may 
 be made also to Leslie Stephen in his "History of English 
 Thought in the Eighteenth Century" (1876 and 1881), and to 
 Benjamin Rand, "Life, Unpublished Letters, and Philosophical 
 Regimen of the Third Earl of Shaftesbury" (1900). For dis- 
 cussions of Locke's doctrine, cf. the contemporary criticism of 
 Henry Lee : "Anti-Scepticism, or Notes upon each chapter of 
 Mr. Locke's Essay" (1702); of Leibniz: "Nouveaux Essais 
 sur 1'Entendement Humain" (published 1765, translated by 
 Langley, 1896 ; and of Jonas Proast : "The Argument of the 
 Letter concerning Toleration Considered and Answered" 
 (1690). Cf. also Cousin, "Ecole Sensualiste, Systeme de 
 Locke" in his "Histoire de la Philosophic au XVIII. Siecle," 
 (1829) ; Fraser, "Prolegomena" to his edition of the "Essay," 
 and "Locke" (Blackwood Series, 1890) ; Drobisch, "Ueber 
 Locke den Yorlaufer Kants," Zeitschrift fur exakte Philo- 
 sophic, II. 1861 ; B. Erdmann, "Descartes und Locke," Archiv 
 fiir Geschichte der Philosophic, II. 1888; and A. W. Moore, 
 "The Functional versus the Representational Theory of 
 Knowledge in Locke's Essay" (Chicago, Univ. Press, 1902).
 
 ESSAY 
 
 A N 
 
 CONCERNING 
 
 In Four BOOKS. 
 
 Writtten by / H N L CK , Gent. 
 
 The Second Edition, with large Additions. 
 
 Quani helium eft vette confiteri potius nejcire quod nef- 
 cias, cfuam ijlaejfutientetn naufeare, atque ipfumfibi 
 difplicere ! Cic. dc Natur. Deor. /. i. 
 
 LONDON, 
 
 Printed for 3Wmfl)am and 3Jo!)n Cl)U!)tl, at the Slack 
 Swan in flW-^o/Zer-^olfc, and 5>amUCl ^anfl)ip, at the 
 S//> in Corn/ji/7, near the Royal Excbane t M DC XCIV.
 
 TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 THOMAS, EARL OF PEMBROKE AND MONT- 
 GOMERY. 
 
 BARON HERBERT OF CARDIFF, LORD ROSS OF KENDAL, 
 PAR, FITZHUGH, MARMION, ST. QUINTIN AND SHUR- 
 LAND; LORD PRESIDENT OF HIS MAJESTY'S MOST 
 HONOURABLE PRIVY COUNCIL, AND LORD LIEUTENANT 
 OF THE COUNTY OF WILTS, AND OF SOUTH WALES. 
 
 MY LORD, 
 
 THIS treatise, which is grown up under your lord- 
 ship's eye, and has ventured into the world by your 
 order, does now, by a natural kind of right, come to 
 your lordship for that protection which you several 
 years since promised it. It is not that I think any 
 name, how great soever, set at the beginning of a book, 
 will be able to cover the faults that are to be found in 
 it. Things in print must stand and fall by their own 
 worth, or the reader's fancy. But, there being nothing 
 more to be desired for truth than a fair unprejudiced 
 hearing, nobody is more likely to procure me that than 
 your lordship, who are allowed to have got so intimate 
 an acquaintance with her in her more retired recesses. 
 Your lordship is known to have so far advanced your 
 speculations in the most abstract and general knowl- 
 edge of things, beyond the ordinary reach or common 
 methods, that your allowance and approbation of the 
 design of this treatise will at least preserve it from be- 
 
 3
 
 4 THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY. 
 
 ing condemned without reading; and will prevail to 
 have those parts a little weighed which might other- 
 wise, perhaps, be thought to deserve no consideration, 
 for being somewhat out of the common road. The im- 
 putation of novelty is a terrible charge amongst those 
 who judge of men's heads, as they do of their perukes, 
 by the fashion ; and can allow none to be right but the 
 received doctrines. Truth scarce ever yet carried it by 
 vote any where at its first appearance ; new opinions are 
 always suspected, and usually opposed, without and 
 other reason but because they are not already com- 
 mon. But truth, like gold, is not the less so for being 
 newly brought out of the mine. It is trial and exam- 
 ination must give it price, and not any antique fashion ; 
 and though it be not yet current by the public stamp, 
 yet it may, for all that, be as old as nature, and is cer- 
 tainly not the less genuine. Your lordship can give 
 great and convincing instances of this, whenever you 
 please to oblige the public with some of those large and 
 comprehensive discoveries you have made of truths 
 hitherto unknown, unless to some few, from whom your 
 lordship has been pleased not wholly to conceal them. 
 This alone were a sufficient reason, were there no other, 
 why I should dedicate this Essay to your lordship ; and 
 its having some little correspondence with some parts 
 of that nobler and vast system of the sciences your 
 lordship has made so new, exact, and instructive a 
 draught of, I think it glory enough if your lordship 
 permit me to boast that here and there I have fallen 
 into some thoughts not wholly different from yours. 
 If your lordship think fit, that, by your encouragement, 
 this should appear in the world, I hope it may be a 
 reason, some time or other, to lead your lordship far- 
 ther ; and you will allow me to say, that you here give
 
 THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY. 5 
 
 the world an earnest of something, that, if they can 
 bear with this, will be truly worth their expectation. 
 This, my lord, shows what a present I here make to 
 your lordship; just such as the poor man does to his 
 rich and great neighbour, by whom the basket of flow- 
 ers or fruit is not ill taken, though he has more plenty 
 of his own growth, and in much greater perfection. 
 Worthless things receive a value when they are made 
 the offerings of respect, esteem, and gratitude; these 
 you have given me so mighty and peculiar reasons to 
 have in the highest degree for your lordship, that if 
 they can add a price to what they go along with pro- 
 portionable to their own greatness, I can with confi- 
 dence brag, I here make your lordship the richest pres- 
 ent you ever received. This I am sure, I am under the 
 greatest obligation to seek all occasions to acknowledge 
 a long train of favours I have received from your lord- 
 ship; favours, though great and important in them- 
 selves, yet made much more so by the forwardness, 
 concern, and kindness, and other obliging circum- 
 stances, that never failed to accompany them. To all 
 this, you are pleased to add that which gives yet more 
 weight and relish to all the rest ; you vouchsafe to con- 
 tinue me in some degrees of your esteem, and allow me 
 a place in your good thoughts, I had almost said friend- 
 ship. This, my lord, your words and actions so con- 
 stantly show on all occasions, even to others when I am 
 absent, that it is not vanity in me to mention what every 
 body knows; but it would be want of good manners 
 not to acknowledge what so many are witnesses of, and 
 every day tell me I am indebted to your lordship for. 
 I wish they could as easily assist my gratitude, as they 
 convince me of the great and growing engagements it 
 has to your lordship. This I am sure, I should write
 
 6 THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY. 
 
 of the UNDERSTANDING without having any, if I were 
 not extremely sensible of them, and did not lay hold 
 on this opportunity to testify to the world how much I 
 am obliged to be, and how much I am, 
 MY LORD, 
 
 Your lordship's most humble 
 and most obedient servant, 
 
 JOHN LOCKE. 
 [Dorset Court, May 24, 1689.]
 
 THE 
 EPISTLE TO THE READER. 
 
 READER, 
 
 I HERE put into thy hands what has been the diver- 
 sion of some of my idle and heavy hours ; if it has the 
 good-luck to prove so of any of thine, and thou hast 
 but half so much pleasure in reading as I had in writing 
 it, thou wilt as little think thy money, as I do my pains, 
 ill bestowed. Mistake not this for a commendation of 
 my work ; nor conclude, because I was pleased with the 
 doing of it, that therefore I am fondly taken with it 
 now it is done. He that hawks at larks and sparrows, 
 has no less sport, though a much less considerable 
 quarry, than he that flies at nobler game: and he is 
 little acquainted with the subject of this treatise, the 
 Understanding, who does not know, that as it is the 
 most elevated faculty of the soul, so it is employed with 
 a greater and more constant delight than any of the 
 other. Its searches after truth are a sort of hawking 
 and hunting, wherein the very pursuit makes a great 
 part of the pleasure. Every step the mind takes in its 
 progress towards knowledge makes some discovery, 
 which is not only new, but the best, too, for the time at 
 least. 
 
 For the understanding, like the eye, judging of ob- 
 jects only by its own sight, cannot but be pleased with 
 what it discovers, having less regret for what has es- 
 caped it, because it is unknown. Thus he who has 
 
 7
 
 8 THE EPISTLE TO THE READER. 
 
 raised himself above the alms-basket, and not content 
 to live lazily on scraps of begged opinions, sets his own 
 thoughts on work, to find and follow truth, will (what- 
 ever he lights on) not miss the hunter's satisfaction; 
 every moment of his pursuit will reward his pains with 
 some delight, and he will have reason to think his time 
 not ill spent, even when he cannot much boast of any 
 great acquisition. 
 
 This, reader, is the entertainment of those who let 
 loose their own thoughts, and follow them in writing ; 
 which thou oughtest not to envy them, since they afford 
 thee an opportunity of the like diversion, if thou wilt 
 make use of thy own thoughts in reading. It is to 
 them, if they are thy own, that I refer myself; but if 
 they are taken upon trust from others, it is no great 
 matter what they are, they not following truth, but 
 some meaner consideration; and it is not worth while 
 to be concerned what he says or thinks, who say or 
 thinks only as he is directed by another. If thou 
 judgest for thyself, I know thou wilt judge candidly ; 
 and then I shall not be harmed or offended, whatever 
 be the censure. For, though it be certain that there is 
 nothing in this treatise of the truth whereof I am not 
 fully persuaded, yet I consider myself as liable to mis- 
 takes as I can think thee ; and know that this book must 
 stand or fall with thee, not by any opinion I have of it, 
 but thy own. If thou findest little in it new or instruc- 
 tive to thee, thou art not to blame me for it. It was 
 not meant for those that had already mastered this sub- 
 ject, and made a thorough acquaintance with their own 
 understandings, but for my own information, and the 
 satisfaction of a few friends, who acknowledged them- 
 selves not to have sufficiently considered it. 
 
 Were it fit to trouble thee with the history of this
 
 THE EPISTLE TO THE READER. 9 
 
 Essay, I should tell thee, that five or six friends, meet- 
 ing at my chamber, and discoursing on a subject very 
 remote from this, found themselves quickly at a stand 
 by the difficulties that rose on every side. After we had 
 awhile puzzled ourselves, without coming any nearer a 
 resolution of those doubts which perplexed us, it came 
 into my thoughts, that we took a wrong course; and 
 that, before we set ourselves upon inquiries of that 
 nature, it was necessary to examine our own abilities, 
 and see what objects our understandings were or were 
 not fitted to deal with. This I proposed to the com- 
 pany, who all readily assented ; and thereupon it was 
 agreed, that this should be our first inquiry. Some 
 hasty and undigested thoughts, on a subject I had never 
 before considered, which I set down against our next 
 meeting, gave the first entrance into this discourse, 
 which, having been thus begun by chance, was con- 
 tinued by intreaty ; written by incoherent parcels ; and, 
 after long intervals of neglect, resumed again, as my 
 humour or occasions permitted ; and at last, in a retire- 
 ment, where an attendance on my health gave me 
 leisure, it was brought into that order thou now seest 
 it. 
 
 This discontinued way of writing may have oc- 
 casioned, besides others, two contrary faults, viz., that 
 too little and too much may be said in it. If thou 
 findest any thing wanting, I shall be glad, that what I 
 have writ gives thee any desire that I should have gone 
 farther : if it seems too much to thee, thou must blame 
 the subject ; for when I first put pen to paper, I thought 
 all I should have to say on this matter would have been 
 contained in one sheet of paper ; but the farther I went, 
 the larger prospect I had : new discoveries led me still 
 on, and so it grew insensibly to the bulk it now ap-
 
 10 THE EPISTLE TO THE READER. 
 
 pears in. I will not deny but possibly it might be re- 
 duced to a narrower compass than it is ; and that some 
 parts of it might be contracted : the way it has been 
 writ in, by catches, and many long intervals of inter- 
 ruption, being apt to cause some repetitions. But, to 
 confess the truth, I am now too lazy or too busy to 
 make it shorter. 
 
 I am not ignorant how little I herein consult my own 
 reputation when I knowingly let it go with a fault so 
 apt to disgust the most judicious, who are always the 
 nicest readers. But the$r who know sloth is apt to 
 content itself with any excuse, will pardon me, if mine 
 has prevailed on me where I think I have a very good 
 one. I will not, therefore, allege 'in my defence, that 
 the same notion, having different respects, may be con- 
 venient or necessary to prove or illustrate several parts 
 of the same discourse ; and that so it has happened in 
 many parts of this ; but, waiving that, I shall frankly 
 avow, that I have sometimes dwelt long upon the same 
 argument, and expressed it different ways, with a quite 
 different design. I pretend not to publish this Essay 
 for the information of men of large thoughts and quick 
 apprehensions ; to such masters of knowledge, I profess 
 myself a scholar, and therefore warn them beforehand 
 not to expect anything here but what, being spun out of 
 my own coarse thoughts, is fitted to men of my own 
 size, to whom, perhaps, it will not be unacceptable that 
 I have taken some pains to make plain and familiar to 
 their thoughts some truths, which established prej- 
 udice, or the abstractedness of the ideas themselves, 
 might render difficult. Some objects had need be 
 turned on every side ; and when the notion is new, as I 
 confess some of these are to me, or out of the ordinary 
 road, as I suspect they will appear to others, it is not
 
 THE EPISTLE TO THE READER. n 
 
 one simple view of it that will gain it admittance into 
 every understanding, or fix it there with a clear and 
 lasting impression. There are few, I believe, who have 
 not observed in themselves or others, that what in one 
 way of proposing was very obscure, another way of 
 expressing it has made very clear and intelligible; 
 though afterward the mind found little difference in the 
 phrases, and wondered why one failed to be under- 
 stood more than the other. But every thing does not 
 hit alike upon every man's imagination. We have our 
 understandings no less different than our palates ; and 
 he that thinks the same truth shall be equally relished 
 by every one in the same dress, may as well hope to 
 feast every one with the same sort of cookery; the 
 meat may be the same, and the nourishment good, yet 
 every one not be able to receive it with that seasoning ; 
 and it must be dressed another way, if you will have 
 it go down with some even of strong constitutions. 
 The truth is, those who advised me to publish it, ad- 
 vised me, for this reason, to publish it as it is: and 
 since I have been brought to let it go abroad, I desire 
 it should be understood by whoever gives himself the 
 pains to read it. I have so little affection to be in 
 print, that if I were not flattered this Essay might be 
 of some use to others, as I think it has been to me, I 
 should have confined it to the view of some friends, 
 who gave the first occasion to it. My appearing there- 
 fore in print being on purpose to be as useful as I may, 
 I think it necessary to make what I have to say as easy 
 and intelligible to all sorts of readers as I can. And 
 I had much rather the speculative and quick-sighted 
 should complain of my being in some parts tedious, 
 than that any one, not accustomed to abstract specula-
 
 12 THE EPISTLE TO THE READER. 
 
 tions, or prepossessed with different notions, should 
 mistake or not comprehend my meaning. 
 
 It will possibly be censured as a great piece of vanity 
 or insolence in me, to pretend to instruct this our know- 
 ing age, it amounting to little less when I own that I 
 publish this Essay with hopes that it may be useful to 
 others. But if it may be permitted to speak freely of 
 those who, with a feigned modesty, condemn as use- 
 less what they themselves write, methinks it savours 
 much more of vanity or insolence to publish a book for 
 any other end ; and he fails very much of that respect 
 he owes the public, who prints, and consequently ex- 
 pects that men should read, that wherein he intends not 
 they should meet with any thing of use to themselves 
 or others : and should nothing else be found allowable 
 in this treatise, yet my design will not cease to be so ; 
 and the goodness of my intention ought to be some 
 excuse for the worthlessness of my present. It is that 
 chiefly which secures me from the fear of censure, 
 which I expect not to escape more than better writers. 
 Men's principles, notions, and relishes are so different, 
 that it is hard to find a book which pleases or dis- 
 pleases all men. I acknowledge the age we live in is 
 not the least knowing, and therefore not the most easy 
 to be satisfied. If I have not the good-luck to please, 
 yet nobody ought to be offended with me. I plainly 
 tell all my readers, except half a dozen, this treatise 
 was not at first intended for them ; and therefore they 
 need not be at the trouble to be of that number. But 
 yet if any one thinks fit to be angry, and rail at it, he 
 may do it securely ; for I shall find som6 better way of 
 spending my time than in such kind of conservation. I 
 shall always have the satisfaction to have aimed sin- 
 cerely at truth and usefulness, though in one of the
 
 THE EPISTLE TO THE READER. 13 
 
 meanest ways. The commonwealth of learning is not 
 at this time without master-builders, whose mighty de- 
 signs in advancing the sciences will leave lasting monu- 
 ments to the admiration of posterity: but every one 
 must not hope to be a Boyle or a Sydenharn ; and in 
 an age that produces such masters as the great Huy- 
 genius, and the incomparable Mr. Newton, with some 
 other of that strain, it is ambition enough to be em- 
 ployed as an under-labourer in clearing the ground a 
 little, and removing some of the rubbish that lies in the 
 way to knowledge ; which certainly had been very much 
 more advanced in the world, if the endeavours of in- 
 genious and industrious men had not been much cum- 
 bered with the learned but frivolous use of uncouth, 
 affected, or unintelligible terms introduced into the 
 sciences, and there made an art of, to that degree that 
 philosophy, which is nothing but the true knowledge 
 of things, was thought unfit or uncapable to be brought 
 into well-bred company and polite conversation. 
 Vague and insignificant forms of speech, and abuse of 
 language, have so long passed for mysteries of science ; 
 and hard or misapplied words, with little or no mean- 
 ing, have, by prescription, such a right to be mistaken 
 for deep learning and height of speculation ; that it will 
 not be easy to persuade either those who speak or those 
 who hear them, that they are but the covers of igno- 
 rance, and hinderance of true knowledge. To break 
 in upon the sanctuary of vanity and ignorance, will be, 
 I suppose, some service to human understanding: 
 though so few are apt to think they deceive or are de- 
 ceived in the use of words, or that the language of the 
 sect they are of has any faults in it which ought to be 
 examined or corrected, that I hope I shall be pardoned 
 if I have in the third book dwelt long on this subject;
 
 14 THE EPISTLE TO THE READER. 
 
 and endeavored to make it so plain, that neither the 
 inveterateness of the mischief, nor the prevalency of 
 the fashion, shall be any excuse for those who will not 
 take care about the meaning of their own words, and 
 will not suffer the significancy of their expressions to 
 be inquired into. 
 
 I have been told that a short epitome of this treatise, 
 which was printed in 1688, was by some condemned 
 without reading, because innate ideas were denied in 
 it; they too hastily concluding, that if innate ideas were 
 not supposed, there would be little left either of the 
 notion or proof of spirits. If any one take the like 
 offence at the entrance of this treatise, I shall desire 
 him to read it through ; and then I hope he will be con- 
 vinced, that the taking away false foundations is not 
 to the prejudice, but advantage, of truth, which is never 
 inured or endangered so much as when mixed with, or 
 built on, falsehood. In the second edition I added as 
 f olloweth : 
 
 The bookseller will not forgive me, if I say nothing 
 of this second edition, which he has promised, by the 
 correctness of it, shall make amends for the many faults 
 committed in the former. He desires, too, that it 
 should be known, that it has one whole new chapter 
 concerning identity, and many additions and amend- 
 ments in other places. These, I must inform my 
 reader, are not all new matter, but most of them either 
 farther confirmation of what I had said, or explications, 
 to prevent others being mistaken in the sense of what 
 was formerly printed, and not any variation in me from 
 it: I must only except the alterations I have made in 
 book ii. chap. xxi. 
 
 What I had there writ concerning " liberty " and the 
 " will," I thought deserved as accurate a review as I
 
 THE EPISTLE TO THE READER. 15 
 
 was capable of: those subjects having in all ages exer- 
 cised the learned part of the world with questions and 
 difficulties that have not a little perplexed morality and 
 divinity, those parts of knowledge that men are most 
 concerned to be clear in. Upon a closer inspection into 
 the working of men's minds, and a stricter examination 
 of those motives and views they are termed by, I have 
 found reason somewhat to alter the thoughts I formerly 
 had concerning that which gives the last determination 
 to the will in all voluntary actions. This I cannot for- 
 bear 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; thinking myself more con- 
 cerned to quit and renounce any opinion ol 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 evidence of any error in it ; yet this 
 I must own, that I have not had the good-luck to re- 
 ceive any light from those exceptions I have met with 
 in print against any part of my book ; nor have, from 
 any thing has been urged against it, found reason to 
 alter my sense in any of the points that have been ques- 
 tioned. Whether the subject I have in hand requires 
 often more thought and attention than cursory readers, 
 at least such as are prepossessed, are willing to allow ; 
 or whether any obscurity in my expressions casts a 
 cloud over it, and these notions are made difficult to 
 others' apprehensions in my way of treating them ; so 
 it is, that my meaning, I find, is often mistaken, and I
 
 16 THE EPISTLE TO THE READER. 
 
 have not the good-luck to be every where rightly under- 
 stood. 
 
 ********
 
 BOOK 1. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 1. An inquiry into the understanding, pleasant and 
 useful. Since it is the understanding that sets man 
 above the rest of sensible beings, and gives him all the 
 advantage and dominion which he has over them, it is 
 certainly a subject, even for its nobleness, worth our 
 labour to inquire into. The understanding, like the 
 eye, whilst it makes us see and perceive all other things, 
 takes no notice of itself ; and it requires 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 acquaintance we 
 can make with our own understandings, will not only 
 be very pleasant, but bring us great advantage in di- 
 recting our thoughts in the search of other things. 
 
 2. Design. This therefore being my purpose, to 
 inquire into the original, certainty, and extent of hu- 
 man knowledge, together with the grounds and de- 
 grees of belief, opinion, and assent, I shall not at pres- 
 ent meddle with the physical consideration of the mind, 
 or trouble myself to examine wherein its essence con- 
 sists or by what motions of our spirits, or alterations 
 
 17
 
 i8 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 of our bodies, we come to have any sensation by our 
 organs, or any ideas in our understandings; and 
 whether those ideas do, in their formation, any or all 
 of them, depend on matter or not : these are speculations 
 which, however curious and entertaining, I shall de- 
 cline, as lying out of my way in the design I am now 
 upon. It shall suffice to my present purpose, to con- 
 sider the discerning faculties of a man, as they are 
 employed about the objects which they have to do with ; 
 and I shall imagine I have not wholly misemployed 
 myself in the thoughts I shall have on this occasion, 
 if, in this historical, plain method, I can give any ac- 
 count of the ways whereby our understandings come 
 to attain those notions of things we have, and can set 
 down any measures of the certainty of our knowledge, 
 or the grounds of those persuasions which are to be 
 found amongst men, so various, different, and wholly 
 contradictory ; and yet asserted somewhere or other 
 with such assurance and confidence, that he that shall 
 take a view of the opinions of mankind, observe their 
 opposition, and at the same time consider the fondness 
 and devotion wherewith they are embraced, the resolu- 
 tion and eagerness wherewith they are maintained, may 
 perhaps have reason to suspect that either there is no 
 such thing as truth at all, or that mankind hath no 
 sufficient means to attain a certain knowledge of it. , 
 
 3- N Method. It is therefore worth while to search 
 out the bounds between opinion and knowledge, and 
 examine by what measures, in things whereof we have 
 no certain knowledge, we ought to regulate our assent, 
 and moderate our persuasions. In order whereunto, I 
 shall pursue this following method: 
 
 First. I shall inquire into the original of those ideas, 
 notions, dr whatever else you please to call them, which
 
 INTRODUCTION. 19 
 
 a man observes, and is conscious to himself he has in 
 his mind; and the ways whereby the understanding 
 comes to be furnished with them. 
 
 Secondly. I shall endeavour to show what knowl- 
 edge the understanding hath by those ideas, and the 
 certainty, evidence, and extent of it. 
 
 Thirdly. I shall make some inquiry into the nature 
 and grounds of faith or opinion ; whereby I mean, that 
 assent which we give to any proposition as true, of 
 whose truth yet we have no certain knowledge : and 
 here we shall have occasion to examine the reasons 
 and degrees of assent. 
 
 4. Useful to know the extent of our comprehension. 
 If by this inquiry into the nature of the understand- 
 ing, I can discover the powers thereof, how far they 
 reach, to what things they are in any degree pro- 
 portionate, and where they fail us, I suppose it may 
 be of use to prevail with the busy mind of man to be 
 more cautious in meddling with things exceeding its 
 comprehension, to stop when it is at the utmost extent 
 of its tether, and to sit down in a quiet ignorance of 
 those things which, upon examination, are found to 
 be beyond the reach of our capacities. We should not 
 then, perhaps, be so forward, out of an affectation of an 
 universal knowledge, to raise questions, and perplex 
 ourselves and others with disputes, about things to 
 which our understandings are not suited, and of which 
 we cannot frame in our minds any clear or distinct 
 perceptions, or whereof (as it has, perhaps, too often 
 happened) we have not any notions at all. If we can 
 find out how far the understanding can extend its 
 view, how far it has faculties to attain certainty, and 
 in what cases it can only judge and guess, we may
 
 20 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 learn to content ourselves with what is attainable by 
 us in this state. 
 
 5. Our capacity suited to our state and concerns. 
 For though the comprehension of our understandings 
 comes exceeding short of the vast extent of things, 
 yet we shall have cause enough to magnify the bounti- 
 ful Author of our being for that proportion and de- 
 gree of knowledge he has bestowed on us, so far above 
 all the rest of the inhabitants of this our mansion. 
 Men have reason to be well satisfied with what God 
 hath thought fit for them, since he has given them, as 
 St. Peter says, vdvra irpos fa^v K<H fvcreftuav, whatso- 
 ever is necessary for the conveniences of life, and in- 
 formation of virtue; and has put within the reach of 
 their discovery, the comfortable provision for this life 
 and the way that leads to a better. How short so- 
 ever their knowledge may come of an universal or 
 perfect comprehension of whatsoever is, it yet secures 
 their great concernments that they have light 
 enough to lead them to the knowledge of their 
 Maker, and the sight of their own duties. Men 
 may find matter sufficient to busy their heads 
 and employ their hands with variety, delight, 
 and satisfaction, if they will not boldly quarrel 
 with their own constitution, and throw away the bless- 
 ings their hands are filled with, because they are not 
 big enough to grasp every thing. We shall not have 
 much reason to complain of the narrowness of our 
 minds, if we will but employ them about what may be 
 of use to us ; for of thai they are very capable : and it 
 will be an unpardonable as well as childish peevish- 
 ness, if we undervalue the advantages of our knowl- 
 edge, and neglect to improve it to the ends for which 
 it was given us, because there are some things that
 
 INTRODUCTION. 21 
 
 are set out of the reach of it. It will be no excuse to 
 an idle and untoward servant, who would not attend 
 his business by candlelight, to plead that he had not 
 broad sunshine. The candle that is set up in us shines 
 bright enough for all our purposes. The discoveries 
 we can make with this ought to satisfy us; and we 
 shall then use our understandings right, when we en- 
 tertain all objects in that way and proportion that they 
 are suited to our faculties, and upon those grounds 
 they are capable of being proposed to us ; and not per- 
 emptorily or intemperately require demonstration, and 
 demand certainty, where probability only is to be had, 
 and which is sufficient to govern all our concernments. 
 If we will disbelieve every thing because we cannot 
 certainly know all things, we shall do much-what as 
 wisely as he who would not use his legs, but sit still 
 and perish because he had no wings to fly. 
 
 6. Knowledge of our capacity a cure of scepticism 
 and idleness. When we know our own strength, we 
 shall the better know what to undertake with hopes of 
 success ; and when we have well surveyed the powers 
 of our own minds, and made some estimate what we 
 may expect from them, we shall not be inclined either 
 to sit still, and not set our thoughts on work at all, in 
 despair of knowing any thing; nor, on the other side, 
 question every thing, and disclaim all knowledge, be- 
 cause some things are not to be understood. It is of 
 great use to the sailor to know the length of his line, 
 though he cannot with it fathom all the depths of the 
 ocean; it is well he knows that it is long enough to 
 reach the bottom at such places as are necessary to 
 direct his voyage, and caution him against running 
 upon shoals that may ruin him. Our business here is 
 not to know all things; but those which concern our
 
 22 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 conduct. If we can find out those measures whereby 
 a rational creature, put in that state which man is in 
 in this world, may and ought to govern his opinions and 
 actions depending thereon, we need not be troubled 
 that some other things escape our knowledge. 
 
 7. Occasion of this Essay. This was that which 
 gave the first rise to this Essay concerning the Under- 
 standing. For I thought that the first step towards 
 satisfying several inquiries the mind of man was very 
 apt -to run into, was, to take a survey of our own un- 
 derstandings, examine our own powers, and see to 
 what things they were adapted. Till that was done, 
 I suspected we began at the wrong end, and in vain 
 sought for satisfaction in a quiet and sure possession 
 of truths that most concerned us, whilst we let loose 
 our thoughts into the vast ocean of being ; as if all that 
 boundless extent were the natural and undoubted pos- 
 session of our understandings, wherein there was noth- 
 ing exempt from its decisions, or that escaped its com- 
 prehension. Thus men, extending their inquiries be- 
 yond their capacities, and letting their thoughts wander 
 into those depths where they can find no sure footing, 
 it is no wonder that they raise questions and multiply 
 disputes, which, never coming to any clear resolution, 
 are proper only to continue and increase their doubts, 
 and to confirm them at last in perfect scepticism. 
 Whereas, were the capacities of our understandings 
 well considered, the extent of our knowledge once dis- 
 covered, and the horizon found which sets the bounds 
 between the enlightened and dark parts of things 
 between what is and what is not comprehensible by us 
 men would, perhaps with less scruple, acquiesce in 
 the avowed ignorance of the one, and employ their
 
 INTRODUCTION. 23 
 
 thoughts and discourse \vith more advantage and satis- 
 faction in the other. 
 
 8. What " idea " stands for. Thus much I thought 
 necessary to say concerning the occasion of this inquiry 
 into human understanding. But, before I proceed on 
 to what I have thought on this subject, I must here, 
 in the entrance, beg pardon of my reader for the fre- 
 quent use of the word " idea " which he will find in the 
 following treatise. It being that term which, I think, 
 serves best to stand for whatsoever is the object of the 
 understanding when a man thinks, I have used it to 
 express whatever is meant by phantasm, notion, species, 
 or whatever it is which the mind can be employed about 
 in thinking ; and I could not avoid frequently using it. 
 
 I presume it will be easily granted me, that there 
 are such ideas in men's minds. Every one is conscious 
 of them in himself; and men's words and actions will 
 satisfy him that they are in others. 
 
 Our first inquiry, then, shall be, how they come into 
 
 the mind. 
 
 * * * * *
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 *s 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OF IDEAS IN GENERAL, AND THEIR ORIGINAL. 
 
 1. Idea is the object of thinking. Every man be- 
 ing conscious to himself, that he thinks, and that which 
 his mind is applied about, whilst thinking, being the 
 ideas that are there, it is past doubt that men have in 
 their mind several ideas, such as are those expressed 
 by the words, " whiteness, hardness, sweetness, think- 
 ing, motion, man, elephant, army, drunkenness," and 
 others : it is in the first place then to be inquired, How 
 he comes by them? I know it is a received doctrine, 
 that men have native ideas and original characters 
 stamped upon their minds in their very first being. 
 This opinion I have at large examined already; and, 
 I suppose, what I have said in the foregoing book will 
 be much more easily admitted, when I have shown 
 whence the understanding may get all the ideas it has, 
 and by what ways and degrees they may come into the 
 mind ; for which I shall appeal to every one's own ob- 
 servation and experience. 
 
 2. All ideas come from sensation or reflection. 
 Let us then suppose the mind to be, as we say, white 
 paper, void of all characters, without any ideas; how 
 comes it to be furnished? Whence comes it by that 
 vast store, which the busy and boundless fancy of man 
 
 25
 
 26 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 has painted on it with an almost endless variety? 
 Whence has it all the materials of reason and knowl- 
 edge? To this I answer, in one word, From expe- 
 rience ; in that all our knowledge is founded, and from 
 that it ultimately derives itself. Our observation, em- 
 ployed either about external sensible objects, or about 
 the internal operations of our minds, perceived and 
 reflected on by ourselves, is that which supplies our 
 understandings with all the materials of thinking. 
 These two are the fountains of knowledge, from 
 whence all the ideas we have, or can naturally have, do 
 spring. 
 
 3. The object of sensation one source of ideas. 
 First. Our senses, conversant about particular sen- 
 sible objects, do convey into the mind several distinct 
 perceptions of things, according to those various ways 
 wherein those objects do affect them ; and thus we 
 come by those ideas we have of yellow, white, heat, 
 cold, soft, hard, bitter, sweet, and all those which we 
 call sensible qualities ; which when I say the senses con- 
 vey into the mind, I mean, they from external objects 
 convey into the mind what produces there those per- 
 ceptions. This great source of most of the ideas we 
 have, depending wholly upon our senses, and derived 
 by them to the understanding, I call, " sensation." 
 
 4. ' The operations of our minds the other source of 
 them. Secondly. The other fountain, from which 
 experience furnisheth the understanding with ideas, is 
 the perception of the operations of our own minds with- 
 in us, as it is employed about the ideas it has got; 
 which operations when the soul comes to reflect on and 
 consider, do furnish the understanding with another 
 set of ideas which could not be had from things with- 
 out ; and such are perception, thinking, doubting, be-
 
 OF IDEAS IN GENERAL. 2-; 
 
 lieving, reasoning, knowing, willing, and all the dif- 
 ferent actings of our own minds ; which we, being 
 conscious of, and observing in ourselves, do from these 
 receive into our understandings as distinct ideas, as we 
 do from bodies affecting our senses. This source of 
 ideas every man has wholly in himself; and though it 
 be not sense as having nothing to do with external 
 objects, yet it is very like it, and might properly 
 enough be called " internal sense." But as I call the 
 other " sensation," so I call this " reflection," the ideas 
 it affords being such only as the mind gets by reflecting 
 on its own operations within itself. By reflection, 
 then, in the following part of this discourse, I would 
 be understood to mean that notice which the mind 
 takes of its own operations, and the manner of them, 
 by reason whereof there come to be ideas of these 
 operations in the understanding. These two, I say, 
 viz., external material things as the objects of sensa- 
 tion, and the operations of our own minds within as the 
 objects of reflection, are, to me, the only originals from 
 whence all our ideas take their beginnings. The term 
 " operations " here, I use in a large sense, as compre- 
 hending not barely the actions of the mind about its 
 ideas, but some sort of passions arising sometimes from 
 them, such as is the satisfaction or uneasiness arising 
 from any thought. 
 
 5. All our ideas are of the one or the other of these. 
 The understanding seems to me not to have the least 
 glimmering of any ideas which it doth not receive from 
 one of these two. External objects furnish the mind 
 with the ideas of sensible qualities, which are all those 
 different perceptions they produce in us ; and the mind 
 furnishes the understanding with ideas of its own 
 operations.
 
 ?8 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 These, when we have taken a full survey of them, 
 and their several modes, [combinations, and relations,] 
 we shall find to contain all our whole stock of ideas ; 
 and that we have nothing in our minds which did not 
 come in one of these two ways. Let any one examine 
 his own thoughts, and thoroughly search into his un- 
 derstanding, and then let him tell me, whether all the 
 original ideas he has there, are any other than of the 
 objects of his senses, or of the operations of his mind 
 considered as objects of his reflection; and how great 
 a mass of knowledge soever he imagines to be lodged 
 there, he will, upon taking a strict view, see that he has 
 not any idea in his mind but what one of these two 
 have imprinted, though perhaps with infinite variety 
 compounded and enlarged by the understanding, as we 
 shall see hereafter. 
 
 6. Observable in children. He that attentively 
 considers the state of a child at his first coming into 
 the world, will have little reason to think him stored 
 with plenty of ideas that are to be the matter of his 
 future knowledge. It is by degrees he comes to be 
 furnished with them ; and though the ideas of obvious 
 and familiar qualities imprint themselves before the 
 memory begins to 'keep a register of time or order, 
 yet it is often so late before some unusual qualities 
 come in the way, that there are few men that cannot 
 recollect the beginning of their acquaintance with 
 them: and, if it were worth while, no doubt a child 
 might be so ordered as to have but a very few even of 
 the ordinary ideas till he were grown up to a man. 
 But all that are born into the world being surrounded 
 with bodies that perpetually and diversely affect them, 
 variety of ideas, whether care be taken about it or not, 
 are imprinted on the minds of children. Light and
 
 OF IDEAS IN GENERAL. 29 
 
 colours are busy at hand every where when the eye 
 is but open ; sounds and some tangible qualities fail not 
 to solicit their proper sense's, and force an entrance 
 to the mind ; but yet I think it will be granted easily, 
 that if a child were kept in a place where he never saw 
 any other but black and white till he were a man, he 
 would have no more ideas of scarlet or green than he 
 that from his childhood never tasted an oyster or a 
 pine-apple has of those particular relishes. 
 
 7. Men are differently furnished with these accord- 
 ing to the different objects they converse with. Men 
 then come to be furnished with fewer or more simple 
 ideas from without, according as the objects they con- 
 verse with afford greater or less variety ; and from the 
 operations of their minds within, according as they 
 more or less reflect on them. For, though he that con- 
 templates the operations of his mind cannot but have 
 plain and clear ideas of them ; yet, unless he turn his 
 thoughts that way, and considers them attentively, he 
 will no more have clear and distinct ideas of all the 
 operations of his mind, and all that may be observed 
 therein, than he will have all the particular ideas of 
 any landscape, or of the parts and motions of a clock, 
 who will not turn his eyes to it, and with attention 
 heed all the parts of it. The picture or clock may be 
 so placed, that they may come in his way every day; 
 but yet he will have but a confused idea of all the parts 
 they are made of, till he applies himself with attention 
 to consider them each in particular. 
 
 8. Ideas of reflection later, because they need atten- 
 tion. And hence we see the reason why it is pretty 
 late before most children get ideas of the operations 
 of their own minds ; and some have not any very clear 
 or perfect ideas of the greatest part of them all their
 
 30 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 lives : because, though they pass there continually, 
 yet like floating- visions, they make not deep impres- 
 sions enough to leave in the mind, clear, distinct, last- 
 ing ideas, till the understanding turns inwards upon 
 itself, reflects on its own operations, and makes them 
 the objects of its own contemplation. Children, when 
 they come first into it, are surrounded with a world of 
 new things, which, by a constant solicitation of their 
 senses, draw the mind constantly to them, forward to 
 take notice of new, and apt to be delighted with the 
 variety of changing objects. Thus the first years are 
 usually employed and diverted in looking abroad. 
 Men's business in them is to acquaint themselves with 
 what is to be found without ; and so, growing up in a 
 constant attention to outward sensations, seldom make 
 any considerable reflection on what passes within them 
 till they come to be of riper years; and some scarce 
 ever at all. 
 
 9. The soul begins to have ideas when it begins to 
 perceive. To ask, at what time a man has first any 
 ideas, is to ask when he begins to perceive ; having 
 ideas, and perception, being the same thing. I know 
 it is an opinion, that the soul always thinks ; and that 
 it has the actual perception of ideas in itself con- 
 stantly, as long as it exists ; and that actual thinking is 
 as inseparable from the soul, as actual extension is 
 from the body : which if true, to inquire after the be- 
 ginning of a man's ideas is the same as to inquire after 
 the beginning of his soul. For by this account, soul 
 and its ideas, as body and its extension, will begin to 
 exist both at the same time. 
 
 10. The soul thinks not always; for this wants 
 proofs. But whether the soul be supposed to exist 
 antecedent to, or coeval with, or some time after, the
 
 OF IDEAS IN GENERAL. 31 
 
 first rudiments or organization, or the beginnings of 
 life in the body, I leave to be disputed by those who 
 have better thought of that matter. I confess myself 
 to have one of those dull souls that doth not perceive 
 itself always to contemplate ideas ; nor can conceive it 
 any more necessary for the soul always to think, than 
 for the body always to move; the perception of ideas 
 being, as I conceive, to the soul, what motion is to the 
 body: not its essence, but one of its operations; and, 
 therefore, though thinking be supposed never so much 
 the proper action of the soul, yet it is not necessary to 
 suppose that it should be always thinking, always in 
 action: that, perhaps, is the privilege of the infinite 
 Author and Preserver of things, " who never slumbers 
 nor sleeps ;" but it is not competent to any finite being, 
 at least not to the soul of man. We know certainly, by 
 experience, that we sometimes think ; and thence draw 
 this infallible consequence, that there is something in 
 us that has a power to think; but whether that sub- 
 stance perpetually thinks, or no, we can be no farther 
 assured than experience informs us. For to say, that 
 actual thinking is essential to the soul and inseparable 
 from it, is to beg what is in question, and not to prove 
 it by reason ; which is necessary to be done, if it be not 
 a self-evident proposition. But whether this that 
 " the soul always thinks," be a self-evident proposition, 
 that everybody assents to on first hearing, I appeal to 
 mankind. [It is doubted whether I thought all last 
 night, or no ; the question being about a matter of fact, 
 it is begging it to bring as a proof for it an hypothesis 
 which is the very thing in dispute ; by which way one 
 may prove any thing; and it is but supposing that all 
 watches, whilst the balance beats, think, and it is suf- 
 ficiently proved, and past doubt, that my watch thought
 
 32 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 all last night. But he that would not deceive himself 
 ought to build his hypothesis on matter of fact, and 
 make it out by sensible experience, and not presume on 
 matter of fact because of his hypothesis; that is, be- 
 cause he supposes it to be so; which way of proving 
 amounts to this, that I must necessarily think all last 
 night, because another supposes I always think, though 
 I myself cannot perceive that I always do so. 
 
 But men in love with their opinions may not only 
 suppose what is in question, but allege wrong matter 
 of fact. How else could any one make it an inference 
 of mine, that a thing is not, because we are not sensible 
 of it in our sleep ? I do not say, there is no soul in a 
 man because he is not sensible of it in his sleep ; but I 
 do say, he cannot think at any time, waking or sleeping, 
 without being sensible of it. Our being sensible of it 
 is not necessary to any thing but to our thoughts ; and 
 to them it is, and to them it will always be, necessary, 
 till we can think without being conscious of it.] 
 
 ii. It is not akvays conscious of it. I grant that 
 the soul in a waking man is never without thought, be- 
 cause it is the condition of being awake; but whether 
 sleeping without dreaming be not an affection of the 
 whole man, mind as well as body, may be worth a wak- 
 ing man's consideration ; it being hard to conceive that 
 any thing should think and not be conscious of it. If 
 the soul doth think in a sleeping man without being 
 conscious of it, I ask, whether, during such thinking, it 
 has any pleasure or pain, or be capable of happiness or 
 misery? I am sure the man is not, no more than the 
 bed or earth he lies on. For to be happy or miserable 
 without being conscious of it, seems to me utterly in- 
 consistent and impossible. Or if it be possible that the 
 soul can, whilst the body is sleeping, have its thinking,
 
 OF IDEAS IN GENERAL. 33 
 
 enjoyments, and concerns, its pleasure or pain, apart, 
 which the man is not conscious of, nor partakes in, it is 
 certain that Socrates asleep and Socrates awake is not 
 the same person; but his soul when he sleeps, and 
 Socrates the man, consisting of body and soul, when he 
 is waking, are two persons ; since waking Socrates has 
 no knowledge of, or concernment for that happiness or 
 misery of his soul, which it enjoys alone by itself whilst 
 he sleeps, without perceiving any thing of it, no more 
 than he has for the happiness or misery of a man in the 
 Indies, whom he knows not. For if we take wholly 
 away all consciousness of our actions and sensations, 
 especially of pleasure and pain, and the concernment 
 that accompanies it, it will be hard to know wherein to 
 place personal identity. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 OF SIMPLE IDEAS. 
 
 I. Uncompounded appearances. The better to un- 
 derstand the nature, manner, and extent of our knowl- 
 edge, one thing is carefully to be observed concerning 
 the ideas we have ; and that is, that some of them are 
 simple, and some complex. 
 
 Though the qualities that affect our senses are, in 
 the things themselves, so united and blended that there 
 is no separation, no distance between them ; yet it is 
 plain the ideas they produce in the mind enter by the 
 senses simple and unmixed. For though the sight and 
 touch often take in from the same object, at the same 
 time, different ideas as a man sees at once motion and
 
 34 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 colour, the hand feels softness and warmth in the same 
 piece of wax yet the simple ideas thus united in the 
 same subject are as perfectly distinct as those that come 
 in by different senses ; the coldness and hardness which 
 a man feels in a piece of ice being as distinct ideas in 
 the mind as the smell and whiteness of a lily, or as the 
 taste of sugar and smell of a rose : and there is nothing 
 can be plainer to a man than the clear and distinct per- 
 ception he has of those simple ideas ; which, being each 
 in itself uncompounded, contains in it nothing but one 
 uniform appearance or conception in the mind, and is 
 not distinguishable into different ideas. 
 
 2. The mind can neither make nor destroy them. 
 These simple ideas, the materials of all our knowledge, 
 are suggested and furnished to the mind only by those 
 two ways above mentioned, viz., sensation and reflec- 
 tion. When the understanding is once stored with 
 these simple ideas, it has the power to repeat, compare, 
 and unite them, even to an almost infinite variety, and 
 so can make at pleasure new complex ideas. But it is 
 not in the power of the most exalted wit or enlarged 
 understanding, by any quickness or variety of thought, 
 to invent or frame one new simple idea in the mind, 
 not taken in by the ways before mentioned ; nor can any 
 force of the understanding destroy those that are there : 
 the dominion of man in this little world of his own 
 understanding, being much-what the same as it is in 
 the great world of visible things, wherein his power, 
 however managed by art and skill, reaches no farther 
 than to compound and divide the materials that are 
 made to his hand but can do nothing towards the mak- 
 ing the least particle of new matter, or destroying one 
 atom of what is already in being. The same inability 
 will every one find in himself, who shall go about to
 
 OF SIMPLE IDEAS. 35 
 
 fashion in his understanding any simple idea not re- 
 ceived in by his senses from external objects, or by 
 reflection from the operations of his own mind about 
 them. I would have any one try to fancy any taste 
 which had never affected his palate, or frame the idea 
 of a scent he had never smelt ; and when he can do this, 
 I will also conclude, that a blind man hath ideas of 
 colours, and a deaf man true, distinct notions of sounds. 
 3. This is the reason why, though we cannot believe 
 it impossible to God to make a creature with other 
 organs, and more ways to convey into the understand- 
 ing the notice of corporeal things than those five as 
 they are usually counted, which he has given to man ; 
 yet I think it is not possible for any one to imagine 
 any other qualities in bodies, howsoever constituted, 
 whereby they can be taken notice of, besides sounds, 
 tastes, smells, visible and tangible qualities. And had 
 mankind been made with but four senses, the qualities 
 then which are the objects of the fifth sense had been 
 as far from our notice, imagination, and conception, as 
 now any belonging to a sixth, seventh, or eighth sense 
 can possibly be; which, whether yet some other 
 creatures, in some other parts of this vast and stupen- 
 dous universe, may not have, will be a great presump- 
 tion to deny. He that will not set himself proudly at 
 the top of all things, but will consider the immensity of 
 this fabric, and the great variety that is to be found in 
 this little and inconsiderable part of it which he has to 
 do with, may be apt to think, that in other mansions of 
 it there may be other and different intelligible beings, 
 of whose faculties he has as little knowledge or appre- 
 hension, as a worm shut up in one drawer of a cabinet 
 hath of the senses or understanding of a man ; such 
 variety and excellency being suitable to the wisdom and
 
 36 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 power of the Maker. I have here followed the com- 
 mon opinion of man's having but five senses, though 
 perhaps there may be justly counted more; but either 
 supposition serves equally to my present purpose. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF SENSE. 
 
 I. Division of simple ideas. The better to con- 
 ceive the ideas we receive from sensation, it may not 
 be amiss for us to consider them in reference to the dif- 
 ferent ways whereby they make their approaches to our 
 minds, and make themselves perceivable by us. 
 
 First, then, there are some which come into our 
 minds by one sense only. 
 
 Secondly. There are others that convey themselves 
 into the mind by more senses than one. 
 
 Thirdly. Others that are had from reflection only. 
 
 Fourthly. There are some that make themselves 
 way, and are suggested to the mind, by all the ways of 
 sensation and reflection. 
 
 We shall consider them apart under these several 
 heads. 
 
 i. There are some ideas which have admittance 
 only through one sense, which is peculiarly adapted to 
 receive them. Thus light and colours, as white, red, 
 yellow, blue, with their several degrees or shades and 
 mixtures, as green, scarlet, purple, sea-green, and the 
 rest, come in only by the eyes ; all kinds of noises, 
 sounds, and tones, only by the ears ; the several tastes 
 and smells, by the nose and palate. And if these 
 organs, or the nerves which are the conduits to convey 
 them from without to their audience in the brain, the
 
 OF IDEAS OF ONE SENSE. 37 
 
 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 received by the 
 understanding. 
 
 The most considerable of those belonging to the 
 touch are heat, and cold, and solidity ; all the rest 
 consisting amost wholly in the sensible configuration, 
 as smooth and rough ; or else more or less firm ad- 
 hesion of the parts, as hard and soft, tough and brittle 
 are obvious enough. 
 
 2. I think it will be needless to enumerate all the 
 particular simple ideas belonging to each sense. Nor 
 indeed is it possible if we would, there being a great 
 many more of them belonging to most of the senses 
 than we have names for. The variety of smells, which 
 are as many almost, if not more, than species of bodies 
 in the world, do most of them want names. Sweet and 
 stinking commonly serve our turn for these ideas, 
 which in effect is little more than to call them pleasing 
 or displeasing; though the smell of a rose and violet, 
 both sweet, are certainly very distinct ideas. Nor are 
 the different tastes that by our palates we receive ideas 
 of, much better provided with names. Sweet, bitter, 
 sour, harsh, and salt, are almost all the epithets we have 
 to denominate that numberless variety of relishes which 
 are to be found distinct, not only in almost every sort 
 of creatures, but in the different parts of the same 
 plant, fruit, or animal. The same may be said of 
 colours and sounds. I shall therefore, in the account 
 of simple ideas I am here giving, content myself to set 
 down only such as are most material to our present 
 purpose, or are in themselves less apt to be taken notice 
 of, though they are very frequently the ingredients of
 
 38 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 our complex ideas ; amongst which I think I may well 
 account " solidity," which therefore I shall treat of in 
 the next chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IDEA OF SOLIDITY. 
 
 I. We receive this idea from touch. The idea of 
 solidity we receive by our touch ; and it arises from the 
 resistance which we find in body to the entrance of any 
 other body into the place it possesses, till it has left it. 
 There is no idea which we receive more constantly 
 from sensation than solidity. Whether we move or 
 rest, in what posture soever we are, we always feel 
 something under us that supports us, and hinders our 
 farther sinking downwards; and the bodies which we 
 daily handle make us perceive that whilst they remain 
 between them, they do, by an insurmountable force, 
 hinder the approach of the parts of our hands that press 
 them. That which thus hinders the approach of two 
 bodies, when they are moving one towards another, I 
 call " solidity." I will not dispute whether this ac- 
 ceptation 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 " solid- 
 ity," will allow, if not justify, this use of it ; but if any 
 one think it better to call it " impenetrability," he has 
 my consent. Only I have thought the term " solidity " 
 the more proper to express this idea, not only because 
 of its vulgar use in that sense, but also because it car- 
 ries something more of positive in it than " impenetra- 
 bility," which is negative, and is, perhaps, more a con- 
 sequence of solidity than solidity itself. This, of all
 
 OF SOLIDITY. 39 
 
 other, seems the idea most intimately connected with 
 and essential to body, so as nowhere else to be found or 
 imagined but only in matter; and though our senses 
 take no notice of it but in masses of matter, of a bulk 
 sufficient to cause a sensation in us ; yet the mind, hav- 
 ing 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, 
 and finds it inseparably inherent in body, wherever or 
 however modified. 
 
 2. Solidity fills space. This is the idea which be- 
 longs to body, whereby we conceive it to fill space. The 
 idea of which filling of space is, that where we imagine 
 any space taken up by a solid substance, we conceive it 
 so to possess it that it excludes all other solid sub- 
 stances, and will for ever hinder any two other bodies, 
 that move towards one another in a straight line, from 
 coming to touch one another, unless it removes from be- 
 tween them in a line not parallel to that which they 
 move in. This idea of it, the bodies which we ordinary 
 handle sufficiently furnish us with. 
 
 3. Distinct from space. This resistance, whereby 
 it keeps other bodies out of the space which it possesses, 
 is so great that no force, how great soever, can sur- 
 mount it. All the bodies in the world, pressing a drop 
 of water on all sides, will never be able to overcome the 
 resistance which it will make, as soft as it is, to their 
 approaching one another, till it be removed out of their 
 way : whereby our idea of solidity is distinguished both 
 from pure space, which is capable neither of resistance 
 nor motion, and from the ordinary idea of hardness. 
 For a man may conceive two bodies at a distance so as 
 they may approach one another without touching or 
 displacing any solid thing till their superficies come to
 
 40 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 meet ; whereby, I think, we have the clear idea of space 
 without solidity. For (not to go so far as annihilation 
 of any particular body), I ask, whether a man cannot 
 have the idea of the motion of one single body alone, 
 without any other succeeding immediately into its 
 place ? I think it is evident he can : the idea of motion 
 in one body no more including the idea of motion in an- 
 other, than the idea of a square figure in one body in- 
 cludes the idea of a square figure in another. I do not 
 ask, whether bodies do so exist, that the motion of one 
 body cannot really be without the motion of another. 
 To determine this either way is to beg the question for 
 or against a vacuum. But my question is, whether one 
 cannot have the idea of one body moved, whilst others 
 are at rest ? And I think this no one will deny : if so, 
 then the place it deserted gives us the idea of pure 
 space without solidity, whereinto another 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 body, their very disputes about a vacuum 
 plainly demonstrate, as is showed in another place. 
 4. From hardness. Solidity is hereby also differ- 
 enced from hardness, in that solidity consists in re- 
 pletion, and so an utter exclusion of other bodies out of 
 the space it possesses ; but hardness, in a firm cohesion
 
 OF SOLIDITY. 41 
 
 of the parts of matter, making- up masses of a sensible 
 bulk, so that the whole does not easily change its figure. 
 And, indeed, hard and soft are names that we give to 
 things only in relation to the constitutions of our own 
 bodies ; that being generally called " hard " by us which 
 will put us to pain sooner than change figure by the 
 pressure of any part of our bodies; and that, on the 
 contrary, " soft " which changes the situation of its 
 parts upon an easy and unpainful touch. 
 
 But this difficulty of changing the situation of the 
 sensible parts amongst themselves, or of the figure of 
 the whole, gives no more solidity to the hardest body 
 in the world than to the softest ; nor is an adamant one 
 jot more solid than water. For though the two flat 
 sides of two pieces of marble will more easily approach 
 each other, between which there is nothing but water 
 or air, than if there be a diamond between them ; yet it 
 is not that the parts of the diamond are more solid than 
 those of water, or resist more, but because the -parts of 
 water being more easily separable from each other, they 
 will by a side-motion be more easily removed and give 
 way to the approach of two pieces of marble: but if 
 they could be kept from making place by that side- 
 motion, they would eternally hinder the approach of 
 these two pieces of marble as much as the diamond ; 
 and it would be as impossible by any force to surmount 
 their resistance, as to surmount the resistance of the 
 parts of a diamond. The softest body in the world will 
 as invincibly resist the coming together of any two 
 other 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
 
 42 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 keep his hands from approaching one another, may be 
 pleased to make a trial with the air enclosed in a foot- 
 ball. [The experiment I have been told was made at 
 Florence, with a hollow globe of gold filled with water, 
 and exactly closed, 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, finding no room for 
 a nearer approach of its particles within, got to the out- 
 side, where it rose like a dew, and so fell in drops 
 before the sides of the globe could be made to yield to 
 the violent compression of the engine that squeezed it.] 
 5. On solidity depends impulse, resistance, and pro- 
 trusion. By this idea of solidity is the extension of 
 body distinguished from the extension of space : the ex- 
 tension of body being nothing but the cohesion or con- 
 tinuity of solid, separable, movable parts ; and the ex- 
 tension of space, the continuity of unsolid, inseparable, 
 and immovable parts. Upon the solidity of bodies also 
 depends their mutual impulse, resistance, and pro- 
 trusion. Of pure space, then, and solidity, there are 
 several (amongst which I confess myself one) who 
 persuade themselves they have clear and distinct ideas : 
 and that they can think on space without 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, 
 distinct from that of pure space, the idea of something 
 that fills space, that can be protruded by the impulse of
 
 OF SOLIDITY. 43 
 
 other bodies, or resist their motion. If there bs 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, would discourse 
 concerning scarlet-colour with the blind man I men- 
 tion in another place, who fancied that the idea of 
 scarlet was like the sound of a trumpet. 
 
 6. What it is. If any one asks me, what this solid- 
 ity is, I send him to his senses to inform him : let him 
 put a flint or a football between his hands, and then 
 endeavor to join them, and he will know. If he 
 thinks this not a sufficient explication of solidity, 
 what it is, and wherein it consists, I promise to tell 
 him what it is, and wherein it consists, when he tells 
 me what thinking is, or wherein it consists ; or explains 
 to me what extension or motion is, which perhaps 
 seems much easier. The simple ideas we have are such 
 as experience teaches them us; but if, beyond that, 
 we endeavour by words to make them clearer in the 
 mind, we shall succeed no better than if we went about 
 to clear up the darkness of a blind man's mind by talk- 
 ing, 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
 
 44 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 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 by having oc- 
 casion 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 of re-flection 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. 
 
 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 con- 
 sidered, and which are so frequent that every one that 
 pleases may take notice of them in himself, are these 
 two: perception or thinking, and volition or willing. 
 [The power of thinking is called " the understanding," 
 and the power of volition is called " the will ;" and 
 these two powers .or abilities in the mind are denomin- 
 ated " faculties."] Of some of the modes of these 
 simple ideas of reflection, such as are remembrance, 
 discerning, reasoning, judging, knowledge, faith, &c., 
 I shall have occasion to speak hereafter.
 
 IDEAS OF SENSATION AND REFLECTION 45 
 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., pleasure or 
 delight, and its opposite, pain or uneasiness; power, 
 existence, unity. 
 
 2. Delight or uneasiness, one or other of them, 
 join themselves to almost all our ideas both of sensa- 
 tion 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 pleas- 
 ure or pain. By " pleasure " and " pain," I would 
 be understood to signify whatsoever delights or mo- 
 lests us; whether it arises from the thoughts of our 
 minds, or any thing operating on our bodies. For 
 whether we call it " satisfaction, delight, pleasure, hap- 
 piness," &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 com- 
 monly use for those two sorts of ideas. 
 
 3. The infinite wise Author of our being hav- 
 ing given us the power over several parts of our 
 bodies, to move or keep them at rest as we think fit, 
 and also by the motion of them to move ourselves 
 and other contiguous bodies, in which consist all the 
 actions of our body ; having also given a power to our 
 minds, in several instances, to choose amongst its ideas 
 which it will think on, and to pursue the inquiry of this 
 or that subject with consideration and attention
 
 46 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 to excite us to these actions of thinking and motion 
 that we are capable of, has been pleased to join to 
 several thoughts and several sensations a perception of 
 delight. If this were wholly separated from all our 
 outward sensations and inward thoughts, we should 
 have no reason to prefer one thought or action to 
 another, negligence to attention, or motion to rest : and 
 so we should neither stir our bodies, nor employ our 
 minds; but let our thoughts (if I may so call it) run 
 adrift, without any direction or design ; and suffer the 
 ideas of our minds, like unregarded shadows, to make 
 their appearances there as it happened, without at- 
 tending to them: in which state man, however fur- 
 nished with the faculties of understanding and will, 
 would be a very idle, unactive creature, and pass his 
 time only in a lazy, lethargic dream. It has therefore 
 pleased our wise Creator to annex to several objects, 
 and to the ideas which we receive from them, as also to 
 several of our thoughts, a concomitant pleasure, and 
 that in several objects to several degrees, that those 
 faculties which he had endowed us with might not 
 remain wholly idle and unemployed by us. 
 
 4. 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 pro- 
 duced 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, design- 
 ing 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
 
 IDEAS OF SENSATION AND REFLECTION. 47 
 
 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 an- 
 nexed 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 tor- 
 ment; and the most pleasant of all sensible objects, 
 light itself, if there be too much of it, if increased 
 beyond a due proportion to our eyes, causes a very 
 painful sensation : which is wisely and favourably so 
 ordered by nature, that when any object does by the 
 vehemency of its operation disorder the instruments 
 of sensation, whose structures cannot but be very nice 
 and delicate, we might by the pain be warned to with- 
 draw before the organ be quite put out of order, and 
 so be unfitted for its proper functions for the future. 
 The consideration of those objects that produce it 
 may well persuade us, that this is the end or use of 
 pain : for though great light be insufferable to our 
 eyes, yet the highest degree of darkness does not at 
 all disease them, because that causing no disorderly mo- 
 tion 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 tem- 
 per which is necessary to the preservation of life, and 
 the exercise of the several functions of the body, and 
 which consists in a moderate degree of warmth, or, if 
 you please, a motion of the insensible parts of our 
 bodies confined within certain bounds. 
 
 5. Beyond all this, we may find another reason 
 why God hath scattered up and down several degrees 
 of pleasure and pain in all the things that environ and 
 affect us, and blended them together in all that our 
 thoughts and senses have to do with ; that we, find-
 
 48 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 ing imperfection, dissatisfaction, and want of com- 
 plete happiness in all the enjoyments which the crea- 
 tures 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 ever- 
 more." 
 
 6. Pleasure and pain. Though what I have here 
 said may not perhaps make the ideas of pleasure and 
 pain clearer to us than our own experience does, which 
 is the only way that we are capable of having them; 
 yet the consideration of the reason why they are an- 
 nexed to so many other ideas, serving to give us due 
 sentiments of the wisdom and goodness of the Sov- 
 ereign 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 our under- 
 standings. 
 
 7. Existence and unity. Existence and unity are 
 two other ideas that are suggested to the understand- 
 ing by every object without, and every idea within. 
 When ideas are in our minds, we consider them as 
 being actually there, as well as we consider things 
 to be actually without us : which is, that they exist, 
 or have existence: and whatever we can consider as 
 one thing, whether a real being or idea, suggests to 
 the understanding the idea of unity. 
 
 8. Power. Power also is another of those simple 
 ideas which we receive from sensation and reflection. 
 For, observing in ourselves that we do and can think, 
 and that we can at pleasure move several parts of our 
 bodies which were at rest ; the effects also that natural 
 bodies are able to produce in one another occurring
 
 IDEAS OF SENSATION AND REFLECTION. 49 
 
 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 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 al- 
 ways, whilst we are awake or have any thought, pass- 
 ing in train, one going and another coming without 
 intermission. 
 
 10. Simple ideas the materials of all our knowl- 
 edge. 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 of which it receives only by the 
 two forementioned ways of sensation and reflection. 
 
 Nor let any one think these too narrow bounds for 
 the capacious mind of man to expatiate in, which takes 
 its flight 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 excursions into that incomprehensible inane. 
 I grant all this ; but desire any one to assign any sim- 
 ple idea which is not received from one of those 
 inlets before mentioned, or any complex idea not 
 made out of those simple ones. Nor will it be so 
 strange to think these few simple ideas sufficient to 
 employ the quickest thought or largest capacity, and 
 to furnish the materials of all that various knowledge 
 and more various fancies and opinions of all mankind, 
 if we consider how many words may be made out of 
 the various composition of twenty-four letters ; or, if, 
 going one step farther, we will but reflect on the va-
 
 So CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 riety 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 extension alone afford 
 the mathematicians! 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SOME FARTHER CONSIDERATIONS CONCERNING OUR 
 SIMPLE IDEAS OF SENSATION. 
 
 I. Positive ideas from privative causes. Concern- 
 ing the simple ideas of sensation it is to be consid- 
 ered, that whatsoever is so constituted in nature as 
 to be able by affecting our senses to cause any per- 
 ception in the mind, doth thereby produce in the un- 
 derstanding a simple idea; which, whatever be the 
 external cause of it, when it comes to be taken notice 
 of by our discerning faculty, it is by the mind looked 
 on and considered there to be a real positive idea in 
 the understanding, as much as any other whatsoever; 
 though perhaps the cause of it be but a privation in 
 the subject. 
 
 2. Thus the ideas of heat and cold, light and dark- 
 ness, white and black, motion and rest, are equally 
 clear arid positive ideas in the mind; though perhaps 
 some of the causes which produce them are barely 
 privations in those subjects from whence our senses 
 derive those ideas. These the understanding, in its 
 view of them, considers all as distinct positive ideas 
 without taking notice of the causes that produce 
 them; which is an inquiry not belonging to the idea 
 as it is in the understanding, but to the nature of the 
 things existing without us. These are two very differ-
 
 SIMPLE IDEAS OF SENSATION. 51 
 
 ent things, and carefully to be distinguished; it being 
 one thing to perceive and know the idea of white or 
 black, and quite another to examine what kind of 
 particles they must be, and how ranged in the super- 
 ficies, to make any object appear white or black. 
 
 3. A painter or dyer who never inquired into 
 their causes, hath the ideas of white and black and 
 other colours as clearly, perfectly, and distinctly in 
 his understanding, and perhaps more distinctly than 
 the philosopher who hath busied himself in considering 
 their natures, and thinks he knows how far either 
 of them is in its cause positive or privative; 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 per- 
 ception, 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 ani- 
 mal spirits, variously agitated by external objects, 
 the abatement of any former motion must as neces- 
 sarily 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 not I will not here 
 determine, but appeal to every one's own experience, 
 whether the shadow of a man, though it consists of 
 nothing but the absence of light (and the more the 
 absence of light is, the more discernible is the shad- 
 ow), does not, when a man looks on it, cause as 
 clear and positive an idea in his mind as a man himself,
 
 52 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 though covered over with clear sunshine! And the 
 picture of a shadow is a positive thing. Indeed, we 
 have negative names, [which stand not directly for 
 positive ideas, but for their absence, such as insipid, 
 silence, nihil, &c., which words denote positive ideas, 
 v. g., taste, sound, being, with a signification of their 
 absence.] 
 
 6. Positive ideas from privative causes. And thus 
 one may truly be said to see darkness. For, suppos- 
 ing a hole perfectly dark, from whence no light is re- 
 flected, it is certain one may see the figure of it, or it 
 may be painted ; or whether the ink I write with make 
 any other idea, is a question. The privative causes 
 I have here assigned of positive ideas are according to 
 the common opinion; but, in truth, it will be hard to 
 determine whether there be really any ideas from a 
 privative cause, till it be determined whether rest be 
 any more a privation than motion. 
 
 7. Ideas in the mind, qualities in bodies. To dis- 
 cover 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 perceptions in us ; that so 
 we may not think (as perhaps usually is done) that 
 they are exactly the images and resemblances of some- 
 thing inherent in the subject; most of those of sensa- 
 tion being in the mind no more the likeness of some- 
 thing existing without us than the names that stand 
 for them are the likeness of our ideas, which yet upon 
 hearing they are apt to excite in us. 
 
 8. Whatsoever the mind perceives in itself, or is 
 the immediate object of perception, thought, or un- 
 derstanding, that I call " idea ; " and the power to
 
 SIMPLE IDEAS OF SENSATION. 53 
 
 produce any idea in our mind, I call " quality " of 
 the subject wherein that power is. Thus a snowball 
 having the power to produce in us the ideas of white, 
 cold, and round, the powers to produce those ideas in 
 us as they are in the snowball, I call " qualities ; " and 
 as they are sensations or perceptions in our under- 
 standings, I call them " ideas ;" which ideas, if I speak 
 of them sometimes as in the things themselves, I 
 would be understood to mean those qualities in the 
 objects which produce them in us. 
 
 9. Primary qualities. [Qualities thus considered 
 in bodies are, First, such as are utterly inseparable 
 from the body, in what estate soever it be ;] and such as, 
 in all the alterations and changes it suffers, all the force 
 can be used upon it, it constantly keeps ; and such as 
 sense constantly finds in every particle of matter which 
 has bulk enough to be perceived, and the mind finds in- 
 separable from every particle of matter, though less 
 than to make itself singly 6e perceived by our senses : 
 v. g., take a grain of wheat, divide it into two parts, 
 each part has still solidity, extension, figure, and mo- 
 bility; divide it again, and it retains still the same 
 qualities : and so divide it on till the parts become 
 insensible, they must retain still each of them all those 
 qualities. For, division (which is all that a mill or 
 pestle or any other body does upon another, in reduc- 
 ing it to insensible parts) can never take away either 
 solidity, extension, figure, or mobility from any 
 body, but only makes two or more distinct separate 
 masses of matter of that which was but one before ; 
 all which distinct masses, reckoned as so many distinct 
 bodies, after division, make a certain number. [These 
 I call original or primary qualities of body, which I 
 think we may observe to produce simple ideas in us,
 
 54 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 viz., solidity, extension, figure, motion or rest, and 
 number. 
 
 10. Secondary qualities. Secondly. Such quali- 
 ties, which in truth are nothing in the objects them- 
 selves, 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 col- 
 ours, sounds, tastes, &c., these I call secondary quali- 
 ties. 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 com- 
 ply with the common way of speaking, call qualities, 
 but, for distinction, secondary qualities. For, the 
 power in fire to produce a new colour or consistency in 
 wax or clay, by its primary qualities, is as much a 
 quality in fire as the power it has to produce in me a 
 new idea or sensation of warmth or burning, which 
 I felt not before, by the same primary qualities, viz., 
 the bulk, texture, and motion of its insensible parts.] 
 
 n. [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 per- 
 ceive these original qualities in such of them as singly 
 fall under our senses, it is evident that some motion 
 must be thence continued by our nerves, or animal 
 spirits, by some parts of our bodies, to the brains or the 
 seat of sensation, there to produce in our minds the 
 particular ideas we have of them. And since the ex- 
 tension, figure, number, and motion of bodies of an 
 observable bigness, may be perceived at a distance by 
 the sight, it is evident some singly imperceptible bod-
 
 SIMPLE IDEAS OF SENSATION. 55 
 
 ies 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 operation of insensible 
 particles on our senses. For it being manifest that 
 there are bodies, and good store of bodies, each where- 
 of are so small that we cannot by any of our senses 
 discover either their bulk, figure, or motion (as is evi- 
 dent in the particles of the air and water, and other 
 extremely smaller than those, perhaps as much smaller 
 than the particles of air or water as the particles of 
 air or water are smaller than peas or hailstones) : let 
 us suppose at present that the different motions and 
 figures, bulk and number, of such particles, effecting 
 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 im- 
 pulse of such insensible particles of matter of peculiar 
 figures and bulks, and in different degrees and modi- 
 fications of their motions, causes the ideas of the 
 blue colour and sweet scent of that flower to be pro- 
 duced in our minds; it being no more impossible to 
 conceive that God should annex such ideas to such 
 motions, with which they have no similitude, than that 
 he should annex the idea of pain to the motion of a 
 piece of steel dividing our flesh, with which the idea 
 hath no resemblance. 
 
 14. What I have said concerning colours and 
 smells may be understood also of tastes and sounds, 
 and other the like sensible qualities ; which, whatever 
 reality we by mistake attribute to them, are in
 
 56 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 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.] 
 
 15. Ideas of primary qualities are resemblances; 
 of secondary, not. From whence I think it is easy 
 to draw this observation, that the ideas of primary 
 qualities of bodies are resemblances of them, and their 
 patterns do really exist in the bodies themselves; but 
 the ideas produced in us by these secondary qualities 
 have no resemblance of them at all. There is nothing 
 like our ideas existing in the bodies themselves. They 
 are, in the bodies we denominate from them, only a 
 power to produce those sensations in us ; and what is 
 sweet, blue, or warm in idea, is but the certain bulk, 
 figure, and motion of the insensible parts in the bodies 
 themselves, which we call so. 
 
 16. Flame is denominated hot and light; snow, 
 white and cold; and manna, white and siveet, from 
 the ideas they produce in us, which qualities are com- 
 monly thought to be the same in those bodies that 
 those ideas are in us, the one the perfect resemblance 
 of the other, as they are in a mirror ; and it would by 
 most men be judged very extravagant, if one should 
 say otherwise. And yet he that will consider that the 
 same fire that at one distance produces in us the sen- 
 sation of warmth, does at a nearer approach produce 
 in us the far different sensation of pain, ought to 
 bethink himself what reason he has to say, that this 
 idea of warmth which was produced in him by the 
 fire, is actually in the fire, and his idea of pain which 
 the same fire produced in him the same way is not in 
 the fire. Why is whiteness and coldness in snow and 
 pain not, when it produces the one and the other idea
 
 SIMPLE IDEAS OF SENSATION. 57 
 
 in us, and can do neither but by the bulk, figure, num- 
 ber, and motion of its solid parts? 
 
 17. The particular bulk, number, figure, and mo- 
 tion 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 sensa- 
 tion of them ; let not the eyes see light or colours, nor 
 the ears hear sounds ; let the palate not taste, nor the 
 nose smell ; and all colours, tastes, odours, and sounds, 
 as they are such particular ideas, vanish and cease, 
 and are reduced to their causes, i. e., bulk, figure, and 
 motion of parts. 
 
 18. 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 sick- 
 ness, and sometimes of acute pains or gripings, in us. 
 That these ideas of sickness and pain are not in the 
 manna, but effects of its operations on us, and are 
 nowhere when we feel them not; this also every one 
 readily agrees to. And yet men are hardly to be 
 brought to think that sweetness and whiteness are 
 not really in manna, which are but the effects of the 
 operations of manna by the motion, size, and figure of
 
 58 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 its particles on the eyes and palate ; as the pain and 
 sickness caused by manna, are confessedly nothing 
 but the effects of its operations on the stomach and 
 guts by the size, motion, and figure of its insensible 
 parts (for by nothing else can a body operate, as has 
 been proved) : as if it could not operate on the eyes 
 and palate, and thereby produce in the mind particu- 
 lar 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 pro- 
 duced 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 
 nowhere when they are not felt : and yet the sweetness 
 and whiteness, effects of the same manna on other 
 parts of the body, by ways equally as unknown, should 
 be thought to exist in the manna, when they are not 
 .seen nor tasted would need some reason to explain. 
 
 19. Ideas of primary qualities are resemblances; of 
 secondary, not. Let us consider the red and white 
 colours in porphyry ; hinder light but 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 absence of light, and that those 
 ideas of whiteness and redness are really in porphyry 
 in the light, when it is plain it has no colour in the 
 dark ? It has indeed such a configuration of particles, 
 both night and day, as are apt, by the rays of light
 
 SIMPLE IDEAS OF SENSATION. 59 
 
 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 impos- 
 sible 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 noth- 
 ing 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 sensation 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
 
 60 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 different sensations of heat and cold that depend there- 
 on. 
 
 22. I have, in what just goes before, been engaged 
 in physical inquiries a little farther than perhaps I 
 intended. But it being necessary to make the nature 
 of sensation a little understood, and to make the differ- 
 ence between the qualities in bodies, and the ideas pro- 
 duced by them in the mind, to be distinctly conceived, 
 without which it were impossible to discourse intel- 
 ligibly of them, I hope I shall be pardoned this little 
 excursion into natural philosophy, it being necessary 
 in our present inquiry to distinguish the primary and 
 real qualities of bodies, which are always in them, 
 (viz., solidity, extension, figure, number, and motion 
 or rest and are sometimes perceived by us, viz., when 
 the bodies they are in are big enough singly to be 
 discerned,) from those secondary and imputed quali- 
 ties, which are but the powers of several combinations 
 of those primary ones, when they operate without be- 
 ing distinctly discerned; whereby we also may come 
 to know what ideas are, and what are not, resem- 
 blances of something really existing in the bodies we 
 denominate from them. 
 
 23. Three sorts of qualities in bodies. The quali- 
 ties then that are in bodies, rightly considered, are of 
 three sorts: 
 
 First. The bulk, figure, number, situation, and mo- 
 tion or rest of their solid parts ; those are in them, 
 whether we perceive them or not ; and when they are 
 of that size that we can discover them, we have by 
 these ideas 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 rea- 
 son of its insensible primary qualities, to operate after
 
 SIMPLE IDEAS OF SENSATION. 61 
 
 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 rea- 
 son of the particular constitution of its primary quali- 
 ties, 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 are only powers to act differently 
 upon other things, which powers result from the dif- 
 ferent modifications of those primary qualities. 
 
 24. The first are resemblances; the second thought 
 resemblances, but are not; the third neither are, nor 
 are thought so. But though these two latter sorts of 
 qualities are powers barely, and nothing but powers, 
 relating to several other bodies, and resulting from 
 the different modifications of the original qualities, 
 yet they are generally otherwise thought of. For the 
 second sort, viz., the powers to produce several ideas 
 in us by our senses, are looked upon as real qualities 
 in the things thus affecting us ; but the third sort are 
 called and esteemed barely powers. V. g., the idea of 
 heat or light which we receive by our eyes or touch 
 from the sun, are commonly thought real qualities 
 existing in the sun, and something more than mere 
 powers in it. But when we consider the sun in ref-
 
 62 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 erence to wax, which it melts or blanches, we look up- 
 on the whiteness and softness produced in the wax, 
 not as qualities in the sun, but effects produced by 
 powers in it: whereas, if rightly considered, these 
 qualities of light and warmth, which are perceptions 
 in me when I am warmed or enlightened by the sun, 
 are no otherwise in the sun than the changes made 
 in the wax, when it is blanched or melted, are in the 
 sun. They are all of them equally powers in the sun, 
 depending on its primary qualities, whereby it is able 
 in /the one case so to alter the bulk, figure, texture, 
 or motion of some of the insensible parts of my eyes 
 or hands as thereby to produce in me the idea of light 
 or heat, and in the other it is able so to alter the bulk, 
 figure, texture, or motion of the insensible parts of the 
 wax as to make them fit to produce in me the distinct 
 ideas of white and fluid. 
 
 25. 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 ap- 
 pear not, to our senses, to operate in their production, 
 and with which they have not any apparent congruity, 
 or conceivable connexion. Hence it is that we are so 
 forward to imagine that those ideas are the resem- 
 blances of something really existing in the objects 
 themselves, since sensation discovers nothing of bulk, 
 figure, or motion of parts, in their production, nor 
 can reason show how bodies by their bulk, figure, and 
 motion, should produce in the mind the ideas of blue 
 or yellow, &c. But, in the other case, in the opera- 
 tions of bodies changing the qualities one of another,
 
 SIMPLE IDEAS OF SENSATION. 63 
 
 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 per- 
 ception and resemblance of such a quality in the sun, 
 yet when we see wax, or a fair face, receive change of 
 colour from the sun, we cannot imagine that to the 
 perception or resemblance 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 ex- 
 ternal objects, we forwardly enough conclude the pro- 
 duction of any sensible quality in any subject to be 
 an effect of bare power, and not the communication 
 of any quality which was really in the efficient, when 
 we find no such sensible quality in the thing that 
 produced it. But our senses not being able to dis- 
 cover any unlikeness between the idea produced in us 
 and the quality of the object producing it, we are apt 
 to imagine that our ideas are resemblances of some- 
 thing in the objects, and not the effects of certain 
 powers placed in the modification of their primary 
 qualities, with which primary qualities the ideas pro- 
 duced in us have no resemblance. 
 
 26. Secondary qualities twofold: first, immediately 
 perceivable; secondly, mediately perceivable. To con- 
 clude: Beside those before-mentioned primary quali- 
 ties in bodies, viz., bulk, figure, extension, number, and 
 motion of their solid parts, all the rest whereby we 
 take notice of bodies and distinguish them one from 
 another, are nothing else but several powers in them 
 depending on those primary qualities, whereby they 
 are fitted, either by immediately operating on our bod-
 
 64 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 ies, to produce several different ideas in us; or else 
 by operating on other bodies, so to change their pri- 
 mary qualities as to render them capable of produc- 
 ing ideas in us different from what before they did. 
 The former of these, I think, may be called secondary 
 qualities immediately perceivable; the latter, secondary 
 qualities mediately perceivable. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 OF PERCEPTION. 
 
 1. Perception the first simple idea of reflection. 
 Perception, as it is the first faculty of the mind exer- 
 cised 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 pro- 
 priety of the English tongue, signifies that sort of 
 operation of the mind about its ideas wherein the 
 mind is active; where it, with some degree of volun- 
 tary attention, considers any thing: for in bare, naked 
 perception, the mind is, for the most part, only passive, 
 and what it perceives it cannot avoid perceiving. 
 
 2. Is only when the mind receives the impression. 
 What perception is, every one will know better by 
 reflecting on what he does himself, when he sees, 
 hears, feels, &c., or thinks, than by any discourse of 
 
 .mine. Whoever reflects on what passes in his own 
 mind, cannot miss it; and if he does not reflect, all 
 the words in the world cannot make him have any 
 notion of it. 
 
 3. 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
 
 OF PERCEPTION. 65 
 
 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 percep- 
 tion. 
 
 4. How often may a man observe in himself, that 
 whilst his mind is intently employed in the contempla- 
 tion 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 pro- 
 ducing the idea of sound! A sufficient impulse there 
 may be on the organ ; but it not reaching the observa- 
 tion 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 de- 
 fect 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 on the 
 mind, there follows no sensation. So that wherever 
 there is sense or perception, there some idea is ac- 
 tually produced, and present in the understanding. 
 
 5. Children, though they may have ideas in the 
 womb, have none innate. Therefore, I doubt not but 
 children, by the exercise of their senses about objects 
 that affect them in the womb, receive some few ideas 
 before they are born, as the unavoidable effects either 
 of the bodies that environ them, or else of those wants 
 or diseases they suffer; amongst which (if one may 
 conjecture concerning things not very capable of ex-
 
 66 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 amination) I think the ideas of hunger and warmth 
 are two, which probably are some of the first that 
 children have, and which they scarce ever part with 
 again. 
 
 6. But though it be reasonable to imagine that 
 children receive some ideas before they come into 
 the world, yet these simple ideas are far from those 
 innate principles which some contend for, and we 
 above have rejected. These here mentioned, being the 
 effects of sensation, are only from some affections 
 of the body which happen to them there, and so de- 
 pend 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 im- 
 pressed 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, 
 subservient to the necessities of their life and being 
 there; so after they are born those ideas are the 
 earliest imprinted which happen to be the sensible 
 qualities which first occur to them: amongst which, 
 light is not the least considerable, nor of the weakest 
 efficacy. And how covetous the mind is to be fur- 
 nished with all such ideas as have no pain accom- 
 panying them, may be a little guessed by what is ob- 
 servable 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
 
 OF PERCEPTION. 67 
 
 familiar at first being various, according to the divers 
 circumstances of children's first entertainment in the 
 world, the order wherein the several ideas come at first 
 into the mind is very various and uncertain also, nei- 
 ther is it much material to know it. 
 
 8. Ideas of sensation often changed by the judg- 
 ment. We are farther to consider concerning percep- 
 tion, 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, ala- 
 baster, or jet, it is certain that the idea thereby im- 
 printed in our mind is of a flat circle variously shad- 
 owed, with several degrees of light and brightness 
 coming to our eyes. But we having by use been accus- 
 tomed to perceive what kind of appearance convex 
 bodies are wont to make in us, what alterations are 
 made in the reflections of light by the difference of 
 the sensible figures of bodies, the judgment presently, 
 by an habitual custom, alters the appearances into 
 their causes ; so that, from that which truly is variety 
 of shadow or colour collecting the figure, it makes it 
 pass for a mark of figure, and frames to itself the 
 perception of a convex figure and an uniform colour; 
 when the idea we receive from thence is only a plane 
 variously coloured, as is evident in painting. [To 
 which purpose I shall here insert a problem of that 
 very ingenious and studious promoter of real knowl- 
 edge, 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 distinguish between 
 a cube and a sphere of the same metal, and nighly 
 of the same bigness, so as to tell, when he felt one and
 
 68 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 the other, which is the cube, which the sphere. Sup- 
 pose then the cube and sphere placed on a table, and 
 the blind man to be made to see; quaere, Whether by 
 his sight, before he touched them, he could now dis- 
 tinguish and tell which is the globe, which the 
 cube?" To which the acute and judicious proposer 
 answers : " Not. For though he has obtained the ex- 
 perience of how a globe, how a cube, affects his 
 touch ; yet he has not yet obtained the experience, that 
 what affects his touch so or so, must affect his sight 
 so or so ; or that a protuberant angle in the cube, that 
 pressed his hand unequally, shall appear to his eye 
 as it does in the cube." I agree with this thinking 
 gentleman, whom I am proud to call my friend, in 
 his answer to this 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 un- 
 erringly name them by his touch, and certainly dis- 
 tinguish 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 has 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, he hardly ever met with one that at first gave 
 the answer to it which he thinks true, till by hearing 
 his reasons they were convinced.] 
 
 9. 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
 
 OF PERCEPTION. 69 
 
 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 objects, viz., light 
 and colours; we bring ourselves by use to judge of 
 the one by the dther. This, in many cases, by a settled 
 habit in things whereof we have frequent experience, 
 is performed so constantly and so quick, that we take 
 that for the perception of our sensation which is an 
 idea formed by our judgment ; so that one, viz., that 
 of sensation, serves only to excite the other, and is 
 scarce taken notice of itself; as a man who reads or 
 hears with attention and understanding, takes little 
 notice of the characters or sounds, but of the ideas 
 that are excited in him by them. 
 
 10. Nor need we wonder that this is done with so 
 little notice, if we consider how very quick the actions 
 of the mind are performed : for as itself is thought to 
 take up no space, to have no extension, so its actions 
 seem to require no time, but many of them seem to 
 be crowded into an instant. I speak this in compari- 
 son 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 in- 
 stant, 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! Sec- 
 ondly. 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 cus- 
 tom of doing, makes them often pass in us without our 
 notice. Habits, especially such as are begun very 
 early, come at last to produce actions in us which 
 often escape our observation. How frequently do we
 
 70 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 in a day cover our eyes with our eye-lids, without per- 
 ceiving that we are at all in the dark! Men, that by 
 custom have got the use of a by-word, do almost in 
 every sentence pronounce sounds which, though taken 
 notice of by others, they themselves neither hear nor 
 observe. And therefore it is not so strange that our 
 mind should often change the idea of its sensation into 
 that of its judgment, and make one serve only to 
 excite the other, without our taking notice of it. 
 
 11. Perception puts the difference between animals 
 and inferior beings. This faculty of perception 
 seems to me to be that which puts the distinction be- 
 twixt the animal kingdom and the inferior parts of 
 nature. For however vegetables have, many of them, 
 some degrees of motion, and, upon the different appli- 
 cation of other bodies to them, do very briskly alter 
 their figures and motions, and so have obtained the 
 name of " sensitive plants " from a motion which has 
 some resemblance to that which in animals follows 
 upon sensation ; yet I suppose it is all bare mechanism, 
 and no otherwise produced than the turning of a wild 
 oat-beard by the insinuation of the particles of mois- 
 ture, 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 sensations which is in other 
 animals: but yet it is sufficient for and wisely adapted 
 to the state and condition of that sort of animals who 
 are thus made ; so that the wisdom and goodness of
 
 OF PERCEPTION. 71 
 
 . 
 
 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 may, I think, from the make of an oyster 
 or cockle, reasonably conclude that it has not so many 
 nor so quick senses as a man, or several other animals ; 
 nor, if it had, would it, in that state and incapacity of 
 transferring itself from one place to another, be bet- 
 tered by them. What good would sight and hearing 
 do to a creature that cannot move itself to or from 
 the objects wherein at a distance it perceives good or 
 evil? And would not quickness of sensation be an 
 inconvenience to an animal that must lie still where 
 chance has once placed it, and there receive the afflux 
 of colder or warmer, clean or foul, water, as it hap- 
 pens 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 de- 
 stroying 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 faculities 
 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
 
 72 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 been, in any intellectual perfections, between him and 
 the lowest degree of animals. , 
 
 15. Perception the inlet of knowledge. Percep- 
 tion, then, being the first step and degree towards 
 knowledge, and the inlet of all the materials of it, the 
 fewer senses any man as well as any other creature 
 hath, and the fewer and duller the impressions are 
 that are made by them, and the duller the faculties 
 are that are employed about them, the more remote 
 are they from that knowledge whch is to be found in 
 some men. But this, being in great variety of degrees 
 (as may be perceived amongst men), cannot certainly 
 be discovered in the several species of animals, much 
 less in their particular individuals. It suffices me only 
 to have remarked here, that perception is the first 
 operation of all our intellectual faculties, and the inlet 
 of all knowledge into our minds. And I am apt, too, 
 to imagine that it is perception in the lowest degree of 
 it which puts the boundaries between animals and the 
 inferior ranks of creatures. But this I mention only 
 as my conjecture by the by, it being indifferent to the 
 matter in hand which way the learned shall determine 
 of it 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 OF RETENTION. 
 
 I. Contemplation. The next faculty of the mind, 
 whereby it makes a farther progress towards knowl- 
 edge, is that which I call retention or the keeping of 
 those simple ideas which from sensation or reflection 
 it hath received. This is done two ways. First, by 
 keeping the idea which is brought into it for some
 
 OF RETENTION. , 73 
 
 time actually in view, which is called contemplation. 
 
 2. Memory. The other way of retention is the 
 power to revive again in our minds those ideas which 
 after imprinting have disappeared, or have been as it 
 were laid aside out of sight; and thus we do, when 
 we conceive heat or light, yellow or sweet, the object 
 being removed. This is memory, which is, as it were, 
 the storehouse of our ideas. For the narrow mind of 
 man, not being capable of having many ideas under 
 view and consideration at once, it was necessary to 
 have a repository to lay up those ideas, which at an- 
 other time it might have use of. [But our ideas be- 
 ing nothing but actual perceptions in the mind, which 
 cease to be any thing when there is no percep- 
 tion of them, this laying up of our ideas in the re- 
 pository of the memory signifies no more but this, 
 that the mind has a power, in many cases, to revive 
 perceptions which it has once had, with this additional 
 perception annexed to them, that it has had them 
 before. And in this sense it is that our ideas are said 
 to be in our memories, when indeed they are actually 
 nowhere, but only there is an ability in the mind when 
 it will to revive them again, and, as it were, paint them 
 anew on itself, though some with more, some with 
 less, difficulty; some more lively, and others more 
 obscurely.] And thus it is by the assistance of this 
 faculty that we are said to have all those ideas in our 
 understandings, which though we do not actually con- 
 template, yet we can bring in sight, and make appear 
 again and be the objects of our thoughts, without the 
 help of those sensible qualities which first imprinted 
 them there. 
 
 3. Attention, repetition, pleasure, and pain fix 
 ideas. Attention and repetition help much to the
 
 74 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 fixing any ideas in the memory ; but those which nat- 
 urally at first make the deepest and most lasting im- 
 pression, are those which are accompanied with pleas- 
 ure or pain. The great business of the senses being to 
 make us take notice of what hurts or advantages the 
 body, it is wisely ordered by nature (as has been 
 shown) that pain should accompany the reception of 
 several ideas ; which, supplying the place of considera- 
 tion and reasoning in children, and acting quicker 
 than consideration in grown men, makes both the 
 old and young avoid painful objects with that haste 
 which is necessary for their preservation, and in both 
 settles in the memory a caution for the future. 
 
 4. Ideas fade in the memory. Concerning the 
 several degrees of lasting wherewith ideas are im- 
 printed 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 never had been there. 
 
 5. Thus many of those ideas which were produced 
 in the minds of children in the beginning of their sen- 
 sation (some of which perhaps, as of some pleasures
 
 - OF RETENTION. 75 
 
 and pains, were before they were born, and others in 
 their infancy), if in the future course of their lives 
 they are not repeated again, are quite lost, without the 
 least glimpse remaining of them. This may be ob- 
 served in those who by some mischance have lost their 
 sight when they were very young, in whom the ideas 
 of colours, having been but slightly taken notice of, 
 and ceasing to be repeated, do quite wear out; so that 
 some years after there is no more notion nor memory 
 of colours left in their minds, than in those of people 
 born blind. The memory of some men, it is true, is 
 very tenacious, even to a miracle; but yet there seems 
 to be a constant decay of all our ideas, even of those 
 which are struck deepest, and in minds the most re- 
 tentive ; so that if they be not sometimes renewed by 
 repeated exercise of the senses, or reflection on those 
 kinds of objects which at first occasioned them, the 
 print wears out, and at last there remains nothing to 
 be seen. Thus the ideas, as well as children, of our 
 youth often die before us ; and our minds represent 
 to us those tombs to which we are approaching ; where 
 though the brass and marble remain, yet the inscrip- 
 tions are effaced by time, and the imagery moulders 
 away. The pictures drawn in our minds are laid in 
 fading colours ; and if not sometimes refreshed, vanish 
 and disappear. How much the constitution of our 
 bodies, [and the make of our animal spirits,] are con- 
 cerned in this ; and whether the temper of the brain 
 makes this difference, that in some it retains the char- 
 acters drawn on it like marble, in others like free- 
 stone, and in others little better than sand, I 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
 
 76 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 the mind of all its ideas, and the flames of a fever in 
 a few days calcine all those images to dust and con- 
 fusion, which seemed to be as lasting as if graved in 
 marble. 
 
 6. Constantly repeated ideas can scarce be lost. 
 But concerning the ideas themselves it is easy to re- 
 mark, that those that are oftenest refreshed (amongst 
 which are those that are conveyed into the mind by 
 more ways than one) by a frequent return of the 
 objects or actions that produce them, fix themselves 
 best in the memory, and remain clearest and longest 
 there : and therefore those which are of the original 
 qualities of bodies, viz., solidity, extension, figure, mo- 
 tion, 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 view- 
 ing again the ideas that are lodged in the memory, 
 the mind is oftentimes more than barely passive; the 
 appearances of those dormant pictures depending 
 sometimes on the will. The mind very often sets itself 
 on work in search of some hidden idea, and turns, as 
 it were, the eye of the soul upon it ; though sometimes 
 too they start up in our minds of their own accord, 
 and offer themselves to the understanding, and very 
 often are roused and tumbled out of their dark cells 
 into open daylight by turbulent and tempestuous pas- 
 sions ; our affections bringing ideas to our memory 
 which had otherwise lain quiet and unregarded. [This
 
 OF RETENTION. 77 
 
 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 " im- 
 ports) none of them new ones, but also that the mind 
 takes notice of them as of a former impression, and 
 renews its acquaintance with them as with ideas it had 
 known before. So that though ideas formerly im- 
 printed are not all constantly in view, yet in remem- 
 brance 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 slow- 
 ness. Memory, in an intellectual creature, is neces- 
 sary in the next degree to perception. It is of so 
 great moment, that where it is wanting all the rest 
 of our faculities are in a great measure useless ; and 
 we in our thoughts, reasonings, and knowledge, could 
 not proceed beyond present objects, were it not for the 
 assistance of our memories, wherein there may be two 
 defects. 
 
 First, That it loses the idea quite; and so far it 
 produces perfect ignorance. For since we can know 
 nothing further than we have the idea of it, when that 
 is gone we are in perfect ignorance. 
 
 Secondly, That it moves slowly, and retrieves not 
 the ideas that it has, and are laid up in store, quick 
 enough to serve the mind upon occasions. This, if it 
 be to a great degree, is stupidity ; and he who through 
 this default in his memory has not the ideas that are 
 really preserved there ready at hand when need and 
 occasion calls for them, were almost as good be with- 
 out 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
 
 78 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 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, con- 
 sists that which we call invention, fancy, and quick- 
 ness of parts. 
 
 9. [These are defects we may observe in the mem- 
 ory of one man compared with another. There is an- 
 other defect which we may conceive to be in the 
 memory of man in general, compared with some 'su- 
 perior 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 perfec- 
 tions in what proportion 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 noth- 
 ing of what he had done, read, or thought in any part 
 of his rational age. This is a privilege so little known 
 to most men, that it seems almost incredible to those 
 who, after the ordinary way, measure all others by 
 themselves ; but yet, when considered, may help us 
 to enlarge our thoughts towards greater perfections of 
 it in superior ranks of spirits. For this of M. Pascal 
 was still with the narrowness that human minds are 
 confined to here of having great variety of idea*
 
 OF RETENTION. 79 
 
 only by succession, not all at once : whereas the several 
 degrees of angels may probably have larger views, and 
 some of them be endowed with capacities able to retain 
 together and constantly set before them, as in one 
 picture, all their past knowledge at once. This, we 
 may conceive, would be no small advantage to the 
 knowledge of a thinking man, if all his past thoughts 
 and reasonings could be always present to him ; and 
 therefore we may suppose it one of those ways wherein 
 the knowledge of separate spirits may exceedingly sur- 
 pass ours.] 
 
 10. Brutes have memory. This faculty of laying 
 up and retaining the ideas that are brought into the 
 mind, several other animals seem to have to a great 
 degree, as well as man. For, to pass by other in- 
 stances, 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 pat- 
 terns. For it seems to me impossible that they should 
 endeavour to conform their voices to notes (as it is 
 plain they do) of which they had no ideas. For 
 though I should grant sound may mechanically cause. 
 a certain motion of the animal spirits in the brains of 
 those birds whilst the tune is actually playing, and that 
 motion may be continued -on to the muscles of the 
 wings, and so the bird mechanically be driven away 
 by certain noises, because this may tend to the bird's 
 preservation ; yet that can never be supposed a reason 
 why it should cause mechanically either whilst the tune 
 was 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 imita- 
 tion can be of no use to the bird's preservation. But,
 
 80 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 which is more, it cannot with any appearance of rea- 
 son be supposed (much less proved) that birds with- 
 out sense and memory can approach their notes, nearer 
 and nearer by degrees, to a tune played yesterday ; 
 which if they have no idea of it in their memory is 
 now nowhere, nor can be a pattern for them to imi- 
 tate, 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 them- 
 selves should not make traces which they should fol- 
 low, as well as those of the pipe, is impossible to con- 
 ceive. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 OF DISCERNING, AND OTHER OPERATIONS OF THE MIND. 
 
 i. No knozvledge without discerning. 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 knowl- 
 edge; though the bodies that affect us were as busy 
 about us as they are now, and the mind were con- 
 tinually employed in thinking. On this faculty of dis- 
 tinguishing one thing from another, depends the evi- 
 dence and certainty of several even very general 
 propositions, which have passed for innate truths ; 
 because men, overlooking the true cause why those 
 propositions find universal assent, impute it wholly to
 
 DISCERNING AND OTHER OPERATIONS. 81 
 
 native uniform impressions : whereas it in truth de- 
 pends 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 understanding, or hasti- 
 ness and precipitancy natural to some tempers, I will 
 not here examine : it suffices to take notice, that this 
 is one of the operations that the mind may reflect on 
 and observe in itself. It is of that consequence to its 
 other knowledge, that so far as this faculty is in itself 
 dull, or not rightly made use of for the distinguishing 
 one thing from another, so far our notions are con- 
 fused, and our reason, and judgment disturbed or mis- 
 led. If in having our ideas in the memory ready at 
 hand consists quickness of parts; in this of having 
 them unconfused, and being able nicely to distinguish 
 one thing from another where there is but the least 
 difference, consists in a great measure the exactness of 
 judgment and clearness of reason which is to be ob- 
 served in one man above another. And hence, per- 
 haps, may be given some reason of that common ob- 
 servation that men who have a great deal of wit 
 and prompt memories, have not always the clearest 
 judgment or deepest reason. For, wit lying most in 
 the assemblage of ideas, and putting those together 
 with quickness and variety wherein can be found any 
 resemblance or congruity, thereby to make up pleasant 
 pictures and agreeable visions in the fancy; judg- 
 ment, on the contrary, lies quite on the other side, in 
 separating carefully one from another ideas wherein
 
 82 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 can be found the least difference, thereby to avoid 
 being misled by similitude and by affinity to take one 
 thing for another. This is a way of proceeding quite 
 contrary to metaphor and allusion, wherein for the 
 most part lies that entertainment and pleasantry of wit 
 which strikes so lively on the fancy, and therefore 
 so acceptable to all people; because its beauty ap- 
 pears 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 agreeableness of the picture and the gaiety 
 of the fancy; and it is a kind of affront to go about 
 to examine it by the severe rules of truth and good 
 reason; whereby it appears that it consists in some- 
 thing that is not perfectly conformable to them. 
 
 3. Clearness alone hinders confusion. To the well 
 distinguishing our ideas, it chiefly contributes that 
 they be clear and determinate ; and when they are so, 
 it will not breed any confusion or mistake about them, 
 though the senses should (as sometimes they do) con- 
 vey 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 be- 
 tween the two ideas of sweet and bitter, that the same 
 sort of body produces at one time one and at another 
 time another idea by the taste, than it makes a confu- 
 sion 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
 
 DISCERNING AND OTHER OPERATIONS. 83 
 
 by the same parcel of the infusion of lignum nephriti- 
 cum, are no less distinct ideas than those of the same 
 colours taken from two very different bodies. 
 
 4. Comparing. The comparing them one with 
 another, in respect of extent, degrees, time, place, or 
 any other circumstances, is another operation of the 
 mind about its ideas, and is that upon which depends 
 all that large tribe of ideas comprehended under re- 
 lation ; which of how vast an extent it is, I shall have 
 occasion to consider hereafter. 
 
 5. Brutes compare, but imperfectly. How far 
 brutes partake in this faculty is not easy to determine ; 
 I imagine they have it not in any great degree : for 
 though they probably have several ideas distinct 
 enough, yet it seems to me to be the prerogative of 
 human understanding, when it has sufficiently distin- 
 guished any ideas so as to perceive them to be per- 
 fectly different, and so consequently two, to cast about 
 and consider in w r hat circumstances they are capable 
 tp be compared. And therefore, I think, beasts com- 
 pare not their ideas farther than some sensible cir- 
 cumstances annexed to the objects themelves. 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 com- 
 bines them into complex ones. Under this of compo- 
 sition may be reckoned also that of enlarging ; wherein 
 though the composition does not so much appear as 
 in more complex ones, yet it is nevertheless a putting
 
 84 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 several ideas together, though of the same kind. 
 Thus, by adding several units together we make the 
 idea of a dozen, and putting together the repeated 
 ideas of several perches we frame that of a furlong. 
 
 7. Brutes compound but little. In this also I sup- 
 pose 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 them- 
 selves ever compound them and make complex ideas. 
 And perhaps even where we think they have complex 
 ideas, it is only one simple one that directs them in 
 the knowledge of several things, which possibly they 
 distinguish less by their sight than we imagine. For 
 I have been credibly informed that a bitch will nurse, 
 play with, and be fond of young foxes, as much as 
 and in place of her puppies, if you can but get them 
 once to suck her so long that her milk may go through 
 them. [And those animals which have a numerous 
 brood of young ones at once, appear not to have any 
 knowledge of their number; for though they are 
 mightily concerned for any of their young that are 
 taken from them whilst they are in sight or hearing, 
 yet if one or two of them be stolen from them in their 
 absence or without noise, they appear not to miss 
 them, or to have any sense that their number is les- 
 sened.] 
 
 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
 
 DISCERNING AND OTHER OPERATIONS. 85 
 
 use of words to signify their ideas to others. These 
 verbal signs they sometimes borrow from others, and 
 sometimes make themselves, as one may observe 
 among the new and unusual names children often give 
 to things in their first use of language. 
 
 9. Abstraction. The use of words then being to 
 stand as outward marks of our internal ideas, and 
 those ideas being taken from particular things, if every 
 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 par- 
 ticular objects, to become general; which is done by 
 considering them as they are in the mind such appear- 
 ances separate from all other existences, and the cir- 
 cumstances 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 pre- 
 cise, naked appearances in the mind, without consider- 
 ing how, whence, or with what others they came there, 
 the understanding lays up (with names commonly an- 
 nexed to them) as the standards to rank real exist- 
 ences into sorts, as they agree with these patterns, and 
 to denominate them accordingly. Thus, the same 
 colour being observed to-day in chalk or snow, which 
 the mind yesterday received from milk, it considers 
 that appearance alone, makes it a representative of all 
 of that kind, and, having given it the name " white- 
 ness," it by that sound signifies the same quality 
 wheresoever to be imagined or met with; and thus 
 universals, whether ideas or terms, are made. 
 
 10. Brutes abstract not. If it may be doubted
 
 86 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 whether beasts compound and enlarge their ideas that 
 way to any degree, this, I think, I may be positive in, 
 that the power of abstracting is not at all in them, 
 and that the having of general ideas is that which 
 puts a perfect distinction 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 foot- 
 steps in them of making use of general signs for uni- 
 versal 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. 
 
 ii. Nor can it be imputed to their want of fit 
 organs to frame articulate sounds, that they have no 
 use or knowledge of general words : since many of 
 them, we find, can fashion such sounds and pronounce 
 words distinctly enough, but never with any such ap- 
 plication. And, on the other side, men who, through 
 some defect in the organs, want words, yet fail not to 
 express their universal ideas by signs, which serve 
 them instead of general words; a faculty which we 
 see beasts come short in. And therefore, I think, we 
 may suppose that it is in this that the species of brutes 
 are discriminated from man ; and it is that proper dif- 
 ference wherein they are wholly separated, and which 
 at last widens to so vast a distance. For if they have 
 any ideas at all, and are not bare machines (as some 
 would have them), we cannot deny them to have some 
 reason. It seems as evident to me that they do, some 
 of them, in certain instances, reason, as that they have 
 sense ; but it is only in particular ideas, just as they re- 
 ceived them from their senses. They are, the best of 
 them, tied up within those narrow bounds, and have
 
 DISCERNING AND OTHER OPERATIONS. 87 
 
 not (as I think) the faculty to enlarge them by any 
 kind of abstraction. 
 
 12. Idiots and madmen. How far idiots are con- 
 cerned in the want or weakness of any or all of the 
 foregoing faculties, an exact observation of their sev- 
 eral ways of faltering would no doubt discover. For 
 those who either perceive but dully, or retain the ideas 
 that come into their minds but ill, who cannot readily 
 excite or compound them, will have little matter to 
 think on. Those who cannot distinguish, compare, 
 and abstract, would hardly be able to understand and 
 make use of language, or judge, or reason, to any 
 tolerable degree ; but only a little and imperfectly about 
 things present and very familiar to their senses. And 
 indeed any of the fore-mentioned faculties, if wanting 
 or out of order, produce suitable defects in men's un- 
 derstandings and knowledge. 
 
 13. In fine, the defect in naturals seems to proceed 
 from want of quickness, activity, and motion in the 
 intellectual faculties, whereby they are deprived of 
 reason; whereas madmen, on the other side, seem to 
 suffer by the other extreme. For they do not appear 
 to me to have lost the faculty of reasoning; but, hav- 
 ing joined together some ideas very wrongly, they 
 mistake them for truths, and they err as men do that 
 argue right from wrong principles. For by the vio- 
 lence 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 attend- 
 ance, respect, and obedience ; others, who have thought 
 themselves made of glass, have used the caution neces- 
 say to preserve such brittle bodies. Hence it comes 
 to pass, that a man who is very sober and of a right
 
 88 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 understanding in all other things, may in one particu- 
 lar be as frantic as any in Bedlam; if either by any 
 sudden very strong impression, or long fixing his 
 fancy upon one sort of thoughts, incoherent ideas have 
 been cemented together so powerfully as to remain 
 united. But there are degrees of madness, as of folly ; 
 the disorderly jumbling ideas together is in some more 
 and some less. In short, herein seems to lie the dif- 
 ference between idiots and madmen, that madmen put 
 wrong ideas together, and so make wrong proposi- 
 tions, but argue and reason right from them ; but idiots 
 make very few or no propositions, and reason scarce 
 at all. 
 
 14. Method. These, I think, are the first facul- 
 .ties and operations of the mind which it makes use of 
 in understanding; and though they are exercised 
 about all its ideas in general, yet the instances I have 
 hitherto given have been chiefly in simple ideas ; and 
 I have subjoined the explication of these faculties of 
 the mind to that of simple ideas, before I come to what 
 I have to say concerning complex ones, for these fol- 
 lowing reasons: 
 
 First, Because, several of these faculties being exer- 
 cised 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 im- 
 provements. 
 
 Secondly, Because, observing the faculties of the 
 mind, how they operate about simple ideas, which are 
 usually in most men's minds much more clear, precise, 
 and distinct than complex ones, we may the better ex- 
 amine and learn how the mind extracts, denominates, 
 compares, and exercises in its other operations about
 
 DISCERNING AND OTHER OPERATIONS. 89 
 
 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 " re- 
 flection ;" and therefore fit to be considered in this 
 place after the simple ideas of sensation. Of com- 
 pounding, comparing, abstracting, &c., I have but just 
 spoken, having occasion to treat of them more at large 
 in other places. 
 
 15. These are the 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 I must appeal 
 to experience and observation whether I am in the 
 right : the best way to come to truth being to examine 
 things as really they are, and not to conclude they are 
 as we fancy of ourselves, or have been taught by 
 others to imagine. 
 
 16. Appeal to experience. To deal truly, this is 
 the only way that I can discover whereby the ideas of 
 things are brought into the understanding: if other 
 men have either innate ideas or infused principles, 
 they have reason to enjoy them ; and if they are sure 
 of it, it is impossible for others to deny them the priv- 
 ilege 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
 
 QO CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 I have laid, and to correspond with this method in all 
 the parts and degrees thereof. 
 
 17. Dark room. I pretend not to teach, but to 
 inquire; and therefore cannot but confess here again, 
 that external and internal sensation are the only pas- 
 sages 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 understanding is not much unlike a 
 closet wholly shut from light, with only some little 
 openings left to let in external visible resemblances or 
 ideas of things without : [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 understanding of a man in reference to 
 all objects of sight, and the ideas of them. 
 
 These are my guesses concerning the means where- 
 by the understanding comes to have and retain simple 
 ideas and the modes of them, with some other opera- 
 tions about them. I proceed now to examine some of 
 these simple ideas and their modes a little more par- 
 ticularly. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 OF COMPLEX IDEAS. 
 
 i. 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 be- 
 fore 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
 
 OF COMPLEX IDEAS. 91 
 
 in the reception of all its simple ideas, so it exerts 
 several acts of its own, whereby out of its simple ideas, 
 as the materials and foundations of the rest, the other 
 are framed. The acts of the mind wherein it exerts 
 in power over its simple ideas are chiefly these three : 
 (i.) Combining several simple ideas into one com- 
 pound 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 rela- 
 tions. (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 way of 
 operation to be much the same in the material and 
 intellectual world. For, the materials in both being 
 such as he has no power over, either to make or 
 destroy, all that man can do is either to unite them 
 together, or to set them by one another, or wholly 
 separate them. I shall here begin with the first of 
 these in the consideration of complex ideas, and come 
 to the other two in their due places.] As simple ideas 
 are observed to exist in several combinations united 
 together, so the mind has a power to consider several 
 of them united together as one idea ; and that not only 
 as they are united in external objects, but as itself has 
 joined them. 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.
 
 92 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 2. Made voluntarily. In this faculty of repeating 
 and joining together its ideas, the mind has great 
 power in varying and multiplying the objects of its 
 thoughts infinitely beyond what sensation or reflection 
 furnished it with; but all this still confined to those 
 simple ideas which it received from those two sources, 
 and which are the ultimate materials of all its com- 
 positions. For, simple ideas are all from things them- 
 selves ; 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 substance than what it finds 
 ta 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 decom- 
 pounded, though their number be infinite, and the 
 variety endless wherewith they fill and entertain the 
 thoughts of men, yet I think they may be all reduced 
 under these three heads: I. Modes. 2. Substances. 
 3. Relations. 
 
 4. Modes. First. " Modes" I call such complex 
 ideas which, however compounded, contain not in 
 them the supposition of subsisting by themselves, but 
 are considered as dependences on, or affections of, sub- 
 stances; such are the ideas signified by the words, 
 " triangle, gratitude, murder," &c. And if in this I 
 use the word " mode " in somewhat a different sense 
 from its ordinary signification, I beg pardon ; it being 
 unavoidable in discourses differing from the ordinary
 
 OF COMPLEX IDEAS. 93 
 
 received notions, either to make new words or to use 
 old words in somewhat a new signification: the latter 
 whereof, in our present case, is perhaps the more toler- 
 able of the two. 
 
 5. Simple and mixed modes. Of these modes 
 there are two sorts which deserve distinct considera- 
 tion. First. There are some which are only variations 
 or different combinations of the same simple idea, 
 without the mixture of any other, as a dozen, or score ; 
 which are nothing but the ideas of so many distinct 
 units added together : and these I call " simple modes," 
 as being contained within the bounds of one simple 
 idea. Secondly. There are others compounded of 
 simple ideas, of several kinds, put together to make 
 one complex one ; v. g., beauty, consisting of a certain 
 composition of colour and figure, causing delight in 
 the beholder ; theft, which, being the concealed change 
 of the possession of any thing, without the consent of 
 the proprietor, contains, as is visible, a combination of 
 several ideas of several kinds ; and these " I call mixed 
 modes." 
 
 6. Substances single or collective. Secondly. 
 The ideas of substances are such combinations of 
 simple ideas as are taken to represent distinct particu- 
 lar things subsisting by themselves, in which the sup- 
 posed or confused idea of substance, such as it is, is 
 always the first and chief. Thus, if to substance be 
 joined the simple idea of a certain dull, whitish colour, 
 with certain degrees of weight, hardness, ductility, and 
 fusibility, we have the idea of lead; and a combina- 
 tion of the ideas of a certain sort of figure, with the 
 powers of motion, thought, and reasoning, joined to 
 substance, make the ordinary idea of a man. Now of 
 substances also there are two sorts of ideas, one of
 
 94 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 single substances, as they exist separately, as of a man 
 or a sheep ; the other of several of those put together, 
 as an army of men or flock of sheep ; which collective 
 ideas of several substances thus put together, are as 
 much each of them one single idea as that of a man 
 or an unit. 
 
 7. Relation. Thirdly. The last sort of complex 
 ideas is that we call " Relation," which consists in the 
 consideration and comparing one idea with another. 
 Of these several kinds we shall treat in their order. 
 
 8. The abstrusest ideas from the two sources. If 
 we trace the progress of our minds, and with at- 
 tention observe how it repeats, adds together, and 
 unites its simple ideas received from sensation or 
 reflection, it will lead us farther than at first perhaps 
 we should have imagined. And I believe we shall find, 
 if we warily observe the originals of our notions, that 
 even the most abstruse ideas, how remote soever they 
 may seem from sense, or from any operation of our 
 own minds, are yet only such as the understanding 
 frames to itself, by repeating and joining together 
 ideas that it had either from objects of sense, or from 
 its own operations about them ; so that those even large 
 and abstract ideas are derived from sensation or reflec- 
 tion, being no other than what the mind, by the ordi- 
 nary use of its own faculties, employed about ideas re- 
 ceived from objects of sense, or from the operations 
 it observes in itself about them, may and does attain 
 unto. This I shall endeavour to show in the ideas 
 we have of space, time, and infinity, and some few 
 other that seem the most remote from those originals.
 
 OF THE SIMPLE MODES OF SPACE. 95 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 OF SIMPLE MODES; AND FIRST, OF THE SIMPLE MODEU 
 OF SPACE. 
 
 i. Simple modes. Though in the foregoing part 
 I have often mentioned simple ideas, which are truly 
 the materials of all our knowledge : yet, having treated 
 of them there rather in the way that they come into 
 the mind than as distinguished from others more com- 
 pounded, it will not be perhaps amiss to take a view 
 of some of them again under this consideration, and 
 examine those different modifications of the same idea, 
 which the mind either finds in things existing, or is 
 able to make within itself, without the help of any 
 extrinsical object, or any foreign suggestion. 
 
 Those modifications of any one simple idea (which 
 as has been said, I call " simple modes "), are as per- 
 fectly different and distinct ideas in the mind as those 
 of the greatest distance or contrariety ; for the idea of 
 two is as distinct from that of one as blueness from 
 heat, or either of them from any number ; and yet it is 
 made up only of that simple of idea of an unit re- 
 peated ; and repetitions of this kind joined together 
 make those distinct simple modes of a dozen, a gross, 
 a million. 
 
 ******** 
 ******** 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 OF INFINITY. 
 
 I. Infinity, in its original intention, attributed to 
 space, duration, and number. He that would know
 
 96 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 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 at- 
 tributed, 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 fore- 
 going 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 figuratively to his power, wisdom, 
 and goodness, and other attributes, which are properly 
 inexhaustible and incomprehensible, &c. For when we 
 call them infinite, we have no other idea of this in- 
 finity but what carries with it some reflection on and 
 imitation of that number or extent of the acts or 
 objects of God's power, wisdom, and goodness, which 
 can never be supposed so great or so many, which 
 these attributes w r ill not always surmount and exceed, 
 let us multiply them in our thoughts as far as we can, 
 with all the infinity of endiess number. I do not pre- 
 tend to say how these attributes are in God, who is 
 infinitely beyond the reach of our narrow capacities ; 
 they do, without doubt, contain in them all possible 
 perfection: but this, I say, is our way of conceiving 
 them, and these our ideas of their infinity. 
 
 2. The idea of Unite easily got. Finite then and
 
 OF INFINITY. 97 
 
 infinite being by the mind looked on as modifications 
 of expansion and duration, the next thing to be con- 
 sidered is, how the mind comes by them. As for the 
 idea of finite, there is no great difficulty. The obvious 
 portions of extension that affect our senses carry with 
 them into the mind the idea of finite ; and the ordinary 
 periods of succession whereby we measure time and 
 duration, as hours, days and years, are bounded 
 lengths. The difficulty is, how we come by those 
 boundless ideas of eternity and immensity, since the 
 objects which 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, join- 
 ing it to the former, make the idea of two feet, and, 
 by the addition of a third, three feet, and so on, with- 
 out ever coming to an end of his additions, whether of 
 the same idea of a foot, or, if he pleases, of doubling 
 it, or any other idea he has of any length, as a mile, or 
 diameter of the earth, or of the orbis ma gnus; for, 
 whichever of these he takes, and how often soever 
 he doubles or any otherwise multiplies it, he finds that, 
 after he has continued his doubling in his thoughts 
 and enlarged his idea as much as he pleases, he has 
 no more reason to stop, nor is one jot nearer the end 
 of such addition than he was at first setting out: the 
 power of enlarging his idea of space by farther addi- 
 tions 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
 
 98 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 existing, since our ideas are not always proofs of the 
 existence of things; but yet, since this comes here in 
 our way, I suppose I may say that we are apt to think 
 that space in itself is actually boundless, to which im- 
 agination the idea of space or expansion of itself natur- 
 ally leads us. For, it being considered by us either as 
 the extension of body, or as existing by itself, without 
 any solid matter taking it up ( for of such a void space 
 we have not only the idea, but I have proved, as I 
 think, from the motion of body, its necessary exist- 
 ence), 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 in space and exten- 
 sion, that it rather facilitates and enlarges it: for so 
 far as that body reaches, so far no one can doubt of 
 extension; and when we are come to the utmost ex- 
 tremity 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 it is not; nay, when it is 
 satisfied that body itself can move into it? 
 For if it be necessary for the motion of body 
 that there should be an empty space, though never 
 so little, here amongst bodies ; and it be possible 
 for body to move in or through that empty space (nay, 
 it is impossible for any particle of matter to move but 
 into an empty space) ; the same possibility of a body's 
 moving into a void space beyond the utmost bounds of 
 body, as well as into a void space interspersed amongst 
 bodies, will always remain clear and evident ; the idea 
 of empty pure space, whether within or beyond the 
 confines of all bodies, being exactly the same, differing
 
 OF INFINITY. 99 
 
 not in nature, though in bulk ; and there being nothing 
 to hinder body from moving into it : so that wherever 
 the mind places itself by any thought, either amongst 
 or remote from all bodies, it can, in this uniform idea 
 of space, nowhere find any bounds, any end ; and so 
 must necessarily conclude it, by the very nature and 
 idea of each part of it, to be actually infinite. 
 
 5. And so of duration. As, by the power we find 
 in ourselves of repeating as often as we will any idea 
 of space, we get the idea of immensity ; so, by being 
 able to repeat the idea of any length of duration we 
 have in our minds, with all the endless addition of 
 number, we come by the idea of eternity. For we find 
 in ourselves, we can no more come to an end of such 
 repeated ideas than we can come to the end of number ; 
 which every one perceives he cannot. But here again 
 it is another question, quite different from our having 
 an idea of eternity, to know whether there were any 
 real being whose duration has been eternal. And as 
 to this, I say, he that considers something now exist- 
 ing 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 considera- 
 tions of our idea of infinity. 
 
 6. Why other ideas are not capable of infinity. If 
 it be so, that our idea of infinity be got from the power 
 we observe in ourselves of repeating without end our 
 own ideas, it may be demanded, why we do not at- 
 tribute infinity to other ideas, as well as those of space 
 and duration ; since they may be as easily and as often 
 repeated in our minds as the other; and yet nobody 
 ever thinks of infinite sweetness or infinite whiteness, 
 though he can repeat the idea of sweet or white as fre- 
 quently as those of a yard or a day? To which I
 
 ioo CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 answer, All the ideas that are considered as having 
 parts, and are capable of increase by the addition of 
 any equal or less parts, afford us, by their repetition, 
 the idea of infinity; because with this endless repeti- 
 tion 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 perf ectest idea I 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 white- 
 ness, &c., are called " degrees." For those ideas that 
 consist of parts 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 yester- 
 day 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 can- 
 not 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 
 an 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
 
 OF INFINITY. 101 
 
 contemplation of quantity, and the endless increase the 
 mind is able to make in quantity, by the repeated addi- 
 tions of what portions thereof it pleases ; yet, I guess, 
 we cause great confusion in our thoughts when we 
 join infinity to any supposed idea of quantity the mind 
 can be thought to have, and so discourse or reason 
 about an infinite quantity, as an infinite space or 
 an infinite duration. For our idea of infinity being, as 
 I think, an endless growing idea, but the idea of any 
 quantity the mind has being at that time terminated 
 in that idea (for be it as great as it will, it can be no 
 greater than it is, to join infinity to it, is to adjust a 
 standing measure to a growing bulk ; and therefore 
 I think it is not an insignificant subtilty if I say that 
 we are carefully to distinguish between the idea of the 
 infinity of space and the idea of a space infinite: the 
 first is nothing but a supposed endless progression of 
 the mind over what repeated ideas of space it pleases ; 
 but to have actually in the mind the idea of a space 
 infinite, is to suppose the mind already passed over, 
 and actually to have a view of all those repeated ideas 
 of space which an endless repetition can never totally 
 represent to it; which carries in it a plain contradic- 
 tion. 
 
 8. We have no idea of infinite space. This, per- 
 haps, 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 infinity of number be, 
 there is nothing yet more evident than the absurdity 
 of the actual idea of an infinite number. Whatsoever 
 positive ideas we have in our minds of any space, 
 duration, or number, let them be ever so great, they
 
 102 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 are still finite; but when we suppose an inexhaustible 
 remainder, from which we remove all bounds, and 
 wherein we allow the mind an endless progression of 
 thought, without ever completing the idea, there we 
 have our idea of infinity ; which though it seems to be 
 pretty clear when we consider nothing else in it but 
 the negation of an end, vet 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 inconsist- 
 ent. 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 con- 
 trary to the idea of infinity, which consists in a sup- 
 posed endless progression. And therefore I think it 
 is that we are so easily confounded when we come to 
 argue and reason about infinite space or duration, &c. 
 Because the parts of such an idea not being perceived 
 to be, as they are, inconsistent, the one side or other 
 always perplexes whatever consequences we draw 
 from the other; as an idea of motion not passing on 
 would perplex any one who should argue from such an 
 idea, which is not better than an idea of motion at 
 rest; and such another seems to me to be the idea of 
 a space or (which is the same thing) a number in- 
 finite i. e., of a space or number which the mind act- 
 ually has, and so views and terminates in, and of a 
 space or number which, in a constant and endless en- 
 larging and progression, it can in thought never attain 
 to. For how large soever an idea of space I have in 
 my mind, it is no larger than it is that instant that I 
 have it, though I be capable the next instant to double 
 it, and so on in infinitum: for that alone is infinite
 
 OP INFINITY. 103 
 
 which has no bounds, and that the idea of infinity in 
 which our thoughts can find none. 
 
 9. Number affords us the clearest idea of infinity. 
 But of all other ideas, it is number, as I have said, 
 which, I think, furnishes us with the clearest and most 
 distinct idea of infinity we are capable of. For even in 
 space and duration, when the mind pursues the idea of 
 infinity, it there makes use of the ideas and repetitions 
 of numbers, as of millions of millions of miles or years, 
 which are so many distinct ideas kept best by number 
 from running into a confused heap, wherein the mind 
 loses itself; and when it has added together as many 
 millions &c., as it pleases of known lengths of space or 
 duration the clearest idea it can get of infinity is, the 
 confused, incomprehensible remainder of endless addi- 
 ble numbers, which affords no prospect of stop or 
 boundary. 
 
 10. Our different conception of the infinity of 
 niflnber, 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 
 infinity of number applied to determinate parts, of 
 which we have in our minds the distinct ideas, if we 
 consider that number is not generally thought by us 
 infinite, whereas duration and extension are apt to be 
 so; which arises from hence, that in number we are at 
 one end as it were : for there being in number nothing 
 less than an unit, we there stop, and are at an end ; 
 but in addition or increase of number, we can set no 
 bounds : and so it is like a line, whereof one end ter- 
 minating with us, the other is extended still forwards 
 beyond all that we can conceive ; but in space and dur- 
 ation it is otherwise.. For in duration we consider it 
 as if this line of number were extended both ways to
 
 104 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 an unconceivable, undeterminate, and infinite length; 
 which is evident to any one that will but reflect on 
 what consideration he hath of eternity; which, I sup- 
 pose, 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 con- 
 sider 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 ex- 
 tending that line of number as before: and these two 
 being put together are that infinite duration we call 
 " eternity ;" which, as we turn our view either way, 
 forwards or backwards, appears infinite, because we 
 still turn that way the infinite end of number, i. e., the 
 power still of adding more. 
 
 11. The same happens also in space, wherein con- 
 ceiving ourselves to be as it were in the centre, we do 
 on all sides pursue those indeterminable lines of num- 
 ber; and reckoning any way from ourselves a yard, 
 mile, diameter of the earth, or orbis magmis, by the 
 infinity of number, we add others to them as often as 
 we will ; and having no more reason to set bounds to 
 those repeated ideas than we have to set bounds to 
 number, we have that indeterminable idea of im- 
 mensity. 
 
 12. Infinite divisibility. And since in any bulk of 
 matter our thoughts can never arrive at the utmost 
 divisibility, therefore there is an apparent infinity to 
 us also in that which has the infinity also of number.
 
 OF INFINITY. 105 
 
 but with this difference, that in the former consider- 
 ations of the infinity of 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 
 additions, it being indeed but the addition still of new 
 numbers ; though in the addition of the one we can 
 have no more the (positive) idea of a space infinitely 
 great, than in the division of the other we can have the 
 idea of a body infinitely little; our idea of infinity be- 
 ing, as I may so say, a growing and fugitive idea, still 
 in a boundless progression, that can stop nowhere. 
 
 13. No positive idea of infinite. Though it be 
 hard, I think, to find any one so absurd as to say he 
 has the positive idea of an actual infinite number, the 
 infinity whereof lies only in a power still of adding any 
 combination of units to any former number, and that 
 as long and as much as one will ; the like also being in 
 the infinity of space and duration, which power leaves 
 always to the mind room for endless additions; yet 
 there be those who imagine they have positive ideas of 
 infinite duration and space. It would, I think, be 
 enough to destroy any such positive idea of infinite to 
 ask him that has it, whether he could add to it or no? 
 which would easily show the mistake of such a posi- 
 tive idea. We can, I think, have no positive idea of 
 any space or duration which is not made up of, and 
 commensurate to, repeated numbers of feet or yards, 
 or days and years ; which are the common measures 
 whereof we have the ideas of our minds, and whereby 
 we judge of the greatness of this sort of quantities. 
 And therefore, since an infinite idea of space or dura- 
 tion must needs be made up of infinite parts, it can 
 have no other infinity than that of number, capable
 
 106 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 still of farther addition ; but not an actual positive idea 
 of a number infinite. For, I think, it is evident that 
 the addition of finite things together (as are all 
 lengths whereof we have the positive ideas) can never 
 otherwise produce the idea of infinite than as number 
 does ; which, consisting of additions of finite units one 
 to another, suggests the idea of infinite only by a 
 power we find we have of still increasing the sum, 
 and adding more of the same kind, without coming 
 one jot nearer the end of such progression. 
 
 14. They who would prove their idea of infinite 
 to be positive, seem to me to do it by a pleasant argu- 
 ment, taken from the negation of an end ; which being 
 negative, the negation of it is positive. He that con- 
 siders that the end is, in body, but the extremity or 
 superficies of that body, will not, perhaps, be forward 
 to grant, that the end is a bare negative : and he that 
 perceives the end of his pen is black or white, will 
 be apt to think that the end is something more than 
 a pure negation. Nor is it, when applied to duration, 
 the bare negation of existence, but more properly the 
 last moment of it. But if they will have the end to be 
 nothing but the bare negation of existence, I am sure 
 they cannot deny but that the beginning is the first 
 instant of being, and is not by any body conceived 
 to be a bare negation ; and therefore, by their own 
 argument, the idea of eternal a parte ante, or of a 
 duration without a beginning, is but a negative idea. 
 
 15. What is positive, uhat negative, in our idea of 
 infinite. The idea of infinite has, I confess, something 
 of positive in all those things we apply it to. When 
 we would think of infinite space or duration, we at 
 first step usually make some very large idea, as per- 
 haps, of millions of ages or miles, which possibly we
 
 OF INFINITY. 107 
 
 double and multiply several times. All that we thus 
 amass together in our thoughts is positive, and the 
 assemblage of a great number of positive ideas of 
 space or duration. But what still remains beyond this, 
 we have no more a positive, distinct notion of, than a 
 mariner has of the depth of the sea, where, having let 
 down a large portion of his sounding-line, he reaches 
 no bottom: whereby he knows the depth to be so 
 many fathoms, and more; but how much that more 
 is, he hath no distinct notion at all : and could he 
 always supply new line, and find the plummet always 
 sink without ever stopping, he would be something 
 in the posture of the mind reaching after a complete 
 and positive idea of infinity. In which case, let this 
 line be ten or ten thousand fathoms long, it equally 
 discovers what is beyond it; and gives only this con- 
 fused 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 
 endeavouring to make it infinite, it being always en- 
 larging, always advancing, the idea is still imperfect 
 and incomplete. So much space as the mind takes a 
 view of, in its contemplation of greatness, is a clear 
 picture, and positive in the understanding: but infinite 
 is still greater, (i.) Then the idea of so much, is 
 positive and clear. (2.) The idea of greater, is also 
 clear, but it is but a comparative idea, the idea of so 
 much greater as cannot be comprehended. (3.) 
 And this is plain negative, not positive. For he has 
 no positive, clear idea, of the largeness of any ex- 
 tension (which is that sought for in the idea of infin- 
 ite), that has not a comprehensive idea of the dimen- 
 sions of it: and such, nobody, I think, pretends to in 
 what is infinite. For, to say a man has a positive,
 
 io8 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 clear idea of any quantity, without knowing how great 
 it is, is as reasonable as to say, he has the positive, 
 clear idea of the number of the sands on the sea-shore, 
 who knows not how many there be, but only that they 
 are more than twenty. For just such a perfect and 
 positive idea has he of an infinite space or duration 
 who says it is larger than the extent or duration of 
 ten, one hundred, one thousand, or any other number of 
 miles or years, whereof he has or can have a positive 
 idea ; which is all the idea, I think, we have of infinite. 
 So that what lies beyond our positive idea towards 
 infinity lies in obscurity, and has the indeterminate 
 confusion of a negative idea; wherein I know I nei- 
 ther do nor can comprehend all I would, it being too 
 large for a finite and narrow capacity : and that cannot 
 but be very far from a positive complete idea, wherein 
 the greatest part of what I would comprehend is left 
 out, under the undeterminate intimation of being still 
 greater. For to say, that having in any quantity 
 measured so much, or gone so far, you are not yet at 
 the end, is only to say that that quantity is greater. 
 So that the negation of and end in any quantity, is, in 
 other words, only to say, that it is bigger : and a total 
 negation of an end, is but the carrying this bigger still 
 with you in all the progressions your thoughts shall 
 make in quantity, and adding this idea of still greater 
 to all the ideas you have or can be supposed to have 
 of quantity. Now, whether such an idea as that be 
 positive, I leave any one to consider. 
 
 16. We have no positive idea of an infinite dura- 
 tion. I ask those who say they have a positive idea 
 of eternity, whether their idea of duration includes 
 in it succession or not? If it does not, they ought to 
 show the difference of their notion of duration, when
 
 OF INFINITY. 109 
 
 applied to an eternal being, and to a finite ; since, per- 
 haps, there may be others, as well as I, who will own 
 to them their weakness of understanding in this point ; 
 and acknowledge that the notion they have of duration 
 forces them to conceive, that whatever has duration 
 is of a longer continuance to-day than it was yesterday. 
 If to avoid succession in external existence, they return 
 to the punctum stans of the schools, I suppose they 
 will thereby very little mend the matter, or help us 
 to a more clear and positive idea of infinite duration, 
 there being nothing more inconceivable to me than 
 duration without succession. Besides that punctum 
 stans, if it signify any thing, being not quantum, finite 
 or infinite cannot belong to it. But if our weak appre- 
 hensions 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 any 
 other existence, to have the notion of an eternal wise 
 Being, who had no beginning; and such an idea of 
 infinite duration I am sure I have. But this negation 
 of a beginning, being but the negation of a positive 
 thing, scarce gives me a positive idea of infinity; 
 which whenever I endeavour to extend my thoughts 
 to, I confess myself at a loss, and I find I cannot attain 
 any clear comprehension of it.
 
 I io CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 18. No positive idea of infinite space. He that 
 thinks he has a positive idea of infinite space will, when 
 he considers it, find that he can no more have a positive 
 idea of the greatest than he has of the least space. 
 For in this latter, which seems the easier of the two, 
 and more within our comprehension, we are capable 
 only of a comparative idea of smallness, which will 
 always be less than any one whereof we have the 
 positive idea. All our positive ideas of any quantity, 
 whether great or little have always bounds ; though our 
 comparative idea, whereby we can always add to the 
 one, and take from the other, hath no bounds. For 
 that which remains, either great or little, not being 
 comprehended in that positive idea which we have, 
 lies in obscurity: and we have no other idea of it, 
 but of the power of enlarging the one, and diminish- 
 ing the other, without ceasing. A pestle and mortar 
 will as soon bring any particle of matter to indivisi- 
 bility, as the acutest thought of a mathematician : and 
 a surveyor may as soon with his chain measure out 
 infinite space as a philosopher by the quickest flight 
 of mind reach it, or by thinking comprehend it; which 
 is to have a positive idea of it. He that thinks on 
 a cube of an inch diameter, has a clear and positive 
 idea of it in his mind, and so can frame one of a half, 
 a quarter, and an eighth, 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 be- 
 gan ; 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
 
 OF INFINITY. in 
 
 infinite. Every one that looks towards infinity does as 
 I have said, at first glance make some very large idea of 
 that which he applies it to, let it be space or duration ; 
 and possibly he wearies his thoughts by multiplying in 
 his mind that first large idea : but yet by that he comes 
 no nearer to the having a positive clear idea of what 
 remains to make up a positive infinite, than the coun- 
 try-fellow had of the water which was yet to come, and 
 pass the channel of the river where he stood : 
 
 Rusticus expectat dum denuat amnis; at ille 
 Labitur, et labetur in omne volubilis avum. 
 
 20. Some, think they have a positive idea of eter- 
 nity, and not of infinite space. There are some I have 
 met that put so much difference between infinite 
 duration and infinite space, that they persuade them- 
 selves that they have a positive idea of eternity, but 
 that they have not nor can have any idea of infinite 
 space. The reason of which mistake I suppose to be 
 this, that finding by a due contemplation of causes 
 and effects that it is necessary to admit some eternal 
 Being, and so to consider the real existence of that 
 Being as taken up and commensurate to their idea of 
 eternity: but, on the other side, not finding it neces- 
 sary, but, on the contrary, apparently absurd, that 
 body should be infinite, they forwardly conclude that 
 they can have no idea of infinite space, because they can 
 have no idea of infinite matter. Which consequence, 
 I conceive, is very ill collected; because the existence 
 of matter is no ways necessary to the existence of 
 space, no more than the existence of motion or the 
 sun is necessary to duration, though duration uses to 
 be measured by it: and I doubt not but a man may
 
 112 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 have the idea of ten thousand miles square 
 without any body so big, as well as the idea 
 of ten thousand years without any body so 
 old. It seems as easy to me to have the idea of 
 space empty of body, as to think of the capacity of 
 a bushel without corn, or the hollow of a nut-shell 
 without a kernel in it : it being no more necessary that 
 there should be existing a solid body infinitely extend- 
 ed because we have an idea of the infinity of space, 
 than it is necessary that the world should be external 
 because we have an idea of infinite duration : and why 
 should we think our idea of infinite space requires the 
 real existence of matter to support it, when we find 
 that we have as clear an idea of infinite duration to 
 come, as we have of infinite duration past? though, I 
 suppose, nobody thinks it conceivable that any thing 
 does or has existed in that future duration. Nor is it 
 possible to join our idea of future duration with pres- 
 ent or past existence, any more than it is possible to 
 make the ideas of yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow 
 to be the same ; or bring ages past and future together, 
 and make them contemporary. But if these men are 
 of the mind, that they have clearer ideas of infinite 
 duration than of infinite space, because it is past doubt 
 that God has existed from all eternity, but there is no 
 real matter co-extended with infinite space; yet those 
 philosophers who are of opinion that infinite space is 
 possessed by God's infinite omnipresence, as well as 
 infinite duration by his eternal existence, must be al- 
 lowed to have as clear an idea of infinite space as of 
 infinite duration ; though neither of them, I think, has 
 any positive idea of infinity in either case. For, what- 
 soever positive ideas a man has in his mind of any 
 quantity, he can repeat it, and add it to the former, as
 
 OF INFINITY. 113 
 
 easy as he can add together the ideas of two days, 
 or two paces (which are positive ideas of lengths 
 he has in his mind), and so on, as long as he pleases : 
 whereby, if a man had a positive idea of infinite, either 
 duration or space, he could add two infinites together ; 
 nay, make one infinite infinitely bigger than another: 
 absurdities too gross to be confuted ! 
 
 21. Supposed positive ideas of infinity cause of 
 mistakes. But yet, if after all this there be men who 
 persuade themselves that they have clear, positive, 
 comprehensive ideas of infinity, it is fit they enjoy 
 their privilege; and I should be very glad (with some 
 others that I know who acknowledge that they have 
 none such) to be better informed by their communi- 
 cation. 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 dis- 
 proportion the nature thereof has to the comprehension 
 of our narrow capacities. For whilst men talk and 
 dispute of infinite space or duration as if they had as 
 complete and positive ideas of them as they have of 
 the names they use for them, or as they have of a yard, 
 or an hour, or any other determinate quantity ; it is no 
 wonder if the incomprehensible nature of the thing 
 they discourse of or reason about leads them into per- 
 plexities and contradictions, and their minds be over- 
 laid by an object too large and mighty to be surveyed 
 and managed by them. 
 
 22. All these ideas from sensation and reflection. 
 If I have dwelt pretty long on the considerations of 
 duration, space, and number, and what arises from 
 the contemplation of them, infinity, it is possibly no
 
 114 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 more than the matter requires, there being few simple 
 ideas whose modes give more exercise to the thoughts 
 of men than those do. I pretend not to treat of them 
 in their full latitude; it suffices to my design to show 
 how the mind receives them, such as they are, from 
 sensation and reflection; and how even the idea we 
 have of infinity, how remote soever it may seem to be 
 from any object of sense or operation of our mind, 
 has nevertheless, as all our other ideas, its original 
 there. Some mathematicians, perhaps, of advanced 
 speculations, may have other ways to introduce into 
 their minds ideas of infinity; but this hinders not but 
 that they themselves, as well as all other men, got the 
 first ideas which they had of infinity from sensation 
 and reflection, in the method we have here set down. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 OF OTHER SIMPLE MODES. 
 
 I. Modes of motion. Though I have in the fore- 
 going chapters shown how, from simple ideas taken 
 in by sensation the mind comes to extend itself even 
 to infinity; which, however, it may of all others seem 
 most remote from any sensible perception, yet at last 
 hath nothing in it but what is made out of simple ideas 
 received into the mind by the senses, and afterwards 
 there put together by the faculty the mind has to re- 
 peat 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.
 
 OF OTHER SIMPLE MODES. 115 
 
 2. 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 modifica- 
 tions of motion. Modes of motion answer those of 
 extension: swift and slow are two different ideas of 
 motion, the measures whereof are made of the dis- 
 tances 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 modifi- 
 cation 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 num- 
 ber. Sounds, also, besides the distinct cries of birds 
 and beasts, are modified by diversity of notes of differ- 
 ent length put together, which make that complex idea 
 called a " tune," which a musician may have in his mind 
 when he hears or makes no sound at all, by reflecting 
 on the ideas of those sounds so put together silently in 
 his own fancy. 
 
 4. Modes of colours. Those of colours are also 
 very various ; some we take notice of, as the different 
 degrees, or, as they are termed " shades," of the same 
 colour. But since we very seldom make assemblages 
 of colours either for use or delight but figure is taken 
 in also, and has its parts in it, as in painting, weaving, 
 needle-works, &c., those which are taken notice of do 
 most commonly belong to mixed modes, as being made 
 up of ideas of divers kinds, viz., figure and colour, such 
 as beauty, rainbow, &c. 
 
 5. Modes of tastes. All compounded tastes and
 
 Ii6 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 smells are also modes made up of these simple ideas 
 of those senses. But they, being such as generally we 
 have no names for, are less taken notice of, and can- 
 not be set down in writing; and therefore must be 
 left without enumeration to the thoughts and experi- 
 ence of my reader. 
 
 6. Some simple modes have no names. In general 
 it may be observed that those simple modes which 
 are considered but as different degrees of the same 
 simple idea, though they are in themselves, many 
 of them, very distinct ideas, yet have ordinarily no 
 distinct names, nor are much taken notice of as dis- 
 tinct 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 meas- 
 ures nicely to distinguish them ; or because, when they 
 were so distinguished, that knowledge would not be 
 of general or necessary use ; I leave it to the thoughts 
 of others: it is sufficient to my purpose to show, that 
 all our simple ideas come to our minds only by sensa- 
 tion and reflection ; 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 com- 
 plex 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 
 names. The reason whereof, I suppose, has been this, 
 that the great concernment of men being with men one 
 amongst another, the knowledge of men and their
 
 OF OTHER SIMPLE MODES. 117 
 
 actions and the signifying of them to one another 
 was most necessary; and therefore they made ideas 
 of action very nicely modified, and gave those com- 
 plex ideas names ' that they might the more easily 
 record and discourse of those things they were daily 
 conversant in without long ambages and circumlocu- 
 tions; and that the things they were continually to 
 give and receive information about might be the easier 
 and quicker understood. That this is so, and that men 
 in framing different complex ideas, and giving them 
 names, have been much governed by the end of speech 
 in general (which is a very short and expedite way of 
 conveying their thoughts one to another), is evident 
 in the names which in several arts have been found out 
 and applied to several complex ideas of modified ac- 
 tions belonging to their several trades, for despatch 
 sake, in their direction or discourses about them. 
 Which ideas are not generally framed in the minds 
 of men not conversant about these operations. And 
 hence the words that stand for them by the greatest 
 part of men of the same language are not understood. 
 V. g., coltshire, drilling, nitration, coohobation, are 
 words standing for certain complex ideas, which being 
 seldom in the minds of any but those few whose par- 
 ticular 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 recieved them 
 from others, upon hearing of these names in communi- 
 cation readily conceive those ideas in their minds; as 
 by cohobation, all the simple ideas of distilling, and 
 the pouring the liquor distilled from any thing back 
 upon the remaining matter, and distilling it again.
 
 Ii8 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 Thus we see that there are great varieties of simple 
 ideas, as of tastes and smells, '-which have no names ; 
 and of modes many more. Which either not having 
 been generally enough observed, or else not being 
 of any great use to be taken notice of in the affairs 
 and converse of men, they have not had names given 
 to them, and so pass not for species. This we shall 
 have occasion hereafter to consider more at large 
 when we come to speak of words. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 OF THE MODES OF THINKING. 
 
 I. Sensation, remembrance, contemplation, &c. 
 When the mind turns its view inwards upon itself, and 
 contemplates its own actions, thinking is the first that 
 occurs. In it the mind observes a great variety of 
 modifications, and from thence receives distinct ideas. 
 Thus the perception or thought which actually accom- 
 panies and is annexed to any impression on the body 
 made by an external object^ being distinct from all 
 other modifications of thinking, furnishes the mind 
 with a distinct idea which we call " sensation ; " which 
 is, as it were, the actual entrance of any idea into the 
 understanding by the senses. The same idea, when it 
 again recurs without the operation of the like object on 
 the external sensory, is " remembrance : " if it be sought 
 after by the mind, and with pain and endeavour found, 
 and brought again in view, it is " recollection : " if it be 
 held there long under attentive consideration, it is 
 " contemplation : " when ideas float in our mind with- 
 out any reflection or regard of the understanding, it is 
 that which the French call reverie; our language has
 
 OF THE MODES OF THINKING. 119 
 
 scarce a name for it: when the ideas that offer them- 
 selves (for, as I have observed in another place, whilst 
 we are awake there will always be a train of ideas 
 succeeding one another in our minds) are taken notice 
 of, and, as it were, registered in the memory, it is 
 " attention : " when the mind with great earnestness, 
 and of choice, fixes its view on any idea, considers it 
 on all sides, and will not be called off by the ordinary 
 solicitation of other ideas, it is that we call " inten- 
 sion," or " study ; " " sleep," without dreaming is rest 
 from all these : and " dreaming " itself is the having of 
 ideas (whilst the outward senses are stopped, so that 
 they receive not outward objects with their usual 
 quickness) in the mind, not suggested by any external 
 objects or known occasion, nor under any choice or 
 conduct of the understanding at all ; and whether that 
 which we call " ecstasy " be not dreaming with the 
 eyes open, I leave to be examined. 
 
 2. These are some few instances of those various 
 modes of thinking which the mind may observe in 
 itself, and so have as distinct ideas of as it hath of 
 white and red, a square or a circle. I do not pretend to 
 enumerate them all, nor to treat at large of this set 
 of ideas which are got from reflection ; that would be 
 to make a volume. It suffices to my present purpose 
 to have shown here, by some few examples, of what 
 sort these ideas are, and how the mind comes by 
 them ; especially since I shall have occasion hereafter 
 to treat more at large of reasoning, judging, volition, 
 and knowledge, which are some of the most consid- 
 erable 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 digres- 
 sion, nor wholly impertinent to our present design, rf
 
 120 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 we reflect here upon the different state of the mind 
 in thinking which those instances of attention, reverie, 
 and dreaming, &c., before mentioned, naturally enough 
 suggest. That there are ideas, some or other, always 
 present in the mind of a waking man, every one's ex- 
 perience convinces him; though the mind employs it- 
 self about them with several degrees of attention. 
 Sometimes the mind fixes itself with so much earnest- 
 ness on the contemplation of some objects, that it 
 turns their ideas on all sides, marks their relations 
 and circumstances, and views every part so nicely, and 
 with such intension, 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 pro- 
 duce very sensible perceptions ; at other times, it barely 
 observes the train of ideas that succeed in the under- 
 standing without directing and pursuing any of them ; 
 and at other times it lets them pass almost quite un- 
 regarded, as faint shadows that make no impression. 
 4. Hence it is probable that thinking is the action, 
 not essence, of the soul This difference of intension 
 and remission of the mind in thinking, with a great 
 variety of degrees between earnest study and very 
 near minding nothing at all, every one, I think, has 
 experimented in himself. Trace it a little farther, and 
 you find the mind in sleep retired, as it were, from the 
 senses, and out of the reach of those motions made on 
 the organs of sense, which at other times produce very 
 vivid and sensible ideas. I need not, for this, instance 
 in those who sleep out whole stormy nights without 
 hearing the thunder, or seeing the lightning, or feeling 
 the shaking of the house, which are sensible enough 
 to those who are waking. But in this retirement of 
 the mind from the senses, it often retains a yet more
 
 OF THE MODES OF THINKING. 121 
 
 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 con- 
 clude from hence is, that since the mind can sensibly 
 put on, at several times, several degrees of thinking; 
 and be sometimes even in a waking man so remiss as 
 to have thoughts dim and obscure, to that degree that 
 they are very little removed from none at all; and at 
 last, in the dark retirements of sound sleep, loses the 
 sight perfectly of all ideas whatsoever; since, I say, 
 this is evidently so in matter of fact and constant ex- 
 perience, I ask, whether it be not probable, that think- 
 ing is the action and not the essence of the soul ? since 
 the operations of agents will easily admit of intension 
 and remission ; but the essences of things ate not con- 
 ceived capable of any such variation. But this by 
 the by. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 OF MODES OF PLEASURE AND PAIN. 
 
 I. Pleasure and pain simple ideas. Amongst the 
 simple ideas which we receive both from sensation 
 and reflection, pain and pleasure are two very consid- 
 erable ones. For as in the body there is sensation 
 barely in itself, or accompanied with pain or pleasure ; 
 so the thought or perception of the mind is simply so, 
 or else accompanied also with pleasure or pain, de- 
 light or trouble, call it how you please. These, like 
 other simple ideas, cannot be described, nor their
 
 122 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 names defined : the way of knowing them is, as of the 
 simple ideas of the senses, only by experience. For 
 to define them by the presence of good or evil, is 
 no otherwise to make them known to us than by 
 making us reflect on what we feel in ourselves, upon 
 the several and various operations of good and evil 
 upon our minds, as they are differently applied to or 
 considered by us. 
 
 2. Good and evil, what. Things then are good or 
 evil only in reference to pleasure or pain. That we 
 call " good," which is apt to cause or increase pleasure, 
 or diminish pain, in us ; or else to procure or preserve 
 us the possession of any other good, or absence of any 
 evil. And, on the contrary, we name that " evil," 
 which is apt to produce or increase any pain, or dimin- 
 ish 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, some- 
 times occasioned by disorder in the body, sometimes 
 by thoughts in the mind. 
 
 3. Our passions moved by good and evil. Pleas- 
 ure and pain, and that which causes them, good and 
 evil, are the hinges on which our passions turn: and 
 if we reflect on ourselves, and observe how these, 
 under various considerations, operate in us, what 
 modifications or tempers of mind, what internal sensa- 
 tions (if I may so call them) they produce in us, we 
 may thence form to ourselves the ideas of our pas- 
 sions. 
 
 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
 
 OF MODES OF PLEASURE AND PAIN. 123 
 
 call " love." For when a man declares in autumn, 
 when he is eating them, or in spring, when there are 
 none, that he loves grapes, it is no more but that the 
 taste of grapes delights him : let an alteration of health 
 or constitution destroy the delight of their taste, and 
 he then can be said to love grapes no longer. 
 
 5. Hatred. On the contrary, the thought of the 
 pain which any thing present or absent is apt to pro- 
 duce in us, is what we call " hatred." Were it my 
 business here to inquire any further than into the bare 
 ideas of our passions, as they depend on different 
 modifications of pleasure and pain, I should remark, 
 that our love and hatred of inanimate, insensible be- 
 ings is commonly founded on that pleasure and pain 
 which we receive from their use and application any 
 way to our senses, though with their destruction; but 
 hatred or love to beings capable of happiness or mis- 
 ery, 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 constant de- 
 light in him, he is said constantly to love them. But it 
 suffices to note, that our ideas of love and hatred are but 
 the dispositions of the mind in respect of pleasure and 
 pain in general, however caused in us. 
 
 6. Desire. The uneasiness a man finds in himself 
 upon the absence of any thing whose present enjoy- 
 ment carries the idea of delight with it, is that we 
 call " desire," which is greater or less as that uneasi- 
 ness 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 un- 
 easiness: for, whatsoever good is proposed, if its ab- 
 sence carries no displeasure nor pain with it, if a man
 
 124 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 be easy and content without it, there is no desire of it, 
 nor endeavour after it; there is no more but a bare 
 velleity, the term used to signify the lowest degree 
 of desire, and that which is next to none at all, when 
 there is so little uneasiness in the absence of any 
 thing, that it carries a man no farther 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 un- 
 attainableness of the good proposed, as far as the 
 uneasiness is cured or allayed by that consideration. 
 This might carry our thoughts farther, were it season- 
 able in this place.] 
 
 Joy. Joy is a delight of the mind from the con- 
 sideration of the present or assured approaching pos- 
 session of a good; and we are then possessed of any 
 good, when we have it so in our power that we can 
 use it when we please. Thus a man almost starved 
 has a joy at the arrival of relief, even before he has 
 the pleasure of using it; and a father in whom the 
 very well-being of his children causes delight is 
 always, as long as his children are in such a state, in 
 the possession of that good; for he needs but to re- 
 flect on it to have that pleasure. 
 
 8. Sorrow. Sorrow is uneasiness in the mind up- 
 on the thought of a good lost, which might have been 
 enjoyed longer; or the sense of a present evil. 
 
 9. Hope. Hope is that pleasure in the mind which 
 every one finds in himself, upon the thought of a 
 profitable future enjoyment of a thing which is apt to 
 delight him. 
 
 10. Fear. Fear is an uneasiness of the mind, up- 
 on the thought of future evil likely to befal us. 
 
 11. Despair. Despair is the thought of trie unat-
 
 OF MODES OF PLEASURE AND PAIN. 125 
 
 tainableness of any good, which works differently in 
 men's minds ; sometimes producing uneasiness or pain, 
 sometimes rest and indolency. 
 
 12. Anger. Anger is uneasiness or discomposure 
 of the mind upon the receipt of any injury, with a 
 present purpose of revenge. 
 
 13. Envy. Envy is an uneasiness of the mind 
 caused by the consideration of a good we desire, ob- 
 tained by one we think should not have had it before us. 
 
 14. What passions all men have. These two last, 
 " envy " and " anger," not being caused by pain and 
 pleasure simply in themselves, but having in them 
 some mixed considerations of ourselves and others, 
 are not therefore to be found in all men, because those 
 other parts of valuing their merits, or intending re- 
 venge, is wanting in them; but all the rest, terminat- 
 ed purely in pain and pleasure, are, I think, to be found 
 in all men. For we love, desire, rejoice and hope, only 
 in respect of pleasure; we hate fear, and grieve, only 
 in respect of pain ultimately : in fine, all these passions 
 are moved by things only as they appear to be the 
 causes of pleasure and pain, or to have pleasure or 
 pain some way or other annexed to them. Thus we 
 extend our hatred usually to the subject (at least, if a 
 sensible or voluntary agent) which has produced pain 
 in us, because the fear it leaves is a constant pain; 
 but we do not so constantly love what has done us 
 good, because pleasure operates not so strongly on us 
 as pain, and because we are not so ready to have hope 
 it will do so again. But this by the by. 
 
 15. Pleasure and pain, what. By " pleasure " and 
 " pain," " delight " and " uneasiness," I must all along 
 be understood (as I have above intimated) to mean, 
 not only bodily pain and pleasure, but whatsoever de-
 
 126 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 light or uneasiness is felt by us, whether arising from 
 any grateful or unacceptable sensation or reflection. 
 
 16. It is farther to be considered, that, in refer- 
 ence to the passions, the removal or lessening of a pain 
 is considered and operates as a pleasure ; and the loss 
 or diminishing of a pleasure, as a pain. 
 
 17. Shame. The passions, too, have most of them, 
 in most persons, operations on the body, and cause 
 various changes in it; which, not being always sen- 
 sible do not make a necessary part of the idea of 
 each passion. For shame, which is an uneasiness of 
 the mind upon the thought of having done something 
 which is indecent, or will lessen the valued esteem 
 which others have for us, has not always blushing 
 accompanying it. 
 
 18. These instances do shon' hoiv our ideas of the 
 passions are got from sensation and reflection. I 
 would not be mistaken here, as if I meant this as a 
 discourse of the passions; they are many more than 
 those I have here named : and those I have taken no- 
 tice 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 in- 
 stanced in other modes of pleasure and pain more sim- 
 ple than these; as the pain of hunger and thirst, and 
 the pleasure of eating and drinking to remove them; 
 the pain of. teeth set on edge, 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 discover}- of 
 truth. But the passions being of much more con- 
 cernment to us, I rather made choice to instance in
 
 OF MODES OF PLEASURE AND PAIN. 127 
 
 them, and show how the ideas we have of them are 
 derived from sensation and reflection. 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 OF POWER. 
 
 I. This idea how got. The mind being every day 
 informed, by the senses, of the alteration of those sim- 
 ple 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 ; reflect- 
 ing also, on what passes within itself, and observing 
 a constant change of its ideas, sometimes by the im- 
 pression of outward objects on the senses, and some- 
 times by the determination of its own choice; and 
 concluding, from what it has so constantly observed 
 to have been, that the like changes will for the future 
 be made in the same things by like agents, and by the 
 like ways ; considers in one thing the possibility of 
 having any of its simple ideas changed, and in another 
 the possibility of making that change; and so comes 
 by that idea which we call " power." Thus we say, 
 fire has a power to melt gold ; i. e., to destroy the con- 
 sistency of its insensible parts, and consequently its 
 hardness, and make it fluid ; and gold has a power to 
 be melted: that the sun has a power to blanch wax; 
 and wax a power to be blanched by the sun, whereby 
 the yellowness is destroyed, and whiteness made to ex- 
 ist 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 altera-
 
 128 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 tion to be made, but by conceiving a change of some 
 of its ideas. 
 
 2. Power active and passive. Power thus consid- 
 ered is twofold; viz., as able to make, or able to re- 
 ceive, any change ; the one may be called " active," and 
 the other " passive," power. Whether matter be not 
 wholly destitute of active power, as its author, God, 
 is truly above all passive power; and whether the 
 intermediate state of created spirits be not that alone 
 which is capable of both active and passive power, 
 may be worth consideration. I shall not now enter 
 into that inquiry: my present business being not to 
 search into the original of power, but how we come by 
 the idea of it. But since active powers make so 
 great a part of our complex ideas of natural sub- 
 stances (as we shall see hereafter), and I mention 
 them as such, according to common apprehension ; yet 
 they being not, perhaps, so truly active powers as our 
 hasty thoughts are apt to represent them, I judge it 
 not amiss, by this intimation, to direct our minds to the 
 consideration of God and spirits, for the clearest idea 
 of active power. 
 
 3. Power includes relation. I confess power in- 
 cludes in it some kind of relation, a relation to ac- 
 tion or change; as, indeed, which of our ideas, of 
 what kind soever, when attentively considered, does 
 not ? For our ideas of extension, duration, and num- 
 ber, do they not all contain in them a secret relation 
 of the parts ? Figure and motion have something rel- 
 ative in them much more visibly. And sensible quali- 
 ties, as colours and smells, &c., what are they but 
 the powers of different bodies in relation to our percep- 
 tion, &c. ? And if considered in the things themselves, 
 do they not depend on the bulk, figure, texture, and
 
 OF POWER. 129 
 
 motion of the parts ? All which include some kind 
 of relation in them. Our idea therefore of power, 1 
 think, may well have a place amonst other simple ideas, 
 and be considered as one of them, being one of those 
 that make a principal ingredient in our complex ideas 
 of substances, as we shall hereafter have occasion to 
 observe. 
 
 4. The clearest idea of active power had from 
 spirit. [We are abundantly furnished with the idea 
 of passive power, by almost all sorts of sensible things. 
 In most of them we cannot avoid observing their sen- 
 sible qualities, nay, their very substances 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, what- 
 ever change is observed, the mind must collect a power 
 somewhere, able to make that change, as well as a 
 possibility in the thing itself to receive it. But yet, 
 if we will consider it attentively, bodies, by our senses, 
 do not afford us so clear and distinct an idea of active 
 power, as we have from reflection on the operations 
 of our minds. For, all power relating to action, and 
 there being but two sorts of action whereof we have 
 any idea, viz., thinking and motion, let us consider 
 whence we have the clearest ideas of the powers which 
 produce these actions, (i.) Of thinking, body af- 
 fords 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 af- 
 fords 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 stroke of a billiard-stick, it is not any action of
 
 130 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 the ball, but bare passion : also when by impulse it sets 
 another ball in motion that lay in its way, it only com- 
 municates the motion it had received from another, -and 
 loses in itself so much as the other received; which 
 gives us but a very obscure idea of an active 
 power of moving in body, whilst we observe it only 
 to transfer but not produce any motion. For it 
 is but a very obscure idea of power, which 
 reaches not the production of the action, but the 
 continuation of the passion. For so is motion, in a 
 body impelled by another: The continuation of the 
 alteration made in it from rest to motion being little 
 more an action, than the continuation of the alteration 
 of its figure by the same blow is an action. The idea 
 of the beginning of motion we have only from reflec- 
 tion on what passes in ourselves, where we find by 
 experience, that, barely by willing it barely by a 
 thought of the mind, we can move the parts of our 
 bodies which were before at rest. So that it seems to 
 me, we have, from the observation of the operation of 
 bodies by our senses, but a very imperfect, obscure, 
 idea of active power, since they afford us not any idea 
 in themselves of the power to begin any action, either 
 motion or thought. But if from the impulse bodies 
 are observed to make one upon another, any one thinks 
 he has a clear idea of power, it serves as well to my 
 purpose, sensation being one of those ways whereby 
 the mind comes by its ideas ; only I thought it worth 
 while to consider here by the way, whether the mind 
 doth not receive its idea of active power clearer from 
 reflection on its own operations, than it doth from any 
 external sensation. 
 
 5. Will and understanding, two powers. This at 
 least I think evident, that we find in ourselves a power
 
 OF POWER. 131 
 
 to begin or forbear, continue or end, several [actions] 
 of our minds and motions of our bodies, barely by [a 
 thought] or preference of the mind [ordering, or, as it 
 were, commanding the doing or not doing such or 
 such a particular action.] This power which the mind 
 has [thus to order] the consideration of any idea, or 
 the forbearing to consider it, or to prefer the motion 
 of any part of the body to its rest, [and vice versa, in 
 any particular instance,] is that which we call " the 
 will." The actual [exercise of that power, by directing 
 any particular action or its forbearance,] is that which 
 we call " volition " or " willing/' [The forbearance of 
 that action consequent to such order or command of" 
 the mind, is called " voluntary ; " and whatsoever ac- 
 tion is performed without such a thought of the mind, 
 is called " involuntary."] The power of perception is 
 that which we call " the understanding." Perception, 
 which we make the act of the understanding, is of 
 three sorts: (i.) The perception of ideas in our 
 minds. (2.) The perception of the signification of 
 signs. (3.) The perception of the [connexion or re- 
 pugnancy,] agreement or disagreement, [that there is 
 between any of our] ideas. All thesa are attributed 
 to the understanding, or perceptive power, though it 
 be [the two latter only that use allows us to say we 
 understand.] 
 
 6. Faculties. These powers of the mind, viz., of 
 perceiving and of preferring, are usually called by 
 another name : and the ordinary way of speaking, is 
 that the understanding and will are two faculties of 
 the mind ; a word proper enough, if it be used, as all 
 words should be, so as not to breed any confusion in 
 men's thoughts by being supposed (as I suspect it 
 has been) to stand for some real beings in the soul,
 
 132 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 that performed those actions of understanding and 
 volition. For when we say, the will is the command- 
 ing and superior faculty of the soul; that it is or is 
 not free ; that it determines the inferior faculties ; that 
 it follows the dictates of the understanding, &c. ; 
 though these and the like expressions, by those that 
 carefully attend to their own ideas, and conduct their 
 thoughts more by the evidence of things than the 
 sound of words, may be understood in a clear and 
 distinct sense: yet I suspect, I say, that this way of 
 speaking of faculties has misled many into a confused 
 notion of so many distinct agents in us, which had their 
 several provinces and authorities, and did command, 
 obey, and perform several actions, as so many distinct 
 beings; which has been no small occasion of wrang- 
 ling, obscurity, and uncertainty in questions relating to 
 them. 
 
 7. Whence the ideas of liberty and necessity. 
 Every one, I think, finds in himself a power to begin 
 or forbear, continue or put an end to, several actions 
 in himself. [From the consideration of the extent of 
 this power of the mind over the actions of the man, 
 which every one finds in himself, arise the ideas of 
 liberty and necessity.] 
 
 8. Liberty, what. All the actions that we have any 
 idea of, reducing themselves, as has been said, to these 
 two, viz., thinking and motion, so far as a man has 
 a power to think or not to think, to move or not to 
 move, according to the preference or direction of his 
 own mind, so far is a man free. Wherever any per- 
 formance or forbearance are not equally in a man's 
 power, wherever doing or not doing will not equally 
 follow upon the preference of his mind directing it, 
 there he is not free, though perhaps the action may
 
 OF POWER. 133 
 
 be voluntary. So that the idea of liberty is the idea 
 of a power in any agent to do or forbear any partic- 
 ular action, according to the determination or thought 
 of the mind, whereby either of them is preferred to 
 the other; where either of them is not in the power 
 of the agent, to be produced by him according to his 
 volition, there he is not at liberty, that agent is under 
 necessity. So that liberty cannot be where there is no 
 thought, no volition, no will ; but there may be thought, 
 there may be will, there may be volition, where there 
 is no liberty. A little consideration of an obvious in- 
 stance or two may make this clear. 
 
 9. Supposes the understanding and will. A tennis- 
 ball, whether in motion by the stroke of a racket, or 
 lying still at rest, is not by any one taken to be a 
 free agent. If we inquire into the reason, we shall 
 find it is, because we conceive not a tennis-ball to think, 
 and consequently not to have any volition, or prefer- 
 ence of motion to rest, or vice versa; and therefore 
 has not liberty, is not a free agent ; but all its both mo- 
 tion and rest come under our idea of necessary, and 
 are so called. Likewise a man falling into the water 
 (a bridge breaking under him) has not herein lib- 
 erty, is not a free agent. For though he has volition, 
 though he prefers his not falling to falling; yet the 
 forbearance of that motion not being in his power, 
 the stop or cessation of that motion follows not upon 
 his volition; and therefore therein he is not free. So 
 a man striking himself or his friend, by a convulsive 
 motion of his arm, which it is not in his power, by 
 volition or the direction of his mind, to stop or forbear, 
 nobody thinks he has, in this, liberty ; every one pities 
 him, as acting by necessity and restraint. 
 
 10. Belongs not to volition. Again: Suppose a
 
 134 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 man be carried, whilst fast asleep, into a room, where 
 is a person he longs to see and speak with, and be there 
 locked fast in, beyond his power to get out ; he awakes, 
 and is glad to find himself in so desirable company, 
 which he stays willingly in, i.e., prefers his stay to 
 going away. I ask, is not this stay voluntary? I 
 think nobody will doubt it; and yet, being locked fast 
 in, it is evident he is not at liberty not to stay, he 
 has not freedom to be gone. So that liberty is not 
 an idea belonging to volition, or preferring ; but to the 
 person having the power of doing, or forbearing to 
 do, according as the mind shall choose or direct. Our 
 idea of liberty reaches as far as that power, and no 
 farther. For wherever restraint comes to check that 
 power, or compulsion takes away that indifferency of 
 ability to act, or to forbear acting, there liberty, and our 
 notion of it, presently ceases. 
 
 ii. Voluntary opposed to involuntary, not to nec- 
 essary. We have instances enough, and often more 
 than enough, in our own bodies. A man's heart beats, 
 and the blood circulates, which it is not in his power by 
 any thought or volition to stop; and therefore, in 
 respect of these motions, where rest depends not on his 
 choice, nor would follow the determination of his mind, 
 if it should prefer it, he is not a free agent. Convul- 
 sive motions agitate his legs, so that, though he wills 
 it ever so much, he cannot by any power of his mind 
 stop their motion (as in that odd disease called chorea 
 sancti Viti), but he is perpetually dancing: he is not 
 at liberty in this action, but under as much necessity 
 of moving as a stone that falls or a tennis-ball struck 
 with a racket. On the other side, a palsy or the stocks 
 hinder his legs from obeying the determination of his 
 mind, if it would thereby transfer his body to another
 
 OF POWER. 135 
 
 place. In all these there is want of freedom, though 
 the sitting still even of a paralytic, whilst he prefers 
 it to a removal, is truly voluntary. Voluntary, then, 
 is not opposed to necessary, but to involuntary. For 
 a man may prefer what he can do, to what he cannot 
 do ; the state he is in, to its absence or change, though 
 necessity has made it in itself unalterable. 
 
 12. Liberty, what. As it is in the motions of the 
 body, so it is in the thoughts of our minds : where 
 any one is such, that we have power to take it up, or 
 lay it by, according to the preference of the mind, there 
 we are at liberty. A waking man, being under the 
 necessity of having some ideas constantly in his mind, 
 is not at liberty to think, or not to think, no more 
 than he is at liberty, whether his body shall touch any 
 other or no: but whether he will remove his contem- 
 plation from one idea to another, is many times in his 
 choice ; and then he is, in respect of his ideas, as much 
 at liberty as he is in respect of bodies he rests on: he 
 can at pleasure remove himself from one to another. 
 But yet some ideas to the mind, like some motions to 
 the body, are such as in certain circumstances it can- 
 not avoid, nor obtain their absence by the utmost effort 
 it can use. A man on the rack is not at liberty to lay 
 by the idea of pain, and divert himself with other 
 contemplations: and sometimes a boisterous passion 
 hurries our thoughts, as a hurricane does our bodies, 
 without leaving us the liberty of thinking on other 
 things, which we would rather choose. But as soon 
 as the mind regains the power to stop or continue, be- 
 gin or forbear any of these motions of the body with- 
 out, or thoughts within, according as it thinks fit to 
 prefer either to the other, we then consider the man 
 as a free agent again.
 
 136 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 13. Necessity, what. Wherever thought is wholly 
 wanting, or the power to act or forbear according to 
 the direction of thought, there necessity takes place. 
 This, in an agent capable of volition, when the begin- 
 ning or continuation of any action is contrary to that 
 preference of his mind, is called " compulsion ; " when 
 the hindering or stopping any action is contrary to this 
 volition, it is called " restraint." Agents that have 
 no thought, no volition at all, are in every thing neces- 
 sary agents. 
 
 14. Liberty belongs not to the will. If this be so 
 (as I imagine it is), I leave it to be considered, wheth- 
 er it may not help to put an end to that long agitated, 
 and I think unreasonable, because unintelligible ques- 
 tion, viz., Whether man's will be free or no? For, if 
 I mistake not, it follows, from what I have said that 
 the question itself is altogether improper; and it is 
 as insignificant to ask whether man's will be free, as to 
 ask w r hether his sleep be swift, or his virtue square: 
 liberty being as little applicable to the will, as swiftness 
 of motion is to sleeep, or squareness to virtue. Every 
 one would laugh at the absurdity of such a question 
 as either of these ; because it is obvious that the modi- 
 fications of motion belong not to sleep, nor the differ- 
 ence of figure to virtue: and when any one well con- 
 siders it, I think he will as plainly perceive, that liberty, 
 which is but a power, belongs only to agents, and can- 
 not be an attribute or modification of the will, which is 
 also but a power. 
 
 15. Volition. [Such is the difficulty of explaining 
 and giving clear notions of internal actions by sounds, 
 that I must here warn my reader that " ordering, di- 
 recting, choosing, preferring," &c., which I have made 
 use of, will not distinctly enough express volition unless
 
 OF POWER. 137 
 
 he will reflect on what he himself does when he wills. 
 For example : " Preferring," which seems perhaps 
 best to express the act of volition, does it not precisely. 
 For though a man would prefer flying to walking, yet 
 who can say he ever wills it? Volition, it is plain, is 
 an act of the mind knowingly exerting that dominion 
 it takes itself to have over any part of the man, by 
 employing it in or withholding it from any partic- 
 ular action.] And what is the will, but the faculty to 
 do this ? And is that faculty any thing more in effect 
 than a power, the power of [the mind to determine its 
 thought to the producing, continuing, or stopping any 
 action, as far as it depends on us ?] For, can it be de- 
 nied, that whatever agent has a power to think on its 
 own actions, and to prefer their doing or omission 
 either to other, has that faculty called " will ? " Will 
 then is nothing but such a power. Liberty, on the 
 other side, is the power a man has to do or forbear 
 doing any particular action, according as its doing or 
 forbearance has the actual preference in the mind; 
 which is the same thing as to say, according as he 
 himself wills it. 
 
 1 6. Powers belong to agents. It is plain then that 
 the will is nothing but one power or ability, and free- 
 dom another power or ability: so that to ask whether 
 the will has freedom, is to ask whether one power has 
 another power, one ability another ability? a question 
 at first sight too grossly absurd to make a dispute, or 
 need an answer. For who is it that sees not, that 
 powers belong only to agents, and are attributes only 
 of substances, and not of powers themselves? So that 
 this way of putting the question, viz., Whether the will 
 be free? is in effect to ask, Whether the will be a 
 substance, an agent? or at least to suppose it, since
 
 138 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 freedom can properly be attributed to nothing else. 
 If freedom can with any propriety of speech be applied 
 to power, it may be attributed to the power that is in a 
 man to produce or forbear producing motion in parts 
 of his body, by choice or preference; which is that 
 which denominates him free, and is freedom itself. 
 But if any one should ask whether freedom were free, 
 he would be suspected not to understand well what he 
 said ; and he would be thought to deserve Midas's ears, 
 who, knowing that " rich " was a denomination from 
 the possession of riches, should demand whether riches 
 themselves were rich. 
 
 17. However the name " faculty " which men have 
 given to this power called the " will," and whereby 
 they have been led into a way of talking of the will 
 as acting, may, by an appropriation that disguises its 
 true sense, serve a little to palliate the absurdity; yet 
 the will, in truth, signifies nothing but a power or abil- 
 ity to prefer or choose; and when the will, under the 
 name of a " faculty," is considered as it is, barely as 
 an ability to do something, the absurdity in saying it is 
 free or not free, will easily discover itself. For if it 
 be reasonable to suppose and talk of faculties as dis- 
 tinct beings that can act (as we do when we say, 
 " The will orders," and " The will is free,") it is fit 
 that we should make a speaking faculty, and a walking 
 faculty, and a dancing faculty, by which those actions 
 are produced which are but several modes of motion; 
 as well as we make the will and understanding to be 
 faculties by which the actions of choosing and perceiv- 
 ing are produced, which are but several modes of 
 thinking; and we may as properly say, that it is the 
 singing faculty sings, and the dancing faculty dances, 
 as that the will chooses, or that the understanding con-
 
 OF POWER. 139 
 
 ceives; or, as is usual, that the will directs the under- 
 standing, or the understanding obeys or obeys not the 
 will: it being altogether as proper and intelligible to 
 say, that the power of speaking directs the power of 
 singing, or the power of singing obeys or disobeys the 
 power of speaking. 
 
 18. This way of talking, nevertheless, has pre- 
 vailed, and, as I guess, produced great confusion. For, 
 these being all different powers in the mind or in the 
 man to do several actions, he exerts them as he thinks 
 fit : but the power to do one action is not operated on 
 by the power of doing another action. For the power 
 of thinking operates not on the power of choosing, 
 nor the power of choosing on the power of thinking; 
 no more than the power of dancing operates on the 
 power of singing, or the power of singing on the 
 power of dancing: as any one who reflects on it will 
 easily perceive: and yet this is it which we say when 
 we thus speak, that the will operates on the under- 
 standing, or the understanding on the will. 
 
 19. I grant that this or that actual thought may 
 be the occasion of volition, or exercising the power 
 a man has to choose ; or the actual choice of the mind, 
 the cause of actual thinking on this or that thing: as 
 the actual singing of such a tune may be the cause 
 of dancing such a dance ; and the actual dancing of 
 such a dance, the occasion of singing such a tune. 
 But in all these it is not one power that operates on 
 another ; but it is the mind that operates and exerts 
 these powers ; it is the man that does the action, it is the 
 agent that has power, or is able to do. For powers are 
 relations, not agents : and that which has the power 
 or not the power to operate, is that alone which is or 
 is not free, and not the power itself: for freedom,
 
 140 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 or not freedom, can belong to nothing but what has 
 or has not a power to act. 
 
 2Q. Liberty belongs not to the will. The attribut- 
 ing to faculties that which belonged not to them, has 
 given occasion to this way of talking : but the introduc- 
 ing into discourses concerning the mind, with the 
 name of faculties, a notion of their operating, has, I 
 suppose, as little advanced our knowledge in that part 
 of ourselves, as the great use and mention of the like 
 invention of faculties in the operations of the body 
 has helped us in the knowledge of physic. Not that I 
 deny there are faculties, both in the body and mind: 
 they both of them have their powers of operating, else 
 neither the one nor the other could operate. For noth- 
 ing can operate that is not able to operate ; and that is 
 not able to operate that has no power to operate. Xor 
 do I deny that those words, and the like, are to have 
 their place in the common use of languages that have 
 made them current. It looks like too much affectation 
 wholly to lay them by: and philosophy itself, though 
 it likes not a gaudy dress, yet when it appears in pub- 
 lic, must have so much complacency as to be clothed 
 in the ordinary fashion and language of the country, 
 so far as it can consist with truth and perspicuity. 
 But the fault has been that faculties have been spoken 
 of and represented as so many distinct agents. For 
 it being asked, what it was that digested the meat in 
 our stomachs? it was a ready and very satisfactory 
 answer, to say, that it was the digestive faculty. 
 " What was it that made any thing come out of the 
 body ? " The expulsive faculty. " What moved ? " 
 The motive faculty: and so in the mind, the intellec- 
 tual faculty, or the understanding, understood ; and 
 the elective faculty, or the will, willed or commanded.
 
 OF POWER. 141 
 
 This is, in short, to say that the ability to digest, di- 
 gested ; and the ability to move, moved ; and the ability 
 to understand, understood. For " faculty, ability, and 
 power," I think, are but different names of the same 
 things: which ways of speaking, when put into more 
 intelligible words, will, I think, amount to thus much; 
 that digestion is performed by something that is able 
 to digest; motion, by something able to move; and 
 understanding, by something able to understand. And 
 in truth it would be very strange, if it should be other- 
 wise; as strange as it would be for a man to be free 
 without being able to be free. 
 
 21. But to the agent or man. To return, then, to 
 the inquiry about liberty, I think the question is not 
 proper, whether the will be free, but whether a man be 
 free. Thus, I think. 
 
 First. That so far as any one can, by [the direction 
 or choice of his mind preferring] the existence of any 
 action to the non-existence of that action, and vice 
 versa, make it to exist or not exist, so far he is free. 
 For if I can by [a thought directing] the motion of my 
 finger make it move when it was at rest, or vice versa, 
 it is evident that, in respect of that, I am free ; and if 
 I can, by a like thought of my mind preferring one 
 to the other, produce either words "or silence, I am at 
 liberty to speak or hold my peace: and as far as this 
 power reaches, of acting or not acting, by the deter- 
 mination of his own thought preferring either, so far 
 is a man free. For how can we think any one freer 
 than to have the power to do what he will? And so 
 far as any one can, by preferring any action to its 
 not being, or rest to any action, produce that action or 
 rest, so far can he do what he will. For such a pre- 
 ferring of action to its absence, is the willing of it;
 
 J42 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 and we can scarce tell how to imagine any being freer 
 than to be able to do what he wills. So that, in respect 
 of actions within the reach of such a power in him, a 
 man seems as free as it is possible for freedom to make 
 him. 
 
 22. In respect of vcilling a man is not free. But 
 the inquisitive mind of man, willing to shift off from 
 himself, as far as he can, all thoughts of guilt, though 
 it be by putting himself into a worse state than that 
 of fatal necessity, is not content with this: freedom, 
 unless it reaches 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, 
 
 23. Secondly. That willing or volition being an ac- 
 tion, and freedom consisting in a power of acting or 
 not acting, a man, in respect of willing [or the act of 
 volition,] when any action in his power is once proposed 
 to his thoughts, [as presently to be done,] cannot be 
 free. The reason whereof is very manifest : for it being 
 unavoidable that the action depending on his will should 
 exist or not exist, and its existence or not-existence 
 following perfectly the determination and preference 
 of his will, he cannot avoid willing the existence or not 
 existence of that action; it is absolutely necessary 
 that he will the one or the other, i.e., prefer the one 
 to the other; since one of them must necessarily fol- 
 low ; and that which does follow, follows by the choice 
 and determination of his mind ; that is, by his willing 
 it : for if he did not will it, it would not be. So that,
 
 OF POWER. 143 
 
 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 
 voluntary. But the act of volition, or preferring one 
 of the two, being that \vhich he cannot avoid, a man, 
 in respect of that act of willing, 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 a man is not at liberty 
 to will or not to will, anything in his power that he 
 once considers of; liberty consisting in a power to act, 
 or to forbear acting, and in that only. For a man that 
 sits still is said yet to be at liberty, because he can walk 
 if he wills it. A man that walks is at liberty also, not 
 because he walks or moves ; but because he can stand 
 still if he wills it. But if a man sitting still has not 
 a power to remove himself, he is not at liberty ; so like- 
 wise a man falling down a precipice, though in mo- 
 tion, is not at liberty, because he cannot stop that 
 motion if he would. This being so, it is plain that 
 a man that is walking, to whom it is proposed to give 
 off walking, is not at liberty whether he will de- 
 termine himself to walk or give off walking, or not, 
 he must necessarily prefer one or the other of them, 
 walking or not walking; and so it is in regard of 
 all other actions in our power [so proposed, which 
 are the far greater number. For, considering the
 
 144 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 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 to act 
 or not to act, wherein consists liberty. The mind in 
 that case has not a power to forbear willing; it can- 
 not 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 ac- 
 tion, 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 con- 
 tinuation or change becomes unavoidably voluntary. 
 
 25. The will determined by something ivithout it. 
 Since then it is plain that in most cases a man is not 
 at liberty whether he will or no, (for when an action 
 in his power is proposed to his thoughts, he cannot 
 forbear volition; he must determine one way or the 
 other) ; the next thing demanded is, whether a man be 
 at liberty to will which of the two he pleases, motion or 
 rest ? This question carries the absurdity of it so mani- 
 festly 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 an- 
 other, and another to determine that ; and so on in in- 
 finitum.
 
 OF POWER. 145 
 
 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 volition were well fixed in 
 our understandings, and carried along with us in our 
 minds, as they ought, through all the questions that are 
 raised about them, I suppose a great part of the diffi- 
 culties that perplex men's thoughts and entangle their 
 understandings would be much easier resolved; and 
 \ve should perceive where the confused signification 
 of terms, or where the nature of the thing, caused the 
 obscurity. 
 
 27. Freedom. First, then, it is carefully to be re- 
 membered, that freedom consists in the dependence of 
 the existence or not existence of any action upon our 
 volition of it, and not in the dependence of any action, 
 or its contrary, on our preference. A man standing 
 on a cliff is at liberty to leap twenty yards downwards 
 into the sea, not because he has a power to do the 
 contrary action, which is to leap twenty yards upwards, 
 for that he cannot do ; but he is therefore free, because 
 he has a power to leap or not to leap. But if a great- 
 er force than his either holds him fast, or tumbles him 
 down, he is no longer free in that case: because the 
 doing or forbearance of that particular action is no 
 longer in his power. He that is a close prisoner in a 
 room twenty-feet square, being at the north side of 
 his chamber, is at liberty to walk twenty feet south- 
 ward, because he can walk or not walk it ; but is not at 
 the same time at liberty to do the contrary ; i. e., to 
 walk twenty feet northward. 
 
 In this, then, consists freedom, viz., in our being able 
 to act, or not to act, according as we shall choose or 
 will.
 
 146 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 28. Volition what. [Secondly. We must remem- 
 ber that volition, or willing, is an act of the mind di- 
 recting its thought to the production of any action, 
 and thereby exerting its power to produce it. To 
 avoid multiplying of words, I would crave leave here, 
 under the word " action," to comprehend the forbear- 
 ance, too, of any action proposed ; sitting still, or hold- 
 ing one's peace, when walking or speaking are pro- 
 posed, though mere forbearances, requiring as much 
 the determination of the will, and being often as 
 weighty in their consequences, as the contrary actions, 
 may, on that consideration, well enough pass for ac- 
 tions too : but this I say that I may not be mistaken, if 
 for brevity's sake I speak thus. 
 
 29. What determines the Kill. Thirdly. The will 
 being nothing but a power in the mind to direct the 
 operative faculties of a man to motion or rest, as far 
 as they depend on such direction; to the question, 
 " What is it determines the will ? " the true and proper 
 answer is, The mind. For that which determines the 
 general power of directing to this or that particular 
 direction, is nothing but the agent itself exercising the 
 power it has that particular way. If this answer satis- 
 fies not, it is plain the meaning of the question, " What 
 determines the will ? " is this, " What moves the mind 
 in every particular instance to determine its general 
 power, of directing to this or that particular motion 
 or rest?" And to this I answer, The motive for con- 
 tinuing in the same state or action is only the present 
 satisfaction in it ; the motive to change is always some 
 uneasiness: nothing setting us upon the change of 
 state, or upon any new action, but some uneasiness. 
 This is the great motive that works on the mind to put 
 it upon action, which for shortness' sake we will call
 
 OF POWER. 147 
 
 " determining of the will ; " which 1 shall more at large 
 explain. 
 
 30. Will and desire must not be confounded. But, 
 in the way to it, it will be necessary to premise, that 
 though I have above endeavoured to express the act 
 of volition by " choosing, preferring," and the like 
 terms, that signify desire as well as volition, for want 
 of other words to mark that act of the mind whose 
 proper name is " willing " or " volition ; " yet it being 
 a very simple act, whosoever desires to understand 
 what it is, will better find it by reflecting on his own 
 mind, and observing what it does when it wills, than by 
 any variety of articulate sounds whatsoever. This 
 caution of being careful not to be misled by expres- 
 sions that do not enough keep up the difference 
 between the will and several acts of the mind that are 
 quite distinct from it, I think the more necessary, be- 
 cause I find the will often confounded with several 
 of the affections, especially desire ; and one put for 
 the other, and that by men who would not willingly 
 be thought not to have had very distinct notions of 
 things, and not to have writ very clearly about them. 
 This, I imagine, has been no small occasion of ob- 
 scurity and mistake in this matter, and therefore is as 
 much as may be to be avoided ; for he that shall turn 
 his thoughts inwards upon what passes in his mind 
 when he wills, shall see that the will or power of voli- 
 tion is conversant about nothing but our own actions ; 
 terminates there ; and reaches no further ; and that voli- 
 tion is nothing but that particular determination 
 of the mind whereby, barely by a thought, the mind 
 endeavours to give rise, continuation, or stop to 
 any action which it takes to be in its power. This, 
 well considered, plainly shows that the will is per-
 
 148 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 fectly distinguished from desire, which in the very 
 same action may have a quite contrary tendency from 
 that which our will sets us upon. A man, whom 
 I cannot deny, may oblige me to use persuasions to 
 another, which, at the present time I am speaking, 
 I may wish may not prevail on him. In this case, 
 it is plain the will and desire run counter. I will the 
 action that tends one way, whilst my desire tends 
 another, and that the direct contrary way. A man who, 
 by a violent fit of the gout in his limbs, finds a dozi- 
 ness in his head or a want of appetite in his stomach 
 removed, desires to be eased too of the pain of his 
 feet or hands (for wherever there is pain there is a 
 desire to be rid of it, though yet, whilst he appre- 
 hends that the removal of the pain may translate the" 
 noxious humour to a more vital part, his will is never 
 determined to any one action that may serve to remove 
 this pain. Whence it is evident that desiring and 
 willing are two distinct acts of the mind, and con- 
 sequently that the will, which is but the power of 
 volition, is much more distinct from desire. 
 
 31. Uneasiness determines the will. To return, 
 then, to the inquiry, " What is it that determines the 
 will in regard to our actions ? " And that upon second 
 thoughts I am apt to imagine, is not, as is generally 
 supposed, the greater good in view, but some (and, 
 for the most part, the most pressing) uneasiness a 
 man is at present under. This is that which suc- 
 cessively determines the will, and sets us upon those 
 actions we perform. This uneasiness we may call, 
 as it is, " desire ;" which is an uneasiness of the mind 
 for want of some absent good. All pain of the body, 
 of what sort soever, and disquiet of the mind, is 
 uneasiness; and with this is always joined desire
 
 OF POWER. 149 
 
 equal to the pain or uneasiness felt, and is scarce 
 distinguishable from it. For, desire being nothing but 
 an uneasiness in the want of an absent good, in refer- 
 ence to any pain felt, ease is that absent good ; and till 
 that ease be attained, we may call it desire, nobody 
 feeling pain that he wishes not to be eased of with a 
 desire equal to that pain, and inseparable from it. 
 Besides this desire of ease from pain, there is another 
 of absent positive good; and here also the desire and 
 uneasiness is equal. As much as we desire any absent 
 good, so much are we in pain for it. But here 
 all absent good does not, according to the greatness 
 it has, or is acknowledged to have, cause pain equal 
 to that greatness; as all pain causes desire equal to 
 itself: because the absence of good is not always a 
 pain, as the presence of pain is. And therefore absent 
 good may be looked on and considered without desire. 
 But so much as there is any where of desire, so much 
 there is of uneasiness. 
 
 32. Desire is uneasiness. That desire is a state of 
 uneasiness, every one who reflects on himself will 
 quickly find. Who is there that has not felt in desire 
 what the wise man says of hope (which is not much 
 different from it), that it being deferred makes the 
 heart sick? and that still proportionable to the great- 
 ness of the desire, which sometimes raises the uneasi- 
 ness to that pitch that it makes people cry out, " Give 
 me children," give me the thing desired, "or I die?" 
 Life itself, and all its enjoyments, is a burden cannot 
 be borne under the lasting and unremoved pressure of 
 such an uneasiness. 
 
 33. The uneasiness of desire determines the will. 
 Good and evil, present and absent, it is true, work 
 upon the mind; but that which immediately deter-
 
 150 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 mines the will, from time to time, to every voluntary 
 action, is the uneasiness of desire, fixed on some 
 absent good, either negative, as indolence to one in 
 pain, or positive, as enjoyment of pleasure. That it 
 is this uneasiness that determines the will to the suc- 
 cessive voluntary actions whereof the greatest part 
 of our lives is made up, and by which we are con- 
 ducted through different courses to different ends, I 
 shall endeavour to show both from experience and 
 the reason of the thing. 
 
 34. This 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, suitable 
 to our constitution and frame, and knowing what it 
 is that determines the will, has put into man the un- 
 easiness of hunger and thirst, and other natural de- 
 sires, that return at their seasons, to move and deter- 
 mine their wills, for the preservation of themselves 
 and the continuation of their species. For I think 
 we may conclude, that if the bare contemplation of 
 these good ends to which we are carried by these 
 several uneasinesses, had been sufficient to determine 
 the will, and set us on work, we should have had none 
 of these natural pains, and perhaps in this world little 
 or no pain at all. " It is better to marry than to burn," 
 says St. Paul ; where we may see what it is that chiefly 
 drives men into the enjoyments of a conjugal life. A 
 little burning felt pushes us more powerfully than 
 greater pleasures in prospect draw or allure. 
 
 35. The greatest positive good determines not the 
 will, but uneasiness. It seems so established and set-
 
 OF POWER. 151 
 
 tied a maxim, by the general consent of all mankind, 
 that good, the greater good, determines the will, that 
 I do not at all wonder that, when I first published my 
 thoughts on this subject, I took it for granted; and 
 I imagine, that by a great many I shall be thought 
 more excusable for having then done so, than that 
 now I have ventured to recede from so received an 
 opinion. But yet upon a stricter inquiry, I am forced 
 to conclude that good, the greater good, though ap- 
 prehended and acknowledged to be so, does not deter- 
 mine the will until our desire, raised proportionably 
 to it, makes us uneasy in the want of it. Convince a 
 man never so much that plenty has its advantages 
 over poverty; make him see and own that the hand- 
 some conveniences of life are better than nasty penury ; 
 yet as long as he is content with the latter, and finds 
 no uneasiness in it, he moves not ; his will never is 
 determined to any action that shall bring him out of 
 it. Let a man be ever so well persuaded of the 
 advantages of virtue, that it is as necessary to a man 
 who has any great aims in this world or hopes in the 
 next, as food to life : yet till he " hungers or thirsts 
 after righteousness," till he feels an uneasiness in the 
 want of it, his will will not be determined to any 
 action in pursuit of this confessed greater good; but 
 any other uneasiness he feels in himself shall take 
 place and carry his will to other actions. On the other 
 side, let a drunkard see that his health decays, his 
 estate wastes; discredit and diseases, and the want of 
 all things, even of his beloved drink, attends him in 
 the course he follows: yet the returns of uneasiness 
 to miss his companions, the habitual thirst after his 
 cups, at the usual time, drives him to the tavern, though 
 he has in his view the loss of health and plenty, and
 
 152 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 perhaps 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 for want of viewing the greater good; for he 
 sees and acknowledges it, and in the intervals of his 
 drinking hours will take resolutions to pursue the 
 greater good; but when the uneasiness to miss his 
 accustomed delight returns, the greater acknowledged 
 good loses its hold, and the present uneasiness deter- 
 mines the will to the accustomed action ; which thereby 
 gets stronger footing to prevail against the next occa- 
 sion, though he at the same time makes secret prom- 
 ises to himself that he will do so no more; this is the 
 last time he will act against the attainment of those 
 greater goods. And thus he is, from time to time, 
 in the state of that unhappy complainer, Video meliora 
 proboque, deteriora seqnor: which sentence, allowed 
 for true, and made good by constant experience, may 
 this (and possibly no other) way be easily made in- 
 telligible. 
 
 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 uneasiness, we 
 cannot apprehend ourselves happy, or in the way to 
 it; pain and uneasiness being by every one concluded 
 and felt to be inconsistent with happiness, spoiling the
 
 OF POWER. 153 
 
 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 necessary step towards happiness. 
 
 37. Because uneasiness alone is present. Another 
 reason why it is uneasiness alone determines the will 
 is this : because that alone is present, and it is against 
 the nature of things that what is absent should 
 operate where it is not. It may be said, that absent 
 good may, by contemplation, be brought home to the 
 mind, and made present. The idea of it indeed may 
 be in the mind, and viewed as present there ; but noth- 
 ing will be in the mind as a present good, able to 
 counterbalance the removal of any uneasiness which 
 we are under, till it raises our desire, and the uneasi- 
 ness of that has the 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 I shall show by and by. 
 How many are to be found that have had lively repre- 
 sentations set before their minds of the unspeakable 
 joys of heaven, which they acknowledge both possible 
 and probable too, who yet would be content to take up 
 with their happiness here! and so the prevailing un- 
 easiness of their desires, let loose after the enjoyments 
 of this life, take their turns in the determining their 
 wills, and all that while they take not one step, are 
 not one jot moved, towards the good things of another 
 life, considered as ever so great. 
 
 38. Because all who aUo^v the joys of heaven pos- 
 sible, pursue them not. Were the will determined by
 
 154 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 the views of good, as it appears in contemplation 
 greater or less to the understanding, which is the state 
 of all absent good, and that which in the received 
 opinion the will is supposed to move to and to be 
 moved by, I do not see how it could' ever get loose 
 from the infinite eternal joys of heaven, once proposed 
 and considered as possible. For all absent good, by 
 which alone, barely proposed and coming in view, the 
 will is thought to be determined, and so to set us on 
 action, being only possible, but not infallibly certain, 
 it is unavoidable that the infinitely greater possible 
 good should regularly and constantly determine the 
 will in all the succesive actions it directs; and then 
 we should keep constantly and steadily in our course 
 towards heaven, without ever standing still, or direct- 
 ing 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 attained : for noth- 
 ing 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 contem- 
 plation of the mind fixed to that good. 
 
 But any great uneasiness is never neglected. This 
 would be the state of the mind, and regular tendency 
 of the will in all its determinations, were it determined 
 by that which is considered and in view the greater 
 good; but that it is not so, is visible in experience;
 
 OF POWER. 155 
 
 the infinitely greatest confessed good being often neg- 
 lected, to satisfy the successive uneasiness of our de- 
 sires pursuing trifles. But though the greatest al- 
 lowed, 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, let it not go ; by which we may be convinced 
 what it is that determines the will. Thus any vehe- 
 ment pain of the body, the ungovernable passion of a 
 man violently in love, or the impatient desire of re- 
 venge, keeps the will steady and intent : and the will, 
 thus determined, never lets the understanding lay by 
 the object, but all the thoughts of the mind and 
 powers of the body are uninterruptedly employed that 
 way, by the determination of the will, influenced by 
 that topping uneasiness as long as it lasts : whereby it 
 seems to me evident, that the will, or power of setting 
 us upon one action in preference to all others, is de- 
 termined 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 per- 
 formed, without some desire accompanying it; which, 
 I think, is the reason why the will and desire are so 
 often confounded. But yet we are not to look upon 
 the uneasiness which makes up, or at least accom- 
 panies, 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
 
 156 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 and practice simple and alone, and wholly unmixed 
 with others; though usually, in discourse and contem- 
 plation, 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, wher- 
 ever there is uneasiness, there is desire: for we con- 
 stantly desire happiness ; and whatever we feel of un- 
 easiness, so much, it is certain, we want of happiness, 
 even in our own opinion, let our state and condition 
 otherwise be whaf it will. Besides, the present mo- 
 ment not being our eternity, whatever our enjoyment 
 be, we look beyond the present, and desire goes with 
 our foresight, and that still carries the will with it. 
 So that even in joy itself, that which keeps up the 
 action whereon the enjoyment depends, is the desire 
 to continue it, and fear to lose it; and whenever a 
 greater uneasiness than that takes place in the mind, 
 the will presently is by that determined to some new 
 action, and the present delight neglected. 
 
 40. The most pressing uneasiness naturally deter- 
 mines the will. But we being in this world beset 
 with sundry uneasinesses, distracted with different de- 
 sires, the next inquiry naturally will be, which of 
 them has the precedency in determining the will to 
 the next action? And to that the answer is, That, 
 ordinarily, which is the most pressing of those that 
 are judged capable of being then removed. For the 
 will being the power of directing our operative facul- 
 ties to some action for some end, cannot at any time 
 be moved towards what is judged at that time un- 
 attainable: 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 attain-
 
 OF POWER. 157 
 
 able: 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 uneasi- 
 ness we at that time feel, is that which ordinarily de- 
 termines the will successively in that train of volun- 
 tary actions which make up our lives. The greatest 
 present uneasiness is the spur to action that is con- 
 stantly most felt, and for the most part determines the 
 will in its choice of the next action. For this we must 
 carry along with us, that the proper and only object 
 of the will is some action of ours, and nothing else: 
 for we producing nothing by our willing it, but some 
 action in our power, it is there the will terminates, 
 and reaches no farther. 
 
 41. All desire happiness. If it be farther asked, 
 what it is moves desire? I answer, Happiness, and 
 that alone. " Happiness " and " misery " are the 
 names of two extremes, the utmost bounds whereof 
 we know not : it is what " eye hath not seen, ear hath 
 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 sor- 
 row 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 modi- 
 fications of motion. 
 
 42. Happiness, what. Happiness, then, in its full 
 extent, is the utmost pleasure we are capable of, and
 
 158 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 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 by the operation of certain 
 objects either on our minds or our bodies, and in dif- 
 ferent degrees, therefore what has an aptness to pro- 
 duce 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 produce any degree of pain be evil, yet it often hap- 
 pens that we do not call it so when it comes in com- 
 petition 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 particular man's desire; but 
 only that part, or so much of it, as is considered and 
 taken to make a necessary part of his happiness. All 
 other good, however great in reality or appearance, 
 excites not a man's desires, who looks not on it to 
 make a part of that happiness wherewith he, in his 
 present thoughts, can satisfy himself. Happiness,
 
 OF POWER. 159 
 
 under this view, every one constantly pursues, and de- 
 sires what makes any part of it : other things acknowl- 
 edged 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 can- 
 not but confess there is great pleasure in what the 
 other pursues, yet neither of them making the other's 
 delight a part of his happiness, their desires are not 
 moved, but each is satisfied without what the other 
 enjoys ; and so his will is not determined to the pursuit 
 of it. But yet, as soon as the studious man's hunger 
 and thirst make him uneasy, he whose will was never 
 determined to any pursuit of good cheer, poignant 
 sauces, delicious wine, by the pleasant taste he has 
 found in them, is, by the uneasiness of hunger and 
 thirst, presently determined to eating and drinking, 
 though possibly with great indifferency, what whole- 
 some food comes in his way. And on the other side, 
 the epicure buckles to study when shame, or the desire 
 to recommend himself to his mistress, shall make him 
 uneasy in the want of any sort of knowledge. Thus 
 how much soever men are in earnest and constant in 
 pursuit of happiness, yet they may have a clear view 
 of good, great and confessed good, without being con- 
 cerned 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 neces-
 
 160 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 sary to their happiness, as soon as any good appears 
 to make a part of their portion of happiness, 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 neces- 
 sary part of our present happiness, nor the absence of 
 it make a part of our misery: if it did, we should be 
 constantly and infinitely miserable ; there being infinite 
 degrees of happiness which are not in our possession. 
 All uneasiness therefore being removed, a moderate 
 portion of good serves at present to content men ; and 
 a few degrees of pleasure in a succession of ordi- 
 nary enjoyments make up a happiness wherein they 
 can be satisfied. If this were not so, there could be 
 no room for those indifferent and visibly trifling 
 actions to which our wills are so often determined, 
 and wherein we voluntarily waste so much of our 
 lives ; which remissness could by no means consist 
 with a constant determination of will or desire to the 
 greatest apparent good. That this is so, I think few 
 people need go far from home to be convinced. And, 
 indeed, in this life there are not many whose happiness 
 reaches so far as to afford them a constant train of 
 moderate, mean pleasures, without any mixture of un- 
 easiness; and yet they could be content to stay here 
 for ever; though they cannot deny but that it is pos-
 
 OF POWER. 161 
 
 sible 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 ap- 
 parent good, nor their wills determined to any action 
 or endeavour for its attainment. 
 
 45. Why, not being desired, it moves not the will. 
 The ordinary necessities of our lives fill a great 
 part of them with the uneasinesses of hunger, thirst, 
 heat, cold, weariness with labour, and sleepiness, in 
 their constant returns, &c., to which if, besides acci- 
 dental harms, we add the fantastical uneasiness (as 
 itch after honour, power, or riches, &c.) which ac- 
 quired habits by fashion, example, and education have 
 settled in us, and a thousand other irregular desires 
 which custom has made natural to us, we shall find 
 that a very little part of our life is so vacant from 
 these uneasinesses as to leave us free to the attraction 
 of remoter absent good. We are seldom at ease, and 
 free enough from the solicitation of our natural or 
 adopted desires, but a constant succession of uneasi- 
 nesses, out of that stock which natural wants or ac- 
 quired 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
 
 162 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 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 hap- 
 piness, 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 great- 
 ness 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 pro- 
 posed, it is in our power to raise our desires in a due 
 proportion to the value of that good whereby, in its 
 turn and place, it may come to work upon the will, 
 and be pursued. For good, though appearing and 
 allowed ever so great, yet till it has raised desires in 
 our minds, and thereby made us uneasy in its want, it 
 reaches not our wills, we are not within the sphere of 
 its activity ; our wills being under the determination 
 only of those uneasinesses which are present to us, 
 which (whilst we have any) are always soliciting, and 
 ready at hand to give the will its- next determination ; 
 the balancing, when there is any in the mind, being 
 only, which desire shall be next satisfied, which un- 
 easiness first removed. Whereby it comes to pass, 
 that as long as any uneasiness, any desire, remains in 
 our mind, there is no room for good, barely as such. 
 to come at the will, or at all to determine it. Because,
 
 OF POWER. 163 
 
 as has been said, the first step in our endeavours after 
 happiness being to get wholly out of the confines of 
 misery and to feel no part of it, the will can be at 
 leisure for nothing else till every uneasiness we feel 
 be perfectly removed; which, in the multitude of 
 wants and desires we are beset with in this imperfect 
 state, we are not like to be ever freed from in this 
 world. 
 
 47. The power to suspend the prosecution of any 
 desire, makes way for consideration. There being in 
 us a great many uneasinesses always soliciting, and 
 ready to determine, the will, it is natural, as I have 
 said, that the greatest and most pressing should deter- 
 mine the will to the next action ; and so it does for the 
 most part, but not always. For the mind having in 
 most cases, as is evident in experience, a power to 
 suspend the execution and satisfaction of any of its 
 desires, and so all, one after another is at liberty to 
 consider the objects of them, examine them on all 
 sides, and weigh them with others. In this lies the 
 liberty man has ; and from the not using of it right, 
 comes all that variety of mistakes, errors, and faults 
 which we run into in the conduct of our lives, and our 
 endeavours after happiness ; whilst we precipitate the 
 determination of our wills, and engage too soon before 
 due examination. To prevent this, we have a power 
 to suspend the prosecution of this or that desire, as 
 every one daily may experiment in himself. This 
 seems to me the source of all liberty ; in this seems to 
 consist that which is (as I think improperly called 
 " free-will." For during this suspension of any de- 
 sire, before the will be determined to action, and the 
 action (which follows that determination) done, we 
 have opportunity to examine, view, and judge of the
 
 164 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 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 OK.II judgment, is no 
 restraint to liberty. This is so far from being a re- 
 straint 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 determinable by its last judgment of 
 the good or evil that is thought to attend its choice, 
 would be so far from being an advantage and excel- 
 lency of an 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 indiffer- 
 ency, whether he would prefer the lifting up his hand, 
 or its remaining in rest, when it would save his head 
 or eyes from a blow he sees coming: it is as much a 
 perfection that desire, or the power of preferring, 
 should be determined by good, as that the power of 
 acting should be determined by the will; and the cer- 
 tainer such determination is, the greater is the per- 
 fection. Nay, were we determined by* any thing but 
 the last result of our own minds judging of the good
 
 OF POWER. 165 
 
 or evil of any action, we were not free ; [the very end 
 of our freedom being, that we may attain the good we 
 choose. And therefore 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 him- 
 self, 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 admit- 
 ted.] 
 
 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 being determined by what is best. 
 
 50. A constant determination to a pursuit of hap- 
 piness, no abridgment of liberty. But, to give a right 
 view of this mistaken part of liberty, let me ask, 
 Would any one be a changeling because he is less de- 
 termined by wise considerations than a wise man? Is 
 it worth the name of freedom to be at liberty to play
 
 :66 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 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 judg- 
 ment which keeps us from choosing or doing the 
 worse, be liberty, true liberty, madmen and fools are 
 the only freemen: but yet, I think, nobody would 
 choose to be mad for the sake of such liberty, but he 
 that is mad already. The constant desire of happiness, 
 and the constraint it puts upon us to act for it, no- 
 body, I think, accounts an abridgment of liberty, or at 
 least an abridgment of liberty to be complained of. 
 God Almighty himself is under the necessity of being 
 happy; and the more any intelligent being is so, the 
 nearer is its approach to infinite perfection and happi- 
 ness. That in this state of ignorance we short-sighted 
 creatures might not mistake true felicity, we are en- 
 dowed with a power to suspend any particular desire, 
 and keep it from determining the will, and engaging 
 us in action. This is standing still, where we are not 
 sufficiently assured of the way: examination is con- 
 sulting a guide. The determination of the will upon 
 inquiry, is following the direction of that guide; and 
 he that has a power to act, or not to act, according as 
 such determination directs, is a free agent; such de- 
 termination abridges not that power wherein liberty 
 consists. He that has his chains knocked off, and the 
 prison doors set open to him, is perfectly at liberty, 
 because he may either go or stay, as he best likes; 
 though his preference be determined to stay, by the 
 darkness of the night, or illness of the weather, or 
 want of other lodging. He ceases not to be free; 
 though the desire of some convenience, to be had 
 there, absolutely, determines his preference, and makes 
 him stay in his prison.
 
 OF POWER. 167 
 
 51. The necessity of pursuing true happiness, the 
 foundation of all liberty. As therefore the highest 
 perfection of intellectual nature lies in a careful and 
 constant pursuit of true and solid happiness, so the 
 care of ourselves, that we mistake not imaginary for 
 real happiness, is the necessary foundation of our 
 liberty. The stronger ties we have to an unalterable 
 pursuit of happiness in general, which is our greatest 
 good, and which, as such, our desires always follow, 
 the more are we free from any necessary determina- 
 tion of our will, to any particular action, and from a 
 necessary compliance with our desire set upon any 
 particular and then appearing preferable good, till we 
 have duly examined whether it has a tendency to or 
 be inconsistent with our real happiness : and therefore 
 till we are as much informed upon this inquiry as the 
 weight of the matter and the nature of the case de- 
 mands, we are, by the necessity of preferring and pur- 
 suing true happiness as our greatest good, obliged to 
 suspend the satisfaction of our desires in particular 
 cases. 
 
 52. The reason of it. This is the hinge on which 
 turns the liberty of intellectual beings in their constant 
 endeavours after and a steady prosecution of true 
 felicity, that they can suspend this prosecution in par- 
 ticular cases till they have looked before them, and 
 informed themselves whether that particular thing 
 which is then proposed or desired lie in the way to 
 their main end, and make a real part of that which is 
 their greatest good; for the inclination and tendency 
 of their nature to happiness is an obligation and mo- 
 tive to them, to take care not to mistake or miss it; 
 and so necessarily puts them upon caution, delibera- 
 tion, and wariness in the direction of their particular
 
 168 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 actions, which are the means to obtain it. Whatever 
 necessity determines to the pursuit of real bliss, the 
 same necessity with the same force, establishes sus- 
 pense, deliberation, and scrutiny of each successive 
 desire, whether the satisfaction of it does not interfere 
 with our true happiness, and mislead us from it. This, 
 as seems to me, is the great privilege of finite in- 
 tellectual beings; and I desire it may be well consid- 
 ered, whether the great inlet and exercise of all the 
 liberty men have, are capable of, or can be useful to 
 them, and that whereon depends the turn of their 
 actions, does not lie in this, that they can suspend their 
 desires, and stop them from determining their wills 
 to any action, till they have duly and fairly examined 
 the good and evil of it, as far forth as the weight of 
 the thing requires. This we are able to do ; and when 
 we have done it, we have done our duty, and all that 
 is in our power, and indeed all that needs. For, since 
 the will supposes knowledge to guide its choice, all 
 that we can do is to hold our wills undetermined till 
 we have examined the good and evil of what we desire. 
 What follows after that, follows in a chain of conse- 
 quences linked one to another, all depending on the 
 last determination of the judgment; which, whether it 
 shall be upon an hasty and precipitate view, or upon a 
 due and mature examination, is in our power ; experi- 
 ence showing us, that in most cases we are able to 
 suspend the present satisfaction of any desire. 
 
 53. Government of our passions, the right im- 
 provement of liberty. But if any extreme disturbance 
 (as sometimes it happens) possesses our whole mind, 
 as when the pain of the rack, an impetuous uneasiness, 
 as of love, anger, or any other violent passion, running 
 away with us, allows us not the liberty of thought, and
 
 OF POWER. 169 
 
 we are not masters enough of our own minds to con- 
 sider thoroughly and examine fairly ; God, who knows 
 our frailty, pities our weakness, and requires of us no 
 more than we are able to do, and sees what was and 
 what was not in our power, will judge as a kind and 
 merciful Father. But the forbearance of a too hasty 
 compliance with our desires, the moderation and re- 
 straint of our passions, so that our understandings 
 
 may be free to examine, and reason unbiassed give its 
 judgment, being that whereon a right direction of our 
 conduct to true happiness depends; it is in this we 
 should employ our chief care and endeavours. In this 
 we should take pains to suit the relish of our minds to 
 the true intrinsic good or ill that is in things, and not 
 permit an allowed or supposed possible great and 
 weighty good to slip out of our thoughts without leav- 
 ing any relish, any desire of itself there, till, by a due 
 consideration of its true worth, we have formed ap- 
 petites in our minds suitable to it, and made ourselves 
 uneasy in the want of it, or in the fear of losing it. 
 And how much this is in every one's power, by making 
 resolutions to himself such as he may keep, is easy for 
 every one to try. Nor let any one say, he cannot 
 govern his passions, nor hinder them from breaking 
 out, and carrying him into action ; for what he can do 
 before a prince, or a great man, he can do alone, or in 
 the presence of God, if he will. 
 
 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 hap- 
 piness, yet their wills carry them so contrarily, and 
 consequently some of them to what is evil. And to 
 this I say, that the various and contrary choices that 
 x men make in the world do not argue that they do not
 
 i;o CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 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 fol- 
 lowed 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 drink- 
 ing, 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 persons 
 would with reason prefer the griping of an hungry 
 belly to those dishes which are a feast to others. 
 Hence it was, I think, that the philosophers of old 
 did in vain inquire, whether summum bonnm 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 par- 
 ticular palate, wherein there is great variety; so the
 
 OF POWER. ^ 171 
 
 greatest happiness consists in the having those things 
 which produce the greatest pleasure and in the absence 
 of those which cause any disturbance, any pain. Now, 
 these to different men are very different things. If 
 therefore men in this life only have hope, if in this 
 life only they can enjoy, it is not strange nor unreason- 
 able that they should seek their happiness by avoiding 
 all things that disease them here, and by pursuing all 
 that delight them ; wherein it will be no wonder to 
 find variety and difference. For if there be no pros- 
 pect beyond the grave, the inference is certainly right, 
 " Let us eat and drink," let us enjoy what we delight 
 in, " for to-morrow we shall die." This, I think, may 
 serve to show us the reason, why, though all men's 
 desires tend to happiness, yet they are not moved by 
 the same object. Men may choose different things, 
 and yet all choose right, supposing them only like a 
 company of poor insects, whereof some are bees, de- 
 lighted with flowers and their sweetness ; others beetles, 
 delighted with other kinds of viands ; which having en- 
 joyed for a season, they would cease to be, and exist 
 no more for ever. 
 
 56. How men come to choose ill. [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 for- 
 bear doing, as we will. This cannot be denied. But 
 this seeming to comprehend 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
 
 172 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 a man is at liberty in respect of willing; and that is 
 the choosing of a remote good as an end to be pur- 
 sued. Here a man may suspend the act of his choice 
 from being determined for or against the thing pro- 
 posed, till he has examined whether it be really of a 
 nature in itself and consequences to make him happy 
 or not. For when he has once chosen it, and thereby 
 it has 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 neces- 
 sarily 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 meas- 
 ures of good and evil ; which, however false and fal- 
 lacious, have the same influence on all his future con- 
 duct 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 nature of 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 
 his own election. He had a power to suspend his 
 determination : it was given him, that he might ex- 
 amine and take care of his own happiness, and look 
 that he were not deceived. And he could never judge
 
 OF POWER. 173 
 
 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 course's. But yet, 
 since men are always constant and in earnest in mat- 
 ters of happiness and misery, the question still re- 
 mains, how men come often to prefer the worse to the 
 better, and to choose that which, by their own confes- 
 sion, has made them miserable? 
 
 57. To account for the various and contrary ways 
 men take, though all aim at being happy, we must con- 
 sider whence the various uneasinesses that determine 
 the will in the preference of each voluntary action, 
 have their rise. 
 
 ( i.) From bodily pain. Some of them come from 
 causes not in our power, such as are often the pains 
 of the body from want, disease, or outward injuries, 
 as the rack, &c., which, when present, and violent, 
 operate for the most part forcibly on the will, and 
 turn the courses of men's lives from virtue, piety, and 
 religion, and what before they judged to lead to hap- 
 piness ; every one not endeavouring, or, [through dis- 
 use,] 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 hap- 
 piness. A neighbouring country has been of late a 
 tragical theatre, from which we might fetch instances, if 
 there needed any, and the world did not in all countries 
 and ages furnish examples enough, to confirm that re- 
 ceived observation, Necessitas cogit ad turpia; and
 
 174 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 therefore there is great reason for us to pray, " Lead 
 us not into temptation." 
 
 (2.) From wrong desires arising from wrong 
 judgment. Other uneasinesses arise from our de- 
 sires of absent good ; which desires always bear pro- 
 portion 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 ahvays 
 right. In the first place I shall consider the wrong 
 judgments men make of future good and evil, whereby 
 their desires are misled. For as to present happiness 
 and misery, when that alone comes in 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 en- 
 joyment are what they seem; the apparent and real 
 good are, in this case, always the same. For the pain 
 or pleasure being just so great and no greater than it 
 is felt, the present good or evil is really so much as it 
 appears. And therefore were every action of ours 
 concluded within itself, and drew no consequences 
 after it, we should undoubtedly never err in our choice 
 of good; we should always infallibly prefer the best. 
 Were the pains of honest industry, and of starving 
 with hunger and cold set together before us, nobody 
 would be in doubt which to choose : were the 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 his 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
 
 OF POWER. 175 
 
 precedent causes of good and evil, which they draw 
 after them, and bring upon us when they themselves 
 are past and cease to be; our desires look beyond our 
 present enjoyments, and carry the mind out to absent 
 good, according to the necessity which we think there 
 is of it to the making or increase of our happiness. 
 It is our opinion of such a necessity that gives it its 
 attraction : without that, we are not moved by absent 
 good. For in this narrow scantling of capacity which 
 we are accustomed to and sensible of here, wherein we 
 enjoy but one pleasure at once, which, when all un- 
 easiness 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 hap- 
 piness, 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 pur- 
 suit 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 rafsed 
 to the desire of the greatest absent good. For whilst 
 such thoughts possess them, the joys of a future state 
 move them not; they have little concern or uneasiness 
 about them ; and the will, free from the determination 
 of such desires, is left to the pursuit of nearer satis- 
 factions, 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 religion are necessary to his
 
 176 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 happiness; let him look into the future state of bliss 
 or misery, and see their God the righteous Judge ready 
 to " render to every man according to his deeds ; to 
 them who by patient continuance in well-doing seek 
 for glory, and honour, and immortality, eternal life; 
 but unto every soul that doth evil, indignation and 
 wrath, tribulation and anguish;" to him, I say, who 
 hath a prospect of the different state of perfect hap- 
 piness or misery that attends all men after this life, 
 depending on their behaviour here, the measures of 
 good and evil that govern his choice are mightily 
 changed. For, since nothing of pleasure and pain 
 in this life can bear any proportion to the endless happi- 
 ness 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 accom- 
 panies or follows them here, but as they serve to 
 secure that perfect durable happiness hereafter.] 
 
 61. A more particular account of "wrong judg- 
 ments. But, to account more particularly for the 
 misery that men often bring on themselves, notwith- 
 standing that they do all in earnest pursue happiness, 
 we must consider how things come to be represented 
 to our desires under deceitful appearances; and that 
 is by the judgment pronouncing wrongly concerning 
 them. To see how far this reaches, and what are the 
 causes of wrong judgment, we must remember that 
 things are judged good or bad in a double sense. 
 
 First. That which is properly good or bad, is noth- 
 ing but barely pleasurable or pain. 
 
 Secondly. But because not only present pleasure and 
 pain, but that also which is apt by its efficacy or conse- 
 quences to bring it upon us at a distance, is a propei 
 object of our desires, and apt to move a creature that
 
 OF POWER. 177 
 
 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 worst side, lies in 
 misreporting upon the various comparisons of these. 
 The wrong judgment I am here speaking of, is not 
 what one man may think of the determination of an- 
 other, but what every man himself must confess to be 
 wrong. For, since I lay it for a certain ground, that 
 every intelligent being really seeks happiness, [which 
 consists in the enjoyment of pleasure, without any 
 considerable mixture of uneasiness] ; it is impossible 
 any one should willingly put into his own draught any 
 bitter ingredient, or leave out 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 conse- < 
 quence of invincible error, which scarce deserves the 
 name of wrong judgment; but of that wrong judg- 
 ment which every man himself must confess to be so. 
 
 63. In comparing present and future. I. There- 
 fore, as to present pleasure and pain, the mind, as 
 has been said, never mistakes that which is really good 
 or evil ; that which is the greater pleasure or the 
 greater pain is really just as it appears. But though 
 present pleasure and pain show their difference and 
 degrees so plainly as not to leave room for mistake, 
 yet when we compare present pleasure or pain with 
 future (which is usually the case in the most impor- 
 tant determinations of the will), we often make wrong 
 judgments of them, taking our measures of them in 
 different positions of distance. Objects near our view 
 are apt to be thought greater than those of a larger size
 
 178 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 that are more remote : and so it is with pleasures and 
 pains : the present is apt to carry it, and those at a 
 distance have the disadvantage in the comparison. 
 Thus most men, like spendthrift heirs are apt to 
 judge a little in hand better than a great deal to come; 
 and so, for small matters in possession, part with great 
 ones in reversion. But that this is a wrong judgment, 
 every one must allow, let his pleasure consist in what- 
 ever it will: since that which is future will certainly 
 come to be present; and then, having the same ad- 
 vantage of nearness, will show itself in its full dimen- 
 sions, and discover his wilful mistake who judged of 
 it by unequal measures. Were the pleasure of drink- 
 ing accompanied, the very moment a man takes off his 
 glass, with that sick stomach and aching head which, 
 in some men, are sure to follow not many hours after, 
 I think nobody, whatever pleasure he had in his cups, 
 would, on these conditions, ever let wine touch his 
 lips ; which yet he daily swallows, and the evil side 
 comes to be chosen only by the fallacy of a little dif- 
 ference 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. e., bring 
 it home to 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 pleas- 
 ure and pain, or the true degrees of happiness or 
 misery : the future loses its just proportion, and what 
 is present obtains the preference as the greater. I 
 mention not here the wrong judgment whereby the 
 absent are not only lessened, but reduced to perfect 
 nothing; when men enjoy what they can in present, 
 and make sure of that, concluding amiss that no evil
 
 OF POWER. 179 
 
 will hence follow. For that lies not in comparing the 
 greatness of future good and evil, which is that we 
 are here speaking of; but in another sort of wrong 
 judgment, which is concerning good or evil, as it is 
 considered to be the cause and procurement of pleas- 
 ure or pain that will follow from it. 
 
 64. Causes of this. The cause of our judging 
 amiss when we compare our present pleasure or pain 
 with future, seems to me to be the weak and narrow 
 constitution of our minds. We cannot well enjoy two 
 pleasures at once, much less any pleasure almost 
 whilst pain possesses us. The present pleasure, if it 
 be not very languid and almost none at all, fills our 
 narrow souls, and so takes* up the whole mind that it 
 scarce leaves any thought of things absent: or if 
 among our pleasures there are some which are not 
 strong enough to exclude the consideration of things 
 at a distance, yet we have so great an abhorrence of pain 
 that a little of it extinguishes all our pleasures : a little 
 bitter mingled in our cup leaves no relish of the sweet. 
 Hence it comes that, at any rate, we desire to be rid 
 of the present evil, which we are apt to think nothing 
 absent can equal; because under the present pain we 
 find not ourselves capable of any the least degree of 
 happiness. Men's daily complaints are a loud proof 
 of this : the pain that any one actually feels is still of 
 all other the worst ; and it is with anguish they cry 
 out, " Any rather than this ! nothing can be so in- 
 tolerable 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 neces- 
 sary 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.
 
 i8o CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 And because the abstinence from a present pleasure 
 that offers itself is a pain, nay, oftentimes a very great 
 one, the desire being inflamed by a near and tempting 
 object; it is no wonder that that operates after the 
 same manner pain does, and lessens in our thoughts 
 what is future; and so forces us, as it were, blind- 
 folded into its embraces. 
 
 65. [Add to this that absent good, or, which is 
 the same thing, future pleasure, especially if of a sort 
 which we are unacquainted with, seldom is able to 
 counterbalance any uneasiness, either of pain or de- 
 sire, which is present. For its greatness being no 
 more than what shall be really tasted when enjoyed, 
 men are apt enough to lessen that, to make it give 
 place to any present desire; and conclude with them- 
 selves, that when it comes to trial it may possiby 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 there- 
 fore they see nothing it for which they should forego 
 a present enjoyment. But that this is a false way of 
 judging when applied to the happiness of another life, 
 they must confess, unless they will say, God cannot 
 make those happy he designs to be so. For that being 
 intended for a state of happiness, it must certainly be 
 agreeable to every one's wish and desire: could we 
 suppose their relishes as different there as they are 
 here, yet the manna in heaven will suit every one's 
 palate.] Thus much of the wrong judgment we make 
 of present and future pleasure and pain, when they 
 are compared together, and so the absent considered 
 as future.
 
 OF POWER. 181 
 
 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. 
 
 (i.) When we judge that so much evil does not 
 really depend on them, as in truth there does. 
 
 (2.) When we judge, that though the -consequence 
 be of that moment, yet it is not of that certainty but 
 that it may otherwise fall out or else by some means be 
 avoided, as by industry, address, change, repentance, 
 &c. That these are wrong ways of judging were easy 
 to show, in every particular, if I would examine them at 
 large singly : but I shall only mention this in general, 
 viz., that it is a very wrong and irrational way of pro- 
 ceeding, to venture a greater good for a less upon 
 uncertain guesses, and before a due examination be 
 made, proportionable to the weightiness of the matter, 
 and the concernment it is to us not to mistake. This, 
 I think, every one must confess, especially if he con- 
 siders the usual cause of this wrong judgment, where- 
 of these following are some. 
 
 67. Causes of this. I. Ignorance: He that judges 
 without informing himself to the utmost that he is 
 capable, cannot aquit 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
 
 182 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 which most commonly causes this, is the prevalency of 
 some present pleasure or pain, heightened by our 
 feeble passionate nature, most strongly wrought on by 
 what is present. To check this precipitancy, our 
 understanding and reason were given us, if \ve 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 he that is at 
 liberty to ramble in perfect darkness, what is his 
 liberty better than if he 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 ac- 
 quired indispositions, do severally contribute on occa- 
 sion to these wrong judgments, I shall not here 
 farther inquire. [I shall only add one other false judg- 
 ment, which I 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
 
 OF POWER. 183 
 
 pleasure at hand, or that custom has endeared to them, 
 to rest satisfied in that; and so being happy, till some 
 new desire, by making them uneasy, disturbs that 
 happiness, and shows them that they are not so, they 
 look no father; 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 hap- 
 piness 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, hap- 
 piness, he will acknowledge he judged not right. That 
 which contributes to this mistake, is the real or sup- 
 posed 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 hap- 
 piness, that they do not easily bring themselves to it. 
 
 69. We can change the agreeableness or disagree- 
 ableness in things. The last inquiry, therefore, con- 
 cerning this matter is, Whether it be in a man's power 
 to change the pleasantness and unpleasantness that 
 accompanies any sort of action? And, as to that, it 
 is plain in many cases he can. Men may and should 
 correct their palates, and give a relish to what either 
 has, or they suppose has r none. The relish of the 
 mind is as various as that of the body, and like that,
 
 i&4 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 too, may be altered; and it is a mistake to think that 
 men cannot change the displeasingness or indifferency 
 that is in actions into pleasure and desire, if they will 
 do but what is in their power. A due consideration 
 will do it in some cases ; and practice, application, and 
 custom in most. Bread or tobacco may be neglected, 
 where they are shown to be useful to health, because 
 of an indifferency or disrelish to them; reason and 
 consideration at first recommends and begins their 
 trial, and use finds or custom makes them pleasant. 
 That this is so in virtue, too, is very certain. Actions 
 are pleasing or displeasing, either in themselves, or 
 considered as a means to a greater and more desirable 
 end. The eating of a well-seasoned dish, suited to a 
 man's palate, may move the mind by the delight itself 
 that accompanies the eating, without reference to any 
 other end: to which the consideration of the pleasure 
 there is in health and strength (to which that meat is 
 subservient) may add a new gusto, able to make us 
 swallow an ill-relished potion. In the latter of these, 
 any action is rendered more or less pleasing only by 
 the contemplation of the end, and the being more or 
 less persuaded of its tendency to it, or necessary con- 
 nection 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 dis- 
 pleased us. Habits have powerful charms, and put so 
 strong attractions of easiness and pleasure into what 
 we accustom ourselves to, that we cannot forbear to 
 do, or at least be easy in the omission of, actions which 
 habitual practice has suited, and thereby recommends 
 to us. Though this be very visible, and every one's
 
 OF POWER. 185 
 
 experience shows him he can do so; yet it is a part in 
 the conduct of men towards their happiness neglected 
 to a degree, that it will be possbly entertained as a 
 paradox, if it be said, that men can make things or 
 actions more or less pleasing, to themselves ; and 
 thereby remedy that to which one may justly impute 
 a great deal of their wandering. Fashion and the 
 common opinion having settled wrong notions, and 
 education and custom ill habits, the just values of 
 things are misplaced, and the palates of men cor- 
 rupted. 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 happi- 
 ness. This every one must confess he can do; and 
 when happiness is lost, and misery overtakes him, he 
 will confess he did amiss in neglecting it, and con- 
 demn himself for it : and I ask every one, whether he 
 has not often done so? 
 
 70. Preference of vice to virtue, a manifest wrong 
 judgment. I 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 
 false notions or shameful neglect of what is in their 
 power, may put men out of their way to happiness, and 
 distract them, as we see, into so different courses of 
 life, this yet is certain, that] morality, established 
 upon its true foundations, cannot but determine the 
 choice in any one that will but consider: and he that 
 will not be so far a rational creature, as to reflect 
 seriously upon infinite happiness and misery, must 
 needs condemn himself as not making that use of his 
 understanding he should. The rewards and punish- 
 ments of another life, which the Almighty has estab-
 
 i86 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 lished as the enforcements of his law, are of weight 
 enough to determine the choice against whatever 
 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 happiness to be but the possible 
 consequence of a good life here, and the contrary state 
 the possible reward of a bad one, must own himself 
 to judge very much amiss if he does not conclude, that 
 a virtuous life with the certain expectation of everlast- 
 ing bliss which may come, it to be preferred to a 
 vicious one, with the fear of that dreadful state of 
 misery which it is very possible may overtake the 
 guilty, or at best the terrible uncertain hope of anni- 
 hilation. This is evidently so, though the virtuous 
 life here had nothing but pain, and the vicious con- 
 tinual pleasure: which yet is, for the most part, quite 
 otherwise, and wicked men have not much the odds to 
 brag of even in their present possession; nay, all 
 things rightly considered, have, I think, even the 
 worst part here. But when infinite happiness is put 
 in 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 possi- 
 bility 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 in- 
 finite happiness to be got, if his expectation comes not 
 to pass. If the good man be in the right, he is eternally 
 happy; if he mistakes, he is not miserable, he feels 
 nothing. On the other side, if the wicked man be in the 
 right, he is not happy; if he mistakes, he is infinitely
 
 OF POWER. 187 
 
 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 
 probability of a future state, designing here to show the 
 wrong judgment that any one must allow he makes 
 upon his own principles, laid how he pleases, who 
 prefers the short pleasures of a vicious life upon any 
 consideration, whilst he knows, and cannot but be cer- 
 tain 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 some mistake in it, though he could not 
 particularly show it me, I was put upon a stricter 
 review of this chapter: wherein lighting upon a very 
 easy and scarce observable slip I had made in putting 
 one seemingly indifferent wdrd for another, that dis- 
 covery opened to me this present view, which here, in 
 this second edition, I submit to the learned world, and 
 which, in short, is this : Liberty is a power to act or 
 not to act, according as the mind directs. A power to 
 direct the operative faculties to motion or rest in par- 
 ticular instances, is that which we call the " will." 
 That which in the train of our voluntary actions de- 
 termines the will to any change of operation, is some 
 present uneasiness, which is, or at least is always ac- 
 companied with, that of desire. Desire is always 
 moved by evil, to fly it ; because a total freedom from 
 pain always makes a necessary part of our happiness: 
 but every good, nay every greater good, does not con- 
 stantly move desire, because it may not make, or may 
 not be taken to make, any necessary part of our hap-
 
 i88 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 piness. For all that we desire is only to be happy. 
 But though this general desire of happiness operates 
 constantly and invariably, yet the satisfaction of any 
 particular desire can be suspended from determining 
 the will to any subservient action, till we have 
 maturely examined whether the particular apparent 
 good, which we then desire, makes a part of our real 
 happiness, or be consistent or inconsistent with it. 
 The result of our judgment upon that examination, is 
 what ultimately determines the man, who could not 
 be free if his will were determined by any thing but 
 his own desire, guided by his own judgment.] [I know 
 that liberty by some is placed in an indifferency of the 
 man, antecedent to the determination of his will. I 
 wish they who lay so much stress on such an " ante- 
 cedent indifferency," as they call it, had told us plainly 
 whether this supposed indifferency be antecedent to 
 the thought and judgment of the understanding, as 
 well as to the decree of the will. For it is pretty hard 
 to state it between them ; *. e., immediately after the 
 judgment of the understanding, and before the deter- 
 mination of the will ; because the determination of the 
 will immediately follows the judgment of the under- 
 standing: and to place liberty in an indifferency ante- 
 cedent to the thought and judgment of the under- 
 standing, 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 
 indifferency; but it is an indifferency that remains 
 after the judgment of the understanding; yea, even
 
 OF POWER. 189 
 
 after the determination of the will: and that is an 
 indifferency not of the man; (for after he has once 
 judged which is best, viz., to do, or forbear, he is no 
 longer indifferent;) but an indifferency of the opera- 
 tive powers of the man, which remaining equally able 
 to operate or to forbear operating after as before the 
 decree of the will, are in a state which, if one pleases, 
 may be called " indifferency ; " and as far as this in- 
 differency 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 : I am, then, in that respect per- 
 fectly free. My will determines that operative power 
 to rest : I am yet free, because the indifferency 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 was 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 with a sudden palsy, 
 the indifferency of that operative power is gone, and 
 with it my liberty; I have no longer freedom in that 
 respect, but am under a necessity of letting my hand 
 rest. On the other side, if my hand be put into motion 
 by a convulsion, 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 are of so great importance, that I hope I 
 shall be pardoned this digression, which my attempt
 
 ipo CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 to explain it has led me into. The ideas of will, voli- 
 tion, liberty, and necessity, in this chapter of power, 
 came naturally in my way. In a former edition of 
 this treatise, I gave an account of my thoughts con- 
 cerning them, according to the light I then had : and 
 now, as a lover of truth, and not a worshipper of my 
 own doctrines, I own some change of my opinion, 
 which I think I have discovered ground for. In what 
 I first writ, I with an unbiassed indifferency followed 
 truth whither I thought she led me. But neither be- 
 ing so vain as to fancy infallibility, nor so disingenu- 
 ous as to dissemble my mistakes for fear of blemish- 
 ing 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 im- 
 possible but that some may think my former notions 
 right, and some (as I have already found) these latter, 
 and some neither. I shall not at all wonder at this 
 variety in men's opinions; impartial deductions of 
 reason in controverted points being so rare, and ex- 
 act ones in abstract notions not so very easy, espe- 
 cially 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 have said above, that we 
 have ideas but 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
 
 OF POWER. 191 
 
 are instances of both kinds, which, upon due considera- 
 tion, 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 sub- 
 stance that hath motion or thought receives the impres- 
 sion, whereby 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. What- 
 soever modification a substance has whereby it pro- 
 duces 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 con- 
 sidered, 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 like- 
 wise in thinking, a power to receive ideas or thoughts 
 from the operation of any external substance, is called 
 " a power of thinking : " but this is but a passive 
 power or capacity. But to be able to bring into view 
 ideas out of sight at one's own choice, and to com- 
 pare which of them one thinks fit, this is an active 
 power. This reflection may be of some use to pre- 
 serve 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
 
 192 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 signify action ; v. g., this proposition, " I see the moon 
 or a star," or " I feel the heat of the sun," though ex- 
 pressed by a verb active, does not signify any action 
 in me whereby I operate on those substances ; but only 
 the reception of the ideas of light, roundness, and heat, 
 wherein I am not active, but barely passive, and can- 
 not, in that position of my eyes or body, avoid receiv- 
 ing 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, 
 I believe they all might be reduced to these very few 
 primary and original ones, viz., extension, solidity, 
 mobility, or the power of being moved; which by our 
 senses we receive from body: perceptivity, or the 
 power of perception, or thinking; motivity, or the 
 power of moving ; which by reflection we receive from 
 our minds. I crave leave to make use of these two 
 new words, to avoid the danger of being mistaken in 
 the use of those which are equivocal. To which if we 
 add existence, duration, number, which belong both 
 to the one and the other, we have perhaps all the 
 original ideas on which the rest depend. For by 
 these, I imagine, might be explained the nature of 
 colours, sounds, tastes, smells, and all other ideas we 
 have, if we had but faculties acute enough to perceive 
 the severally-modified extensions and motions of these 
 minute bodies which produce those several sensations in
 
 OF POWER. 193 
 
 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 con- 
 stitution 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 disquisition, it sufficing to my pur- 
 pose 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 particular figures or motion of the 
 particles which rebound from them, to cause in us that 
 particular sensation; though when we go beyond the 
 bare ideas in our minds, and would inquire into their 
 causes, we cannot conceive 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. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 
 
 I. Ideas of substances, how made. The mind 
 being, as I have declared, furnished with a great num-
 
 194 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 her of the simple ideas conveyed in by the senses, as 
 they are found in exterior things, or by reflection on 
 its own operations, takes notice, also, that a certain 
 number of these simple ideas go constantly together; 
 which being presumed to belong to one thing, and 
 words being suited to common agprehensions, and 
 made use of for quick despatch, are called, so united 
 in one subject, by one name; which, by inadvertency, 
 we are apt afterward to talk of and consider as one 
 simple idea, which indeed is a complication of many 
 ideas together: because, as I have said, not imagining 
 how these simple ideas can subsist by themselves, we 
 accustom ourselves to suppose some substratum 
 wherein they do subsist, and from which they do 
 result ; which therefore we call " substance." 
 
 2. Our idea of substance in general. So that if 
 any one will examine himself concerning his notion of 
 pure substance in general, he will find he has no other 
 idea of it at all, but only a supposition of he knows not 
 what support of such qualities which are capable of 
 producing simple ideas in us ; which qualities are 
 commonly called " accidents." If any one should be 
 asked, " What is the subject wherein colour or weight 
 inheres ? " he would have nothing to say but, " The 
 solid extended parts." And if he were demanded, 
 " What is it that solidity and extension 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
 
 OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 195 
 
 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, accord- 
 ing to the true import of the word, is, in plain Eng- 
 lish, " standing under," or " upholding." 
 
 3. Of the sorts of substances. An obscure and 
 relative idea of substance in general being thus made, 
 we come to have the ideas of particular sorts of sub- 
 stances, by collecting such combinations of simple 
 ideas as are by experience and observation of men's 
 senses taken notice of to exist together, and are there- 
 fore supposed to flow from the particular internal con- 
 stitution or unknown essence of that substance. Thus 
 we come to have the ideas o'f 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 together, I appeal to every one's own 
 experience. It is the ordinary qualities observable in 
 iron or a diamond, put together, that make the true 
 complex idea of those substances, which with a smith 
 or a jeweller commonly knows better than a philos- 
 opher ; who, whatever substantial forms he may talk of,
 
 196 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 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 these 
 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 substance, we say it is a thing having such or 
 such qualities ; as, body is a thing that is extended, 
 figured, and capable of motion ; spirit ; a thing capable 
 of thinking; and so hardness, friability, and power to 
 draw iron, we say, are qualities to be found in a load- 
 stone. These and the like fashions of speaking, inti- 
 mate that the substance is supposed always something, 
 besides the extension, figure, solidity, motion, think- 
 ing, 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 cor- 
 poreal substances, as horse, stone, &c., though the 
 idea we have of either of them be but the complica- 
 tion or collection of those several simple ideas of sen- 
 sible qualities which we used to find united in the 
 thing called " horse " or " stone ; " yet because we 
 cannot conceive how they should subsist alone, nor 
 one in another, we suppose them existing in, and sup- 
 ported by, some common subject ; which support we 
 denote by the name " substance," though it be cer- 
 tain we have no clear or distinct idea of that thing we 
 suppose 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, conclud- 
 ing not to subsist of themselves, nor apprehending
 
 OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 197 
 
 how they can belong to body, or be produced by it, 
 we are apt to think these the actions of some other 
 substance, which we call " spirit ; " whereby yet it is 
 evident, that having no other idea or notion of matter, 
 but something wherein those many sensible qualities 
 which affect our senses do subsist; by supposing a 
 substance wherein thinking, knowing, doubting, and 
 a power of moving, &c., do subsist; we have as clear 
 a notion of the substance of spirit as we have of body : 
 the one being supposed to be (without knowing what 
 it is) the substratum to those simple ideas we have 
 from without; and the other supposed (with a like 
 ignorance of what it is) to be the substratum to those 
 operations which we experiment in ourselves within. 
 It is plain, then, that the idea of corporeal substance 
 in matter is as remote from our conceptions and ap- 
 prehensions 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 sub- 
 stance of a spirit. 
 
 6. Of the sorts of substances. Whatever there- 
 fore be the secret and abstract nature of substance in 
 general, all the ideas we have of particular, distinct 
 sorts of substances, are nothing but several combina- 
 tions of simple ideas co-existing in such, though un- 
 known, cause of their union, as makes the whole sub- 
 sist 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
 
 ip8 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 have of their several species in our minds; and such 
 only do we, by their specific names, signify to others; 
 v. g., man, horse, sun, water, iron ; upon hearing 
 which words every one, who understands the lan- 
 guage, frames in his mind a combination of those sev- 
 eral 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, adher- 
 ent to, that unknown common subject, which inheres 
 not in anything 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 sub- 
 stance, 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 mo- 
 tion, 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 part of our complex ideas of 
 substances. For he has the perfectest idea of any of 
 of the particular sorts of substances who has gathered 
 and put together most of those simple ideas which do 
 exist in it, among which are to be reckoned its active 
 powers and passive capacities ; which, though not 
 simple ideas, yet in this respect, for brevity's sake, 
 may conveniently enough be reckoned amongst them. 
 Thus, the power of drawing iron is one of the ideas
 
 OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 199 
 
 of the complex one of that substance we call a " load- 
 stone," and a power to be so drawn is a part of the 
 complex one we call " iron ; " which powers pass for 
 inherent qualities in those subjects: because every 
 substance being as apt, by the powers we observe in it, 
 to change some sensible qualities in other subjects, as 
 it is to produce in us those simple ideas which we re- 
 ceive immediately from it, does, by those new sensible 
 qualities introduced into other subjects, discover to us 
 those powers which do thereby mediately affect our 
 senses as regularly as its sensible qualities do it im- 
 mediately ; v. g., we immediately by our senses per- 
 ceive in fire its heat and colour; which are, if rightly 
 considered, nothing but powers in it to produce those 
 ideas in us : we also by our senses perceive the colour 
 and brittleness of charcoal, whereby we come by the 
 knowledge of another power in fire, which it has to 
 change the colour and consistency of wood. By the 
 former, fire immediately, by the latter it mediately, 
 discovers to us these several powers, which therefore 
 we look upon to be a part of the qualities of fire, and 
 so make them a part of the complex idea of it. For, 
 all those powers that we take cognizance of, terminat- 
 ing only in the alteration of some sensible qualities in 
 those subjects on which they operate, and so making 
 them exhibit to us new sensible ideas; therefore it is 
 that I have reckoned these powers amongst the simple 
 ideas which make the complex ones of the sorts of 
 substances; though these powers, considered in them- 
 selves, are truly complex ideas. And in this looser 
 sense I crave leave to be understood, when I name any 
 of these potentialities amongst the simple ideas which 
 we recollect in our minds when we think of particular 
 substances. For the powers that are severally in them
 
 200 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 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 sub- 
 stances one from another, and commonly make a con- 
 siderable part of the complex idea of the several sorts 
 of them. For, our senses failing us in the discovery 
 of the bulk texture, and figure of the minute parts of 
 bodies, on which their real constitutions and differ- 
 ences depend, we are fain to make use of their sec- 
 ondary qualities, as the characteristical notes and 
 marks whereby to frame ideas of them in our minds, 
 and distinguish them one from another, all which sec- 
 ondary qualities, as has been shown, are nothing but 
 bare powers. For the colour and taste of opium are, 
 as well as its soporific or anodyne virtues, mere powers 
 depending on its primary qualities, whereby it is fitted 
 to produce different operations on different parts of 
 our bodies. 
 
 9. Three sorts of ideas make our complex ones of 
 substances. The ideas that make our complex ones 
 of corporeal substances are of these three sorts. First. 
 The ideas of the primary qualities of things which are 
 discovered by our senses, and are in them even when 
 we perceive them not : such are the bulk, figure, num- 
 ber, 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, are nothing but the powers those 
 substances have to produce several ideas in us by our 
 senses; which ideas are not in the things themselves 
 otherwise than as any thing is in its cause. Thirdly.
 
 OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 201 
 
 The aptness we consider in any substance to give or 
 receive such alterations of primary qualities as that 
 the substance so altered should produce in us different 
 ideas from what it did before ; these are called " active 
 and passive powers : " all which powers, as far as we 
 have any notice or notion of them, terminate only in 
 sensible simple ideas. For, whatever alteration a 
 loadstone has the power to make in the minute parti- 
 cles 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 sus- 
 pect, because they never appear in sensible effects. 
 
 10. Powers make a great part of our complex ideas 
 of substances, Powers therefore justly make a great 
 part of our complex ideas of substances. He that will 
 examine his complex idea of gold, will find several of 
 its ideas that make it up to be only powers: as the 
 power of being melted, but of not spending itself in the 
 fire, of being dissolved in aqua regia, are ideas as neces- 
 sary to make up our complex idea of gold, as its colour, 
 and weight : which, if duly considered, are also noth- 
 ing but different powers. For, to speak truly, yel- 
 lowness 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 idea 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 insensible parts, so on a man 
 as to make him have the idea of heat ; and so on wax 
 as to make it capable to produce in a man the idea 
 of white.
 
 202 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 11. The now secondary qualities of bodies would 
 disappear, if we could discover the primary ones of 
 their minute parts. Had we senses acute enough to 
 discern the minute particles of bodies, and the real 
 constitution on which their sensible qualities depend, 
 I doubt not but they would produce quite different 
 ideas in us, and that which is now the yellow colour 
 of gold would then disappear, and instead of it we 
 should see an admirable texture of parts of a certain 
 size and figure. This microscopes plainly discover to us ; 
 for, what to our naked eyes produces a certain colour 
 is, by thus augmenting the acuteness of our senses, 
 discovered to be quite a different thing; and the thus 
 altering, as it were, the proportion of the bulk of 
 the minute parts of a coloured object to our usual 
 sight, produces different ideas from what it did before. 
 Thus sand, or pounded glass, which is opaque and 
 white to the naked eye, is pellucid in a microscope; 
 and a hair seen this way loses its former colour, and 
 is in a great measure pellucid, with a mixture of some 
 bright sparkling colours, such as appear from the re- 
 fraction of diamonds and other pellucid bodies. Blood 
 to the naked eye appears all red ; but by a good mi- 
 croscope, wherein its lesser parts appear, shows only 
 some few globules of red, swimming in a pellucid 
 liquor; and how these red globules would appear, if 
 glasses could be found that yet could magnify them one 
 thousand or ten thousand times more, is uncertain. 
 
 12. Our faculties of discovery suited to our state. 
 The infinite wise Contriver of us and all things 
 about us hath fitted our senses, faculties, and organs 
 to the conveniences of life, and the business we have 
 to do here. We are able by our senses to know and 
 distinguish things, and to examine them so far as to
 
 OF OUR CO AM FLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 203 
 
 apply them to our uses, and several ways to accommo- 
 date the exigencies of this life. We have insight 
 enough into their admirable contrivances and wonder- 
 ful effects to admire and magnify the wisdom, power, 
 and goodness of their Author. Such a knowledge as 
 this, which is suited to our present condition, we want 
 not faculties to attain. But it appears not that God 
 intended we should have a perfect, clear, and adequate 
 knowledge of them, that perhaps is not in the compre- 
 hension of any finite being. We are furnished with 
 faculties (dull and weak as they are) to discover 
 enough in the creatures to lead us to the knowledge 
 of the Creator, and the knowledge of our duty; and 
 we are fitted well enough with abilities to provide for 
 the conveniences of living; these are our business in 
 this world. But were our senses altered, and made 
 much quicker and acuter, the appearance and outward 
 scheme of things would have quite another face to 
 us ; and, I am apt to think, would be inconsistent with 
 our being, or at least well-being, in this part of the 
 universe which we inhabit. He that considers how 
 little our constitution is able to bear a remove into 
 parts of this air not much higher than that we com- 
 monly breathe in, will have reason to be satisfied that, 
 in this globe of earth allotted for our mansion, the all- 
 wise Architect has suited our organs and the bodies 
 that are to affect them one to another. If our sense 
 of hearing were but a thousand times quicker than it 
 is, how would a perpetual noise distract us! and we 
 should, in the quietest retirement, be less able to sleep 
 or meditate than in the middle of a sea-fight. Nay, 
 if that most instructive of our senses, seeing, were in 
 any man a thousand or a hundred thousand times more 
 acute than it is by the best microscope, things sev-
 
 204 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 eral million of times less than the smallest object 
 of his sight now would then be visible to his naked 
 eyes, and so he would come nearer the discovery of 
 the texture and motion of the minute parts of cor- 
 poreal things, and in many of them probably get ideas 
 of their internal constitutions; but then he would be 
 in a quite different world from other people; nothing 
 would appear the same to him and others ; the visible 
 ideas of every thing would be different. So that I 
 doubt whether he and the rest of men could discourse 
 concerning the objects of sight, or have any com- 
 munication about colours, their appearances being so 
 wholly different. And perhaps such a quickness and 
 tenderness of sight could not endure bright sunshine, 
 or so much as open daylight; nor take in but a very 
 small part of any object at once, and that too only at 
 a very near distance. And if by the help of such 
 microscopical eyes (if I may so call them), a man 
 could penetrate farther than ordinary into the secret 
 composition and radical texture of bodies, he would 
 not make any great advantage by the change, if such 
 an acute sight would not serve to conduct him to the 
 market and exchange; if he could not see things he 
 was to avoid at a convenient distance, nor distinguish 
 things he had to do with by those sensible qualities 
 others do. He that was sharp-sighted enough to see 
 the configuration of the minute particles of the spring 
 of a clock, and observe upon what peculiar structure 
 and impulse its elastic motion depends, would no doubt 
 discover something very admirable. But if eyes so 
 framed could not view at once the hand, and the 
 characters of the hour-plate, and thereby at a dis- 
 tance see what o'clock it was, their owner could not 
 be much benefited by that acuteness; which, whilst
 
 OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 205 
 
 it discovered the secret contrivance of the parts of the 
 machine, made him lose its use. 
 
 13. Conjecture about spirits. And here give me 
 leave to propose an extravagant conjecture of mine, 
 viz., that, since we have some reason (if there be any 
 credit to be given to the report of things that our 
 philosophy cannot account for) to imagine that spirits 
 can assume to themselves bodies of different bulk, 
 figure, and conformation of parts; whether one great 
 advantage some of them have over us may not lie in 
 this, that they can so frame and shape to themselves 
 organs of sensation or perception as to suit them to 
 their present design, and the circumstances of the 
 object they would consider. For, how much would 
 that man exceed all others in knowledge, who had but 
 the faculty so to alter the structure of his eyes (that 
 one sense), as to make it capable of all the several 
 degrees of vision, which the assistance of glasses 
 (casually at first lighted on) has taught us to conceive ! 
 What wonders would he discover who could so fit 
 his eyes to all sorts of objects, as to see when he 
 pleased the figure and motion of the minute particles 
 in the blood and other juices of animals, as distinctly 
 as he does at other times the shape and motion of the 
 animals themselves! But to us, in our present state, 
 unalterable organs, so contrived as to discover the fig- 
 ure 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
 
 206 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 serve us well enough for those ends above mentioned, 
 which are our great concernment. I beg my reader's 
 pardon for laying before him so wild a fancy con- 
 cerning 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 propor- 
 tion 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 with- 
 out 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 re- 
 ceived from our own sensation and reflection. The 
 supposition, at least, that angels do sometimes assume 
 bodies, needs not startle us, since some of the most 
 ancient and most learned Fathers of the church seemed 
 to believe that they had bodies; and this is certain, 
 that their state and way of existence is unknown to us. 
 14. Complex ideas of substances. But to return 
 to the matter in hand, the ideas we have of substances, 
 and the ways we come by them; I say, Our specific 
 ideas of substances are nothing else but a collection 
 of a certain number of simple ideas, considered as 
 united in one thing. These ideas of substances, 
 though they are commonly " simple apprehensions," 
 and the names of them " simple terms ; " yet, in 
 effect, are complex and compounded. Thus the 
 idea which an Englishman signifies by the name 
 " swan," is white colour, long neck, red beak, black 
 legs, and whole feet, and all these of a certain size, 
 with a power of swimming in the water, and making 
 a certain kind of noise ; and perhaps to a man who
 
 OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 207 
 
 has long observed this kind of birds, some other 
 properties, which all terminate in sensible simple ideas, 
 -all united in one common subject. 
 
 15. Idea of spiritual substances as clear as of bod- 
 ily substances. Besides the complex ideas we have of 
 material sensible substances, of which I have last 
 spoken, by the simple ideas we have taken from those 
 operations of our own minds, which we experiment 
 daily in ourselves, as thinking, understanding, willing, 
 knowing, and power of beginning motion, &c., co- 
 existing in some substance, we are able to frame the 
 complex idea of an immaterial spirit. And thus, by 
 putting together the ideas of thinking, perceiving, lib- 
 erty, and power of moving themselves and other 
 things, we have as clear a perception and notion of . 
 immaterial substances as we have of material. For 
 putting together the ideas of thinking and willing, 
 or. the power of moving or quieting corporeal motion, 
 joined to substance, of which we have no distinct idea, 
 we have the idea of an immaterial spirit ; and by put- 
 ting together the ideas of coherent solid parts, and a 
 power of being moved, joined with substance, of 
 which, likewise we have no positive idea, we have 
 the idea of matter. The one is as clear and distinct an 
 idea as the other: the idea of thinking and moving 
 a body being as clear and distinct ideas as the ideas of 
 extension, solidity, and being moved. For our idea 
 of substance is equally obscure, or none at all, in both ; 
 it is but a supposed I-know-not-what, to support those 
 ideas we call " accidents." [It is for want of reflection 
 that we are apt to think that our senses show us 
 nothing but material things. Every act of sensation, 
 when duly considered, gives us an equal view of both 
 parts of nature, the corporeal and spiritual. For,
 
 208 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 whilst I know, by seeing or hearing, &c., that there 
 is some corporeal being without me, the object of that 
 sensation, I do more certainly know that there is 
 some spiritual being within me that sees and hears. 
 This I must be convinced cannot be the action of bare 
 insensible matter, nor ever could be without an im- 
 material thinking being.] 
 
 16. No idea of abstract substance. By the com- 
 plex idea of extended, figured, coloured, and all other 
 sensible qualities, which is all that we know of it, 
 we are as far from the idea of the substance of body 
 as if we knew nothing at all ; nor after all the acquaint- 
 ance and familiarity which we imagine we have with 
 matter, and the many qualities men assure themselves 
 they perceive and know in bodies, will it, perhaps, 
 upon examination be found, that they have any more 
 or clearer primary ideas belonging to body than they 
 have belonging to immaterial spirit. 
 
 17. The cohesion of solid parts and impulse, the 
 primary ideas of body. The primary ideas we have 
 peculiar to body, as contra-distinguished to spirit, are 
 the cohesion of solid, and consequently separable parts, 
 and a power of communicating motion by impulse. 
 These, I think, are the original ideas proper and pecul- 
 iar to body; for figure is but the consequence of 
 finite extension. 
 
 18. Thinking and motivity, the primary ideas of 
 spirit. The ideas we have belonging and peculiar 
 to spirit are thinking, and will, or a power of putting 
 body into motion by thought, and, which is conse- 
 quent to it, liberty. For as body cannot but com- 
 municate 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
 
 OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 209 
 
 existence, duration, and mobility are common to them 
 both. 
 
 19. Spirits capable of motion. There is no reason 
 why it should be thought strange that I make mobility 
 belong to spirit; for, having no other idea of motion 
 but change of distance with other beings that are con- 
 sidered as at rest; and finding that spirits as well as 
 bodies cannot operate but where they are, and that 
 spirits do operate at several times in several places, I 
 cannot but attribute change of place to all finite spirits ; 
 for of the infinite Spirit I speak not here. For, my 
 soul, being a real being, as well as my body, is cer- 
 tainly as capable of changing distance with any other 
 body or being as body itself, and so is capable of mo- 
 tion. And if a mathematician can consider a certain 
 distance or a change of that distance between two 
 points, one may certainly conceive a distance and a 
 change of distance between two spirits; and so con- 
 ceive their motion, their approach or removal, one 
 from another. 
 
 20. Every one finds in himself, that his soul can 
 think, will, and operate on his body, in the place 
 where that is; but cannot operate on a body, or in a 
 place, an hundred miles distant from it. Nobody can 
 imagine, that his soul can think or move a body at 
 Oxford, whilst he is at London ; and cannot but know 
 that, being united to his body, it constantly changes 
 place all the whole journey between Oxford and 
 London, as the coach or horse does that carries him; 
 and I think may be said to be truly all that while in 
 motion : or, if that will not be allowed to afford us 
 a clear idea enough of its motion, its being separated 
 from the body in death, I think, will ; for, to consider
 
 2io CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 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 
 /0c0,but ubi; I suppose that way of talking will not now 
 be of much weight to many in an age that is not much 
 disposed to admire, or suffer themselves to be deceived 
 by, such unintelligible ways of speaking. But if any 
 one thinks there is any sense in that distinction, and 
 that it is applicable to our present purpose, I 'desire 
 him to put it into intelligible English, and then from 
 thence draw a reason to show that immaterial spirits 
 are not capable of motion. Indeed, motion cannot be 
 attributed to God, not because he is an immaterial, 
 but because he is an infinite, Spirit. 
 
 22. Idea of soul and body compared. Let us com- 
 pare, then, our complex idea of an immaterial spirit 
 with our complex idea of body, and see whether there 
 be any more obscurity in one than in the other, and in 
 which most. Our idea of body, as I think, is an ex- 
 fended solid substance, capable of communicating mo- 
 tion by impulse : and our idea of soul, as an immaterial 
 spirit, is of a substance that thinks, and has a power of 
 exciting motion in body, by willing or thought. These, 
 I think, are our complex ideas of soul and body, as 
 contra-distinguished; and now let us examine which 
 has most obscurity in it, and difficulty to be appre- 
 hended. I know that people, whose thoughts are im- 
 mersed in matter, and have so subjected their minds 
 to their senses that they seldom reflect on any thing 
 beyond them, are apt to say, they cannot comprehend 
 a thinking thing, which perhaps is true: but I affirm 
 when they consider it well, they can no more com- 
 prehend an extended thing.
 
 OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 211 
 
 23. Cohesion of solid parts in body, as hard to be 
 conceived as thinking in a soul. If any one says, he 
 knows not what it is thinks in him; he means, he 
 knows not what the substance is of that thinking 
 thing : no more, say I, knows he what the substance is 
 of that solid thing. Farther, if he says, he knows not 
 how he thinks; I answer, Neither knows he how he 
 is extended ; how the solid parts of body are united or 
 cohere together to make extension. For though the 
 pressure of the particles of air may account for the 
 cohesion of several parts of matter that are grosser than 
 the particles of air, and have pores less than the 
 corpuscles of air; yet the weight or pressure of the 
 air will not explain, nor can be a cause of, the co- 
 herence of the particles of air themselves. And if the 
 pressure of the ether, or any subtiler matter than the 
 air, may unite and hold fast together the parts of a 
 particle of air, as well as other bodies; yet it cannot 
 make bonds for itself, and hold together the parts that 
 make up every the least corpuscle of that materia sub- 
 tilis. So that that hypothesis, how ingeniously soever 
 explained, by showing that the parts of sensible bod- 
 ies are held together by the pressure of other external 
 insensible bodies, reaches not the parts of the ether 
 itself; and by how much the more evident it proves 
 that the parts of other bodies are held together by the 
 external pressure of the ether, and can have no other 
 conceivable cause of their cohesion and union, by so 
 much the more it leaves us in the dark concerning the 
 cohesion of the parts of the corpuscles of the ether it- 
 self ; which we can neither conceive without parts, they 
 being bodies and divisible; nor yet how their parts 
 cohere, they wanting that cause of cohesion which is 
 given of the cohesion of the parts of all other bodies.
 
 212 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 24. But, in truth, the pressure of any ambient fluid, 
 how great soever, can be no intelligible cause of the 
 cohesion of the solid parts of matter. For though 
 such a pressure may hinder the avulsion of two pol- 
 ished superficies one from another, in a line perpen- 
 dicular to them, as in the experiment of two polished 
 marbles; yet it can never, in the least, hinder the 
 separation by a motion, in a line parallel to those sur- 
 faces. Because the ambient fluid, having a full liberty 
 to succeed in each point of space deserted by a lateral 
 motion, resists such a motion of bodies so joined, no 
 more than it would resist the motion of that body were 
 it on all sides environed by that fluid, and touched no 
 other body : and therefore, if there were no other cause 
 of cohesion, all parts of bodies must be easily separable 
 by such a lateral sliding motion. For if the pressure 
 of the ether be the adequate cause of cohesion, wher- 
 ever that cause operates not, there can be no cohesion. 
 And since it cannot operate against a lateral sep- 
 aration (as has been shown), therefore in every 
 imaginary plane, intersecting any mass of matter, 
 there could be no more cohesion than of two polished 
 surfaces, which will always, notwithstanding any 
 imaginable pressure of a fluid, easily slide one from 
 another. So that perhaps, how clear an idea soever 
 we think we have of the extension of body, which 
 is nothing but the cohesion of solid parts, he that shall 
 well consider it in his mind, may have reason to con- 
 clude, that it is as easy for him to have a clear idea 
 how the soul thinks, as how body is extended. For 
 since body is no farther nor otherwise extended than 
 by the union and cohesion of its solid parts, we shall 
 very ill comprehend the extension of body without 
 understanding wherein consists the union and cohesion
 
 OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 213 
 
 of its parts; which seems to me as incomprehensible 
 as the manner of thinking, and how it is performed. 
 
 25. I allow it is usual for most people to wonder 
 how any one should find a difficulty in what they think 
 they every day observe. " Do we not see," will they 
 be ready to say, " that parts of bodies stick firmly to- 
 gether? Is there any thing more common? And 
 what doubt can there be made of it ? " And the like 
 I say concerning thinking, and voluntary motion : Do 
 we not every moment experiment it in ourselves ; and 
 therefore can it be doubted? The matter of fact is 
 clear, I confess; but when we would a little nearer 
 look into it, and consider how it is done, there, I think, 
 we are at a loss, both in the one and the other; and 
 can as little understand how the parts of body cohere, 
 as how we ourselves perceive or move. I would have 
 any one intelligibly explain to me, how the parts of 
 gold or brass (that but now in fusion were as loose 
 from one another as the particles of water, or the sands 
 of an hour-glass) come in a few moments to be so 
 united, and adhere so strongly one to another, that the 
 utmost force of men's arms cannot separate them: a 
 considering man will, I suppose, be here at a loss to 
 satisfy his own or another man's understanding. 
 
 26. The little bodies that compose that fluid we call 
 " water " are so extremely small, that I have never 
 heard of any one who, by a microscope (and yet I have 
 heard of some that have magnified to 10,000, nay to 
 much above 100,000 times), pretended to perceive 
 their distinct bulk, figure, or motion. And the par- 
 ticles of water are also so perfectly loose one from 
 another, that the least force sensibly separates them; 
 nay, if we consider their perpetual motion, we must al- 
 low them to have no cohesion one with another; and
 
 214 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 yet let but a sharp cold come, and they unite, they 
 consolidate, these little atoms cohere, and are not, 
 without great force, separable. He that could find the 
 bonds that tie these heaps of loose little bodies together 
 so firmly, he that could make known the cement that 
 makes them stick so fast one to another, would dis- 
 cover a great and yet unknown secret : and yet, when 
 that was done, would he be far enough from making 
 the extension of body (which is the cohesion of its 
 solid parts) intelligible, till he could show wherein 
 consisted the union or consolidation of the parts of 
 those bonds, or of that cement, or of the least particle 
 of matter that exists. Whereby it appears, that this 
 primary and supposed obvious quality of body will be 
 found, when examined, to be as incomprehensible, as 
 any thing belonging to our minds, and a solid extended 
 substance, as hard to be conceived as a thinking imma- 
 terial one, whatever difficulties some would raise 
 against it. 
 
 27. For, to extend our thoughts a little farther, 
 that pressure, which is brought to explain the cohesion 
 of bodies, is as unintelligible as the cohesion itself. 
 For, if matter be considered, as no doubt it is, finite, 
 let any one send his contemplation to the extremities 
 of the universe, and there see what conceivable hoops, 
 what bond, he can imagine to hold this mass of mat- 
 ter in so close a pressure together, from whence steel 
 has its firmness, and the parts of a diamond their hard- 
 ness and indissolubility. If matter be finite, it must 
 have its extremes; and there must be something to 
 hinder it from scattering asunder. If, to avoid this 
 difficult}', any one will throw himself into the suppo- 
 sition and abyss of infinite matter, let him consider 
 what light he thereby brings to the cohesion of body ;
 
 OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 215 
 
 and whether he be ever the nearer making it intelli- 
 gible, by resolving it into a supposition the most ab- 
 surd and most incomprehensible of all other: so far is 
 our extension of body (which is nothing but the co- 
 hesion of solid parts) from being clearer, or more dis- 
 tinct, when we would inquire into the nature, cause, or 
 manner of it, than the idea of thinking. 
 
 28. Communication of motion by impulse, or by 
 thought, equally intelligible. Another idea we have of 
 body, is the power of communication of motion by 
 impulse ; and of our souls, the power of exciting mo- 
 tion by thought. These ideas, the one of body, the 
 other of our minds, every day's experience clearly fur- 
 nishes us with : but if here again we inquire how this is 
 done, we are equally in the dark. For in the commun- 
 ication of motion by impulse, wherein as much motion 
 is lost to one body as is got to the other, which is the 
 ordinariest case, we can have no other conception but 
 of the passing of motion out of one body into another ; 
 which, I think, is as obscure and inconceivable, as how 
 our minds move or stop our bodies by thought ; which 
 we every moment find they do. The increase of mo- 
 tion by impulse, which is observed or believed some- 
 times to happen, is yet harder to be understood. We 
 have by daily experience clear evidence of motion pro- 
 duced both by impulse and by thought; but the man- 
 ner how, hardly comes within our comprehension; we 
 are equally at a loss in both. So that, however we 
 consider motion, and its communication either from 
 body or spirit, the idea which belongs to spirit is at 
 least as clear as that which belongs to body. And 
 if we consider the active power of moving, or, as I may 
 call it, " motivity," it is much clearer in spirit than 
 body, since two bodies, placed by one another at rest,
 
 216 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 will never afford us the idea of a power in the one 
 to move the other, but by a borrowed motion : whereas 
 the mind every day affords ideas of an active power of 
 moving of bodies; and therefore it is worth our con- 
 sideration, whether active power be not the proper at- 
 tribute 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 ac- 
 tive 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. Con- 
 stant experience makes us sensible of both of 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.
 
 OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 217 
 
 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 ex- 
 plain them any farther, one is as easy as the other ; 
 and there is no more difficulty to conceive how a sub- 
 stance we know not should by thought set body into 
 motion, than how a substance we know not should by 
 impulse set body into motion. So that we are no more 
 able to discover wherein the ideas belonging to body 
 consist, than those belonging to spirit. From whence 
 it seems probable to me, that the simple ideas we re- 
 ceive from sensation and reflection are the boundaries 
 of our thoughts; beyond which, the mind, whatever 
 efforts it would make, is not able to advance one jot; 
 nor can it make any discoveries, when it would pry into 
 the nature and hidden causes of those ideas. 
 
 30. 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 im- 
 pulse, we have distinct clear ideas of : so likewise we 
 know and have distinct clear ideas of two primary 
 qualities or properties of spirit, viz., thinking, and a 
 power of action ; i. e., a power of beginning or stopping 
 several thoughts or motions. We have also the ideas 
 of several qualities inherent in bodies, and have the 
 clear distinct ideas of them : which qualities are but 
 the various modifications of the extension of cohering 
 solid parts and their motion. We have likewise the 
 ideas of several modes of thinking, viz., believing, 
 doubting, intending, fearing, hoping; all which are 
 but the several modes of thinking. We have also the
 
 218 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 ideas of willing, and moving the body consequent to 
 it, and with the body itself too; for, as has been 
 showed, 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 im- 
 material spirit may have, perhaps, 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 no- 
 tion of body includes in it; the divisibility in infinitnm 
 of any finite extension involving us, whether we grant 
 or deny it, in consequences impossible to be explicated 
 or made in our apprehensions consistent ; consequences 
 that carry greater difficulty and more apparent absurd- 
 ity, than any thing can follow from the notion of an 
 immaterial knowing substance. 
 
 32. We know nothing beyond 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 in itself within, have 
 no knowledge beyond that, much less of the internal 
 constitution and true nature of things, being destitute 
 of faculties to attain it. And therefore experimenting 
 and discovering in ourselves knowledge and the power 
 of voluntary motion, as certainly as we experiment or 
 discover in things without us the cohesion and sepa- 
 ration of solid parts, which is the extension and mo- 
 tion of bodies ; we have as much reason to be satisfied
 
 OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 219 
 
 with our notion of immaterial spirit, as with our no-, 
 tion of body; and the existence of the one as well 
 as the other. For, it being no more a contradiction 
 that thinking should exist separate and independent 
 from solidity, than it is a contradiction that solidity 
 should exist separate and independent from thinking, 
 they being both but simple ideas, independent one from 
 another; and having as clear and distinct ideas in us 
 of thinking as of solidity, I know not why we may 
 not as well allow a thinking thing without solidity, i.e., 
 immaterial, to exist, as a solid thing without thinking, 
 i.e., matter, to exist; especially since it is not harder to 
 conceive how thinking should exist without matter, 
 than how matter should think. For whensoever we 
 would proceed beyond these simple ideas we have 
 from sensation and reflection, and dive 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 evi- 
 dent, 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 sub- 
 stances, 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 spir- 
 its are made of the simple ideas we receive from 
 reflection: v. g., having, from what we experiment in 
 ourselves, got the ideas of existence and duration, 
 of knowledge and power, of pleasure and happiness, 
 and of several other qualities and powers which it is
 
 220 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 better to have than to be without; when we would 
 frame an idea the most suitable we can to the Su- 
 preme Being, we enlarge every one of these with our 
 idea of infinity ; and so, putting them together, make 
 our complex idea of God. For, that the mind has 
 such a power of enlarging some of its ideas, received 
 from sensation and reflection, has been already showed. 
 
 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 I can add to number; and thus en- 
 large my idea of knowledge, by extending its compre- 
 hension to all things existing or possible. The same 
 also I can do of knowing them more perfectly ; i. e., 
 all their qualities, powers, causes, consequences, and 
 relations, &c., till all be perfectly known that is in them, 
 or can any way relate to them ; and thus frame the idea 
 of infinite or boundless knowledge. The same may 
 also be done of power, till we come to that we call 
 " infinite ; " and also of the duration of existence with- 
 out 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 per- 
 fections (which we can have any ideas of), to that 
 Sovereign 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 them. 
 
 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,
 
 OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 221 
 
 the best we can, the Supreme Being. For though in 
 his own essence, which certainly we do not know (not 
 knowing the real essence of a pebble, or a fly, or of our 
 own selves), God be simple and uncompounded ; yet, 
 I think, I may say we have no other idea of him but 
 a complex one of existence, knowledge, power, happi- 
 ness, &c., infinite and eternal: which are all distinct 
 ideas, and some of them being relative are again com- 
 pounded of others; all which, being, as has been 
 shown, originally got from sensation and reflection, 
 go to make up the idea or notion we have of God. 
 
 36. No ideas in our complex 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 reflection we receive from the 
 operation of our own minds, we can attribute to spirits 
 no other but what we receive from thence: and all 
 the difference we can put between them in our con- 
 templation of spirits, is only in the several extents 
 and degrees of their knowledge, power, duration, hap- 
 piness, &c. For that in our ideas, as well of spirits 
 as of other things, we are restrained to those we receive 
 from sensation and reflection, is evident from hence, 
 that in our ideas of spirits, how much soever advanced 
 in perfection beyond those of bodies, even to that of 
 infinite, we cannot yet have any idea of the manner 
 wherein they discover their thoughts one to another: 
 though we must necessarily conclude that separate 
 spirits, which are beings that have perfecter knowledge 
 and greater happiness than we, must needs have also 
 a perfecter way of communicating their thoughts
 
 222 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 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 no- 
 tion of it at all, we have no idea how spirits which 
 use not words can with quickness, or, much less, how 
 spirits that have no bodies, can be masters of their 
 own thoughts, and communicate or conceal them at 
 pleasure, though we cannot but necessarily suppose 
 they have such a power. 
 
 37. Recapitulation. And thus we have seen what 
 kind of ideas we have of substances of all kinds, where- 
 in 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 sub- 
 stances are nothing but collections of simple ideas, 
 with a supposition of something to which they belong, 
 and in which they subsist; though of this supposed 
 something we have no clear distinct idea at all. 
 
 Secondly, That all the simple ideas that, thus united 
 in one common substratum, make up our complex ideas 
 of several sorts of substances, are no other but such 
 as we have received from sensation or reflection. So 
 that even in those which we think we are most inti- 
 mately acquainted with, and that come nearest the com- 
 prehension of our most enlarged conceptions, we cannot 
 reach 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
 
 OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 223 
 
 or reflection ; as is evident in the complex ideas we have 
 of angels, and particularly of God himself. 
 
 Thirdly, That most of the simple ideas that make 
 up our complex ideas of substances, when truly consid- 
 ered, are only powers, however we are apt to take them 
 for positive qualities : v. g., the greatest part of the ideas 
 that make our complex idea of gold are yellowness, 
 great weight, ductility, fusibility, and solubility in 
 aqua regia, &c., all united together in an unknown 
 substratum; all which ideas are nothing else but so 
 many relations to other substances, and are not really 
 in the gold considered barely in itself, though they de- 
 pend on those real and primary qualities of its inter- 
 nal constitution, whereby it has a fitness differently to 
 operate and be operated on by several other substances. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 OF COLLECTIVE IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 
 
 I. One idea. Besides these complex ideas of sev- 
 eral single substances, as of man, horse, gold, violet, 
 apple, &c., the mind hath also " complex collective 
 ideas " of substances ; which I so call, because such 
 ideas are made up of many particular substances con- 
 sidered 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 consist- 
 ing of a great number of distinct substances, is as much 
 one idea as the idea of a man : and the great collective 
 idea of all bodies whatsoever, signified by the name 
 " world," is as much one idea as the idea of any the 
 least particle of matter in it ; it sufficing to the unity 
 of any idea, that it be considered as one representation
 
 224 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 or picture, though made up of ever so many particu- 
 lars. 
 
 2. Made by the power of composing in the mind. 
 These collective ideas of substances the mind makes 
 by its power of composition, and uniting, severally, 
 either simple or complex ideas into one, as it does by 
 the same faculty make the complex ideas of particular 
 substances, consisting of an aggregate of divers simple 
 ideas united in one substance : and as the mind, by put- 
 ting together the repeated ideas of unity, makes the 
 collective mode or complex idea of any number, as a 
 score, or a gross, &c., so by putting together several 
 particular substances, it makes collective ideas of sub- 
 stances, 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 to- 
 gether as one. 
 
 3. All artificial things are collective ideas. 
 Amongst such kind of collective ideas, are to be 
 counted most part of artificial things, at least such of 
 them as are made up of distinct substances : and in 
 truth, if we consider all these collective ideas aright, 
 as " army, constellation, universe," as they are united 
 into so many single ideas, they are but the artificial 
 draughts of the mind, bringing things very remote, and 
 independent on one another, into one view, the better
 
 OF COLLECTIVE IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES. 225 
 
 to contemplate and discourse of them, united into one 
 conception, and signified by one name. For there are 
 no things so remote, nor so contrary, which the mind 
 cannot, by this art of composition, bring into one idea, 
 as is visible in that signified by the name " universe." 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 OF RELATION. 
 
 I. Relation, what. Besides the ideas, whether 
 simple or complex, that the mind has of things, as they 
 are in themselves, there are others it gets from their 
 comparison one with another. The understanding, in 
 the consideration of any thing, is not confined to that 
 precise object: it can carry any idea, as it were, beyond 
 itself, or, at least, look beyond it to see how it stands 
 in conformity to any other. When the mind so con- 
 siders one thing, that it does, as it were, bring it to 
 and set it by another, and carries its view from one to 
 the other : this is, as the words import, " relation " and 
 " respect ;" and the denominations given to positive 
 things, intimating that respect, and serving as marks 
 to lead the thoughts beyond the subject itself denom- 
 inated to something distinct from it, are what we call 
 " relatives ;" and the things so brought together, " re- 
 lated." 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 man, I have nothing in my mind but the complex 
 idea of the species man. So likewise, when I say, 
 " Caius is a white man," I have nothing but the bare 
 consideration of man who hath that white colour. But 
 when I give Caius the name " husband," I intimate
 
 226 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 some other person ; and when I give him the name 
 " whiter." I intimate some other thing : in both cases 
 my thought is led to something beyond Caius, and there 
 are two things brought into consideration. And since 
 any idea, whether simple or complex, may be the occa- 
 sion why the mind thus brings two things together, and 
 as it were, takes a view of them at once, though still 
 considered as distinct ; therefore any of our ideas may 
 be the foundation of relation. As in the above-men- 
 tioned instance, the contract and ceremony of marriage 
 with Sempronia, is the occasion of the denomination or 
 relation of husband ; and the colour white, the occasion 
 why he is said to be whiter than freestone. 
 
 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 and son, big- 
 ger 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 to another in people's memories, 
 that, upon the naming of either of them, the thoughts 
 are presently carried beyond the thing so named ; and 
 nobody overlooks or doubts of a relation where it is so 
 plainly intimated. But where languages have failed to 
 give correlative names, there the relation is not always 
 so easily taken notice of. " Concubine " is, no doubt, 
 a relative name as well as " wife :" but in languages 
 where this and the like words have not a correlative 
 term, there people are not so apt to take them to be so, 
 as wanting that evident mark of relation which is be- 
 tween correlatives, which seem to explain one another,
 
 OF RELATION. 227 
 
 and not to be able to exist but together. Hence it is 
 that many of those names which, duly considered, do 
 include evident relations, have been called " external 
 denominations." But all names, that are more than 
 empty sounds, must signify some idea which is either 
 in the thing to which the name is applied ; and then it 
 is positive, and is looked on as united to and existing 
 in the thing to which the denomination is given : or 
 else it arises from the respect the mind finds in it to 
 something distinct from it with which it considers it; 
 and then it includes a relation. 
 
 3. Some seemingly absolute terms contain relations. 
 Another sort of relative terms there is, which are 
 not looked on to be either relative or so much as ex- 
 ternal denominations ; which yet, under the form and 
 appearance of signifying something absolute in the 
 subject, do conceal a tacit, though less observable rela- 
 tion. 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 com- 
 pared: v.g., those who have far different ideas of a 
 man, may yet agree in the notion of a father: which 
 is a notion superinduced to the substance, or man, and 
 refers only to an act of that thing called " man," 
 whereby he contributed to the generation of one of his 
 own kind, let man be what it will. 
 
 5. Change of relation may be without any change 
 in the subject. The nature therefore of relation con- 
 sists in the referring or comparing two things one to 
 another ; from which comparison one or both comes
 
 *z8 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 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 re- 
 ceive 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 per- 
 sons, may truly be said to be older and younger, 
 stronger and weaker, &c. 
 
 6. Relation only betwixt two things. Whatsoever 
 doth or can exist, or be considered as one thing, is 
 positive: and so not only simple ideas and substances, 
 but modes also, are positive beings: though the parts 
 of which they consist are very often relative one to 
 another; but the whole together considered as one 
 thing, and producing in us the complex idea of one 
 thing, which idea is in our minds as one picture, 
 though an aggregate of divers parts and under one 
 name, it is a positive or absolute thing or idea. Thus 
 a triangle, though the parts thereof, compared one to 
 another, be relative, yet the idea of the whole is a 
 positive absolute idea. The same may be said of a 
 family, a tune, &c., for there can be no relation but 
 betwixt two things, considered as two things. There 
 must always be in relation two ideas, or things, either 
 in themselves really separate, or considered as distinct, 
 and then a ground or occasion for their comparison. 
 
 7. All things capable of relation. Concerning re- 
 lation in general, these things may be considered. 
 
 First, That there is no one thing, whether simple 
 idea, substance, mode, or relation, or name of either of
 
 OF RELATION. 229 
 
 them, which is not capable of almost an infinite number 
 of considerations in reference to other things ; and 
 therefore this makes no small part of men's thoughts 
 and words : v. g. } one single man may at once be con- 
 cerned in and sustain all these following relations, and 
 many more, viz., father, brother, son, grandfather, 
 grandson, father-in-law, son-in-law, husband, friend, 
 enemy, subject, general, judge, patron, client, profes- 
 sor, European, Englishman, islander, servant, master, 
 possessor, captain, superior, inferior, bigger, less, 
 older, younger, contemporary, like, unlike, &c., to an 
 almost infinite number: he being capable of as many 
 relations as there can be occasions of comparing him 
 to other things, in any manner of agreement, disagree- 
 ment, or respect whatsoever: for, as I said, relation 
 is a way of comparing or considering two things to- 
 gether, and giving one or both of them some appella- 
 tion from that comparison, and sometimes giving even 
 the relation itself a name. 
 
 8. The ideas of relations clearer often than of the 
 subjects related. Secondly, This farther may be con- 
 sidered concerning relation, that though it be not con- 
 tained in the real existence of things, but something 
 extraneous and superinduced ; yet the ideas which rela- 
 tive words stand for are often clearer and more distinct 
 than of those substances to which they do belong. The 
 notion we have of a father or brother is a great deal 
 clearer and more distinct than that we have of a man : 
 or, if you will, paternity is a thing whereof it is easier 
 to have a clear idea than of humanity : and I can much 
 easier conceive what a friend is than what God. Be- 
 cause the knowledge of one action, or one simple idea, 
 is oftentimes sufficient to give the notion of a relation : 
 but to the knowing of any substantial being, an ac-
 
 230 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 \ 
 
 curate collection of sundry ideas is necessary. A man, 
 if he compares two things together, can hardly be sup- 
 posed not to know what it is wherein he compares 
 them: so that when he compares any things together, 
 he cannot but have a very clear idea of that relation. 
 The ideas then of relations are capable at least of being 
 more perfect and distinct in our minds than those of 
 substances. Because it is commonly hard to know 
 all the simple ideas which are really in any substance, 
 but for the most part easy enough to know the simple 
 ideas that make up any relation I think on, or have 
 a name for : v. g., comparing two men, in reference to 
 one common parent, it is very easy to frame the ideas 
 of brothers, without having yet the perfect idea of a 
 man. For, significant relative words, as well as others, 
 standing only for ideas ; and those being all either 
 simple, or made up of simple ones ; it suffices for the 
 knowing the precise idea the relative term stands for, 
 to have a clear conception of that which is the founda- 
 tion of the relation; which may be done without hav- 
 ing a perfect and clear idea of the thing it is attributed 
 to. Thus having the notion that one laid the egg out 
 of which the other was hatched, I have a clear idea of 
 the relation of dam and chick between the two cas- 
 siowaries in St. James's Park ; though, perhaps, I have 
 but a very obscure and imperfect idea of those birds 
 themselves. 
 
 9. Relations all terminate in simple ideas. Thirdly, 
 Though there be a great number of considerations 
 wherein things may be compared one with another, 
 and so a multitude of relations ; yet they all terminate 
 in, and are concerned about, those simple ideas either 
 of sensation or reflection, which I think to be the 
 whole materials of all our knowledge. To clear this,
 
 OF RELATION. 231 
 
 I shall show it in the most considerable relations that 
 we have any notion of; and in some that seem to be 
 the most remote from sense of reflection: which yet 
 will appear to have their ideas from thence, and leave 
 it past doubt, that the notions we have of them are but 
 certain simple ideas, and so originally derived from 
 sense or reflection. 
 
 10. Terms leading the mind beyond the subject 
 denominated are relative. Fourthly, That relation 
 being the considering of one thing with another, 
 which is extrinsical to it, it is evident that all words 
 that necessarily lead the mind to any other ideas than 
 are supposed really to exist in that thing to which the 
 word is 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 
 supposed really to exist in the man thus denominated : 
 but father, brother, king, husband, blacker, merrier, 
 &c., are words which, together with the thing they 
 denominate, imply also something else separate, and 
 exterior to the existence of that thing. 
 
 11. Conclusion. Having laid down these prem- 
 ises concerning relation in general, I shall now pro- 
 ceed to show in some instances, how all the ideas we 
 have of relation are made up, as the others are, only 
 of simple ideas; and that they all, how refined or 
 remote from sense soever they seem, terminate at last 
 in simple ideas. I shall begin with the most compre- 
 hensive relation, wherein all things that do or can 
 exist are concerned ; and that is the relation of cause 
 and effect. The idea whereof, how derived from the 
 two fountains of all our knowledge, sensation and 
 reflection, I shall in the next place consider.
 
 232 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 OF CAUSE AND EFFECT AND OTHER RELATIONS. 
 
 1. Whence their ideas got. In the notice that our 
 senses take of the constant vicissitude of things, we 
 cannot but observe that several particular both qual- 
 ities and substances begin to exist; and that they re- 
 ceive this their existence from the due application and 
 operation of some other being. From this observation 
 we get our ideas of cause and effect. That which 
 produces any simple or complex idea, we denote by 
 the general name " cause ;" and that which is 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 constantly produced by 
 the application of a certain degree of heat, we call the 
 simple idea of heat, in relation to fluidity in wax, the 
 cause of it, and fluidity the effect. So also finding 
 that the substance, wood, which is a certain collection 
 of simple ideas so called, by the application of fire is 
 turned into another substance called " ashes," i. e., an- 
 other 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 produc- 
 ing any particular simple idea, or collection of simple 
 ideas, whether substance or mode, which did not be- 
 fore exist, hath thereby in our minds the relation of 
 a cause, and so is denominated by us. 
 
 2. Creation, generation, making, alteration. Hav- 
 ing thus, from what our senses are able to discover 
 in the operations of bodies on one another, got the
 
 OF CAUSE AND EFFECT. 233 
 
 notion of cause and effect, viz., that a cause is that 
 which makes any other thing, either simple idea, sub- 
 stance, or mode, begin to be, and an effect is that 
 which had its beginning from some other thing, the 
 mind finds no great difficulty to distinguish the several 
 originals of things into two sorts : 
 
 First, When the thing is wholly made new, so that 
 no part thereof did ever exist before ; as when a new 
 particle of matter doth begin to exist, in rerum natura, 
 which had before no being : and this we call " creation." 
 
 Secondly, When a thing is made up of particles 
 which did all of them before exist, but that very thing 
 so constituted of pre-existing particles, which, con- 
 sidered all together, make up such a collection of 
 simple ideas, had not any existence before as this man, 
 this egg, rose, or cherry, &c. And this, when referred 
 to a substance produced in the ordinary course of 
 nature by an internal principle, but set on work by 
 and received from some external agent or cause, and 
 working by insensible ways which we perceive not, 
 we call " generation." When the cause is extrinsical, 
 and the effect produced by a sensible separation or 
 juxtaposition of discernible parts, we call it " mak- 
 ing;" and such are all artificial things. When any 
 simple idea is produced which was not in that sub- 
 ject 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 pro- 
 duced 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 oper- 
 ated to the existence, causes. In which, and all other 
 cases, we may observe, that the notion of cause and 
 effect has its rise from ideas received by sensation or
 
 234 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 reflection ; and that this relation, how comprehensive 
 soever, terminates at last in them. For, to have the 
 idea of cause and effect, it suffices to consider any 
 simple idea or substance as beginning to exist by the 
 operation of some other, without knowing the manner 
 of that operation. 
 
 3. Relations of time. Time and place are also 
 the foundations of very large relations, and all finite 
 beings at least are concerned in them. But having 
 already shown in another place how we get those 
 ideas, it may suffice here to intimate, that most of the 
 denominations of things received from time are only 
 relations : thus, when any one says that " queen Eliza- 
 beth lived sixty-nine, and reigned forty-five, years," 
 these words import only the relation of that duration 
 to some other, and mean no more but this, that the 
 duration of her existence was equal to sixty-nine, and 
 the duration of her government to forty-five, annual 
 revolutions of the sun; and so are all words, answer- 
 ing, how long? Again : " William the Conqueror in- 
 vaded England about the year 1066," which means 
 this, that, taking the duration from our Saviour's 
 time till now for one entire great length of time, it 
 shows at what distance this invasion was from the 
 two extremes : and so do all words of time, answering 
 to the question when, which show only the distance of 
 any point of time, from the period of a longer dura- 
 tion, from which we measure, and to which \ve 
 thereby consider it as related. 
 
 4. There are yet, besides those, other words of 
 time that ordinarily are thought to stand for positive 
 ideas, which yet will, when considered, be found to be 
 relative, such as are " young, old," &c., which include 
 and intimate the relation any thing has to a certain
 
 OF CAUSE AND EFFECT. 235 
 
 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 com- 
 paring the particular age or duration of this or that 
 man to the idea of that duration which we have in our 
 minds, as ordinarily belonging to that sort of animals : 
 which is plain in the application of these names to 
 other things ; for a man is called " young " at twenty 
 years, and " very young " at seven years, old : but yet 
 a horse we call " old " at twenty, and a dog at seven, 
 years ; because in each of these we compare their age 
 to different ideas of duration, which are settled in our 
 mind as belonging to these several sorts of animals, 
 in the ordinary course of nature. But the sun and 
 stars, though they have outlasted several generations 
 of men, we call not " old," because we do not know 
 what period God hath set to that sort of beings : this 
 term belonging properly to those things which we can 
 observe, in the ordinary course of things, by a natural 
 decay, to come to an end in a certain period of time: 
 and so have in our minds, as it were, a standard, to 
 which we can compare the several parts of their dura- 
 tion; and by the relation they bear thereunto, call 
 them young or old ; which we cannot therefore do to 
 a ruby or a diamond, things whose usual periods we 
 know not. 
 
 5. Relations of place and extension. The rela- 
 tion also that things have to one another in their 
 places and distances, is very obvious to observe; as
 
 236 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 " 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 
 mind 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 Welshman, 
 which is but a little one to a Fleming; they too hav- 
 ing, 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 de- 
 nominations 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, signify- 
 ing the disproportion there is in the power of God and 
 the creatures. And so abundance of words, in ordi- 
 nary speech, stand only for relations, (and perhaps
 
 OF CAUSE AND EFFECT. 237 
 
 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 rela- 
 tive words ; one having a relation to the accomplishing 
 the voyage intended, and the other to future use. All 
 which relations, how they are confined to and ter- 
 minate in ideas derived from sensation or reflection, 
 is too obvious to need any explication. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 [OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY.] 
 
 I. [Wherein identity consists. Another occasion 
 the mind often takes 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 diversity. 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 attributed to, vary not at all from 
 what they were that moment wherein we consider 
 their former existence, and to which we compare the 
 present. For we never finding, nor conceiving it pos- 
 sible, that two things of the same kind should exist 
 in the same place at the same time, we rightly con- 
 clude that whatever exists any where at any time, ex- 
 cludes 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
 
 238 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 such a time in such a place, which it was certain at 
 that instant was the same with itself and no other: 
 from whence it follows, that one thing cannot have 
 two beginnings of existence, nor to things one begin- 
 ning, it being impossible for two things of the same 
 kind to be or .exist in the same instant, in the very 
 same place, or one and the same thing in different 
 places. That therefore that had one beginning, is the 
 same thing; and that which had a different beginning 
 in time and place from that, is not the same, but 
 diverse. That which has made the difficulty about 
 this relation, has been the little care and attention used 
 in having precise notions of the things to which it is 
 attributed. 
 
 2. Identity of substances. Identity of modes. 
 We have the ideas but of three sorts of substances : 
 i. God. 2. Finite intelligences. 3. Bodies. First. 
 God is without beginning, eternal, unalterable, and 
 every where; and therefore concerning his identity, 
 there can be no doubt. Secondly. Finite spirits hav- 
 ing had each its determinate time and place of begin- 
 ning to exist, the relation to that time and place will 
 always determine to each of them its identity as long 
 as it exists. Thirdly. The same will hold of every 
 particle of matter, to which no addition or subtraction 
 of matter being made, it is the same. For though 
 these three sorts of substances, as we term them, do 
 not exclude one another out of the same place: yet 
 we cannot conceive but that they must necessarily each 
 of them exclude any of the same kind out of the same 
 place : or else the notions and names of " identity and 
 diversity " would be in vain, and there could be no 
 such distinctions of substances, or any thing else, one 
 from another. For example: Could two bodies be in
 
 * 
 
 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. -.& 
 
 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 dis- 
 tinction of identity and diversity, of one and more, 
 and renders it ridiculous. But, it being a contradic- 
 tion 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 but modes or relations ultimately termin- 
 ated in substances, the identity and diversity of each 
 particular existence of them too will be by the same 
 way determined: only as to things whose existence is 
 in succession, such as are the actions of finite beings, 
 u. g., motion and thought, both which consist in a con- 
 tinued train of succession, concerning their diversity 
 there can be no question : because, each perishing the 
 moment it begins, they cannot exist in different times, 
 or in different places, as permanent beings can at dif- 
 ferent 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. Principium individuationis. From what has 
 been said, it is easy to discover, what is so much in- 
 quired after, the principium individuationis; and that, 
 it is plain, is existence itself, which determines a being 
 of any sort to a partcular time and place incom- 
 municable 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 ap-
 
 240 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 plied; v. g., let us suppose an atom, i. e., a continued 
 body under one immutable superficies, existing in a 
 determined time and place; it is evident, that, con- 
 sidered in any instant of its existence, it is, in that 
 instant, the same with itself. For, being at that in- 
 stant what it is and nothing else, it is the same, and 
 so must continue as long as its existence is continued ; 
 for so long it will be the same and no other. In like 
 manner, if two or more atoms be joined together into 
 the same mass, every one of those atoms will be the 
 same, by the foregoing rule: and whilst they exist 
 united together, the mass, consisting of the same 
 atoms, must be the same mass, or the same body, let 
 the parts be ever so differently jumbled : but if one of 
 these atoms be taken away, or one new one added, it 
 is no longer the same mass, or the same body. In 
 the state of living creatures, their identity depends not 
 on a mass of the same particles, but on something else. 
 For in them the variation of great parcels of matter 
 alters not the identity; an oak, growing from a plant 
 to a great tree, and then lopped, is still the same oak : 
 and a colt, grown up to a horse, sometimes fat, some- 
 times lean, is all the while the same horse : though, in 
 both these cases, there may be a manifest change of 
 the parts; so that truly they are not either of them 
 the same masses of matter, though there be truly one 
 of them the same oak, and the other the same horse. 
 The reason whereof is, that, in these two cases of a 
 mass of matter and a living body, identity is not ap- 
 plied to the same thing. 
 
 4. Identity of vegetables. We must therefore 
 consider wherein an oak differs from a mass of mat- 
 ter ; and that seems to me to be in this : That the one 
 is only the cohesion of particles of matter any how
 
 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 241 
 
 united: the other such a disposition of them as con- 
 stitutes the parts of an oak, and such an organization 
 of those parts as is fit to receive and distribute 
 nourishment, so as to continue and frame the wood, 
 bark, and leaves, &c., of an oak, in which consists the 
 vegetable life. That being then one plant which has 
 such an organization of parts in one coherent body, 
 partaking of one common life, it continues to be the 
 same plant as long as it partakes of the same life, 
 though that life be communicated to new particles of 
 matter vitally united to the living plant in a like con- 
 tinued organization, conformable to that sort of plants. 
 For this organization being at any one instant in any 
 one collection of matter, is in that particular concrete 
 distinguished from all other, and is that individual life 
 which existing constantly from that moment both for- 
 wards and backwards, in the same continuity of in- 
 sensibly succeeding parts united to the living body of 
 the plant, it has that identity which makes the same 
 plant, and all the parts of it parts of the same plant, 
 during all the time that they exist united in that con- 
 tinued organization, which is fit to convey that com- 
 mon life 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 illustrate it. For example : what is a watch ? 
 It is plain it is nothing but a fit organization or con- 
 struction of parts to a certain end, which, when a suffi- 
 cient force is added to it, it is capable to attain. If we 
 would suppose this machine one continued body, all 
 whose organized parts were repaired, increased, or 
 diminished, by a constant addition or separation of in-
 
 242 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 sensible parts, with one common life, we should have 
 something very much like the body of an animal, with 
 this difference, that in an animal the fitness of the 
 organization, and the motion wherein life consists, be- 
 gin together, the motion coming from within ; but in 
 machines, the force coming sensibly from without, is 
 often away when the organ is in order, and well fitted 
 to receive it. 
 
 6. Identity of wan. 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 continued under one organi- 
 zation of life in several successively fleeting particles 
 of matter united to it, will find it hard to make an 
 embryo, one of years, mad, and sober, the same man, 
 by any supposition that will not make it possible for 
 Seth, Ismael, Socrates, Pilate, St. Austin, and Caesar 
 Borgia, to be the same man. For if the identity of 
 soul alone makes the same man, and there be nothing 
 in the nature of matter why the same individual spirit 
 may not be united to different bodies it will be possible 
 that those men living in distant ages, and of different 
 tempers, may have been the same man : which way of 
 speaking must be from a very strange use of the word 
 " man," applied to an idea out of which body and 
 shape is 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 de- 
 truded into the bodies of beasts, as fit habitations, with
 
 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 243 
 
 organs suited to the satisfaction of their brutal inclina- 
 tions. 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 iden- 
 tity, 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 sub- 
 stance," 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 pre- 
 vented a great deal of that confusion which often 
 occurs about this matter, with no small seeming diffi- 
 culties, especially concerning personal identity, which 
 therefore we shall in the next 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 succes- 
 sively to be united to that organized living body. 
 And, whatever is talked of other definitions, in- 
 genious observations puts it past doubt, that the idea 
 in our minds, of which the sound " man," in our 
 mouths is the sign, is nothing else but of an animal of 
 such a certain form : since I think I may be confident, 
 that whoever should see a creature of his own shape 
 or make, though it had no more reason all its life 
 than a cat or a parrot, would call him still a " man ; " 
 or whoever should hear a cat or a parrot discourse, 
 reason, and philosophize, would call or think it noth-
 
 244 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 ing 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. [A relation we have in an author of 
 great note, is sufficient to countenance the supposition 
 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 had heard so often from many others of 
 an old parrot he had in Brazil, during his government 
 there, that spoke, and asked and answered common 
 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 
 afterwards 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 as- 
 severed by people hard to be discredited, which made 
 me ask prince Maurice what there was of it. He 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 
 Brazil; and though he believed nothing of it, and it 
 was 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 into 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 he thought that man was, 
 pointing at the prince? It answered, 'Some general 
 or other/ When they brought it close to him, he
 
 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 245 
 
 asked it, D'ou venez-vousf It answered, De Marinnan. 
 The prince, A qui estes-vousf The parrot, A un 
 Portugais. Prince, Que fais-tu la? Parrot, Je 
 garde les poules. The prince laughed, and said, Vous 
 gardes les poules? The parrot answered, Ouy, moy, 
 et je s$ai bien 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 
 dialogue in French, just as prince Maurice said them 
 to me. I asked him in what language the parrot 
 spoke? and he said, In Brazilian; I asked whether he 
 understood Brazilian ? He said, No : but he had taken 
 care to have two interpreters by him, the one a Dutch- 
 man that spoke Brazilian, and the other a Brazilian 
 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 perhaps amiss to relieve or 
 enliven a busy scene sometimes with such digressions, 
 whether to the purpose or no." f 
 I have taken care that the reader should have the 
 
 *"' Whence came ye?' It answered, 'From Marinnan.' 
 The PRINCE, 'To whom do you belong?' The PARROT, To 
 a Portuguese.' PRINCE, 'What do you there?' PARROT, 'I 
 look after the chickens.' The PRINCE laughed and said, ' You 
 look after the chickens ? ' The PARROT answered, ' Yes, I, 
 and I know well enough how to do it.' " 
 
 t " Memoirs of what passed in Christendom, from 1672 to 
 1679."
 
 246 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 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 testimonies 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 in- 
 credible, he could not but also think ridiculous. 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 I ask any one else, who 
 thinks such a story fit to be told, whether if this par- 
 rot, and all of its kind, had always talked, as we have 
 a prince's word for it, as 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 pre- 
 sume it is not the idea of a thinking or rational being 
 alone that makes the idea of a man in most people's 
 sense, but of a body, so and so shaped, joined to it; 
 and if that be the idea of a man, the same successive 
 body not shifted all at once must, as well as the same 
 immaterial spirit, go to the making of the same man. 
 9. Personal identity. This being premised, to find 
 wherein personal identity consists, we must consider 
 what " person " stands for ; which I think, is a thinking 
 intelligent being, that has reason and reflection, and 
 can consider itself as itself, the same thinking thing, 
 in different times and places; which it does only by 
 that consciousness which is inseparable from thinking, 
 and it seems to me essential to it : it being impossible 
 for any one to perceive, without perceiving that he
 
 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 247 
 
 does perceive. When we see, hear, smell, taste, feel, 
 meditate, or will any thing, we know that we do so. 
 Thus it is always as to our present sensations and per- 
 ceptions : and by this every one is to himself that which 
 he calls "self;" it not being considered, in this case, 
 whether the' same self be continued in the same or 
 diverse substances. For since consciousness always 
 accompanies thinking, and it is that that makes every 
 one to be what he calls " self," and thereby distin- 
 guishes himself from all other thinking things ; in this 
 alone consists personal identity, ie., 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 
 substance? This, few would think they had reason to 
 doubt of, if these perceptions, with their consciousness, 
 always remained present in the mind, whereby the 
 same thinking thing would be always consciously pres- 
 ent, and, as would be thought, evidently the same to 
 itself. B.ut that which seems to make the difficulty is 
 this, that this consciousness being interrupted always 
 by forgetfulness, there being no moment of our lives 
 wherein we have the whole train of all our past actions 
 before our eyes in one view : but even the best mem- 
 ories losing the sight of one part whilst they are view- 
 ing 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
 
 248 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 that consciousness which remarks our waking- 
 thoughts: I say, in all these cases, our consciousness 
 being interrupted, and we losing the sight of our past 
 selves, doubts are raised whether we are the same 
 thinking thing, i. e., the same substance, or no ? which, 
 however reasonable or unreasonable, concerns not per- 
 sonal identity at all: the question being, what makes 
 the same person ? and not, whether it be the same iden- 
 tical 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 
 substance, by the unity of one continued life. For it 
 being the same consciousness that makes a man be him- 
 self to himself, personal identity depends on that only, 
 whether it be annexed solely to one individual sub- 
 stance, or can be continued in a succession of several 
 substances. For as far as any intelligent being can re- 
 peat the idea of any past action with the same con- 
 sciousness it had of it at first, and with the same con- 
 sciousness it has of any present action ; so far it is the 
 same personal self. For it is by the consciousness it 
 has of its present thoughts and actions that it is self to 
 itself now, and so will be the same self, as far as the 
 same consciousnes can extend to actions past or to 
 come ; and would be by distance of time, or change of 
 substance, no more two persons than a man be two 
 men, by wearing other clothes to-day than he did yes- 
 terday, with a long or short sleep betweeen : the same 
 consciousness uniting those distant actions into the 
 same person, whatever substance contributed to their 
 production.
 
 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 249 
 
 11. Personal identity in change of substances. 
 That this is so, we have some kind of evidence in our 
 very bodies, all whose particles whilst vitally united 
 to this same thinking conscious self, so that we feel 
 when they are touched, and are affected by and con- 
 scious of good or harm that happens to them are a 
 part of ourselves ; *. e., of our thinking conscious self. 
 Thus the limbs of his body is to every one a part of 
 himself : he sympathises and is concerned for them. Cut 
 off an hand and thereby separate it from that con- 
 sciousness he had of its heat, cold, and other affec- 
 tions, and it is then no longer a part of that which is 
 himself, any more than the remotest part of matter. 
 Thus we see the substance, whereof personal self con- 
 sisted at one time, may be varied at another, without 
 the change of personal identity ; there being no question 
 about the same person, though the limbs, which but 
 now were a part of it, be cut off. 
 
 12. Whether in the change of thinking substances. 
 But the question is, Whether, if the same substance 
 which thinks be changed, it can be the same person, 
 or remaining the same, it can be different persons? 
 
 And to this I answer, First, This can be no question 
 at all to those who place thought in a purely material, 
 animal constitution, void of an immaterial substance. 
 For, whether their supposition be true or no, it is plain 
 they conceive personal identity preserved in something 
 else than identity of substance; as animal identity is 
 preserved in identity of life, and not of substance. 
 And therefore those who place thinking in an im- 
 material substance only, before they can come to deal 
 with these men, must show why personal identity can- 
 not be preserved in the change of immaterial sub- 
 stances, or variety of particular immaterial substances,
 
 250 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 as well as animal identity is preserved in the change 
 of material substances, or variety of particular bodies : 
 unless they will say, it is one immaterial spirit that 
 makes the same life in brutes, as it is one immaterial 
 spirit that makes the same person in men, which the 
 Cartesians at least will not admit, for fear of making 
 brutes thinking things too. 
 
 13. But next, as to the first part of the question, 
 Whether, if the same thinking substance (supposing 
 immaterial substances only to think) be changed, it 
 can be the same person? 'I answer, That cannot be 
 resolved but by those who know what kind of sub- 
 stances they are that do think, and whether the con- 
 sciousness of past actions can be transferred from one 
 thinking substance to another. I grant, were the same 
 consciousness the same individual action, it could not ; 
 but it being but a present representation of a past 
 action, why it may not be possible that that may be 
 represented to the mind to have been which really 
 never was, will remain to be shown. And therefore 
 how far the consciousness of past actions is annexed 
 to any individual agent, so that another cannot pos- 
 sibly have it, will be hard for us to determine, till we 
 know what kind of action it is that cannot be done 
 without a reflex act of perception accompanying it, 
 and how performed by thinking substances who can- 
 not think without being conscious of it. But that 
 which we call " the same consciousness " not being the 
 same individual act, why one intellectual substance 
 may not have represented to it as done by itself what 
 it never did, and was perhaps done by some other 
 agent ; why, I say, such a representation may not pos- 
 sibly be without reality of matter of fact, as well as 
 several representations in dreams are, which yet, whilst
 
 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 251 
 
 dreaming, we take for true, will be difficult to conclude 
 from the nature of things. And that it never is so, 
 will by us (till we have clearer views of the nature 
 of thinking substances) be best resolved into the good- 
 ness of God, who, as far as the happiness or misery 
 of any of his sensible creatures is concerned in it, will 
 not by a fatal error of theirs transfer from one to an- 
 other that consciousness which draws reward or pun- 
 ishment with it. How far this may be an argument 
 against those who would place thinking in a system of 
 fleeting animal spirits, I leave to be considered. But 
 yet, to return to the question before us, it must be 
 allowed, that if the same consciousness (which, as has 
 been shown, is quite a different thing from the same 
 numerical figure or motion in body) can be transferred 
 from one thinking substance to another, it will be 
 possible that two thinking substances may make but 
 one person. For the same consciousness being pre- 
 served, whether in the same or different substances, 
 the personal identity is preserved. 
 
 14. As to the second part of the question, Whether, 
 the same immaterial substance remaining, there may - 
 be two distinct persons ? Which question seems to me 
 to be built on this, Whether the same immaterial being, 
 being conscious of the action of its past duration, 
 may be wholly stripped of all the consciousness of its 
 past existence, and lose it beyond the power of ever 
 retrieving it again ; and so, as it were, beginning a new 
 account from a new period, have a consciousness that 
 cannot reach beyond this new state? All those who 
 hold pre-existence are evidently of this mind, since 
 they allow the soul to have no remaining consciousness 
 of what it did in that pre-existent state, either wholly 
 separate from body, or informing any other body ; and
 
 252 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 if they should not, it is plain experience would-be 
 against them. So that personal identity reaching no 
 farther than consciousness reaches, a pre-existent spirit 
 not having continued so many ages in a state of silence, 
 must needs make different persons. Suppose a Chris- 
 tian, Platonist, or a Pythagorean, should, upon God's 
 having ended all his works of creation the seventh 
 day, think his soul hath existed ever since ; and should 
 imagine it has revolved in several human bodies, as I 
 once met with one who was persuaded his had been 
 the soul of Socrates: (how reasonably I will not dis- 
 pute: this I know, that in the post he filled, which 
 was no inconsiderable one, he passed for a very 
 rational man ; and the press has shown that he wanted 
 not parts or learning:) would any one say, that he, 
 being not conscious of any of Socrates's actions or 
 thoughts, could be the same person with Socrates? 
 Let any one reflect upon himself, and conclude, that 
 he has in himself an immaterial spirit, which is that 
 which thinks in him, and in the constant change of his 
 body keeps him the same; and is that which he calls 
 himself: let him also suppose it to be the same soul 
 that was in Nestor or Thersites, at the siege of Troy, 
 ( for souls being, as far as we know any thing of them, 
 in their nature indifferent to any parcel of matter, the 
 supposition has no apparent absurdity in it), which it 
 may have been as well as it is now the soul of any 
 other man : but he now having no consciousness of 
 any of the actions either of Nestor or Thersites, does 
 or can he conceive himself the same person with either 
 of them? Can he be concerned in either of their 
 actions? attribute them to himself, or think them his 
 own, more than the actions of any other man that ever 
 existed? So that this consciousness not reaching to
 
 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 253 
 
 any of the actions of either of those men, he is no 
 more one self with either of them, than if the soul or 
 immaterial spirit that now informs him had been 
 created and began to exist when it began to inform 
 his present body, though it were never so true that the 
 same spirit that informed Nestor's or Thersites's body 
 were numerically the same that now informs his. For 
 this would no more make him the same person with 
 Nestor, than if some of the particles of matter that 
 were once a part of Nestor were now a part of this 
 man ; the same immaterial substance, without the same 
 consciousness, no more making the same person by 
 being united to any body, than the same particle of 
 matter, without consciousness, united ^ to any body, 
 makes the same person. But let him once find himself 
 conscious of any of the actions of Nestor, he then finds 
 himself the same person with Nestor. 
 
 15. And thus we may be able, without any diffi- 
 culty, to conceive the same person at the resurrection, 
 though in a body not exactly in make or parts the 
 same which he had here, the same consciousness going 
 along with the soul that inhabits it. But yet the soul 
 alone, in the change of bodies, would scarce to any 
 one, but to him that makes the soul the man, be 
 enough to make the same man. For, should the soul 
 of a prince, carrying with it the consciousness of the 
 prince's past life, enter and inform the body of a 
 cobbler, as soon as deserted by his own 'soul, every one 
 sees he would be the same person with the prince, 
 accountable only for the prince's actions : but who 
 would say it was the same man? The body too goes 
 to the making of the man, and would, I guess, to 
 every body determine the man in this case, wherein 
 the soul, with all its princely thoughts about it, would
 
 254 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 not make another man; but he would be the same 
 cobbler to every one besides himself. I know that, in 
 the ordinary way of speaking, the same person and 
 the same man stand for one and the same thing. And, 
 indeed, every one will always have a liberty to speak 
 as he pleases, and to apply what articulate sounds to 
 what ideas he thinks fit, and change them as often as 
 he pleases. But yet, when we will inquire what makes 
 the same spirit, man, or person, we must fix the ideas 
 of spirit, man, or person in our minds; and having 
 resolved with ourselves what we mean by them, it will 
 not be hard to determine in either of them, or the like, 
 when it is the same and when not. 
 
 16. Consciousness makes the same person. But 
 though the same immaterial substance or soul does 
 not alone, wherever it be, and in whatsoever state, 
 make the same man; yet it is plain, consciousness, as 
 far as ever it can be extended, should it be to ages 
 past, unites existences and actions, very remote in 
 time, into the same person, as well as it does the exist- 
 ences and actions of the immediately preceding mo- 
 ment : so that whatever has the consciousness of pres- 
 ent and past actions is the same person to whom they 
 both belong. Had I the same consciousness that I saw 
 the ark and Noah's flood, as that I saw an overflowing 
 of the Thames last winter, or as that I write now, I 
 could no more doubt that I who write this now, that 
 saw the Thames overflowed last winter, and that 
 viewed the flood at the general deluge, was the same 
 self, place that self in what substance you please, than 
 that I who write this am the same myself now whilst 
 I write (whether I consist of all the same substance, 
 material or immaterial, or no) that I was yesterday. 
 For, as to this point of being the same self, it matters
 
 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 255 
 
 not whether this present self be made up of the same 
 or other substances, I being as much concerned and 
 as justly accountable for any action was done a thou- 
 sand years since, appropriated to me now by this self- 
 consciousness, as I am for what I did the last mo- 
 ment. 
 
 17. Self depends on consciousness. Self is that 
 conscious thinking thing (whatever substance made 
 up of, whether spiritual or material, simple or com- 
 pounded, it matters not) which is sensible or conscious 
 of pleasure and pain, capable of happiness or misery, 
 and so is concerned for itself, as far as that conscious- 
 ness extends. Thus every one finds, that whilst com- 
 prehended under that consciousness, the little finger 
 is as much a part of himself as what is most so. Upon 
 separation of this little finger, should this conscious- 
 ness go along with the little finger, and leave the rest 
 of the body, it is evident the little finger would be the 
 person, the same person; and self then would have 
 nothing to do with the rest of the body. As in this 
 case it is the consciousness that goes along with the 
 substance, when one part is separate from another, 
 which makes the same person, and constitutes this in- 
 separable self, so it is in reference to substances re- 
 mote in time. That with which the consciousness of 
 this present thinking thing can join itself makes the 
 same person, and is one self with it, and with nothing 
 else ; and so attributes to itself and owns all the actions 
 of that thing as its own, as far as that consciousness 
 reaches, and no farther ; as every one who reflects will 
 perceive. 
 
 1 8. Object of reward and punishment. In this 
 personal identity is founded all the right and justice 
 of reward and punishment; happiness and misery
 
 256 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 being that for which every one is concerned for him- 
 self, not mattering what becomes of any substance not 
 joined to or affected with that consciousness. For as 
 it is evident in the instance I gave but now, if the con- 
 sciousness went along with the little finger when it 
 was cut off, that would be the same self which was con- 
 cerned for the whole body yesterday, as making a part 
 of itself, whose actions then it cannot but admit as its 
 own now. Though, if the same body should still live, 
 and immediately from the separation of the little ringer 
 have its own peculiar consciousness, whereof the little 
 finger knew nothing, it would not at all be concerned 
 for it, as a part of itself, or could own any of 
 its actions, or have any of them imputed to him. 
 
 19. This may show us wherein personal identity 
 consists, not in the identity of substance, but, as I have 
 said, in the identity of consciousness; wherein if So- 
 crates and the present mayor of Queinborough agree, 
 they are the same person. If the same Socrates wak- 
 ing and sleeping do not partake of the same con- 
 sciousness, Socrates waking and sleeping is not the 
 same person ; and to punish Socrates waking for what 
 sleeping Socrates thought, and waking Socrates was 
 never conscious of, would be no more of right than to 
 punish one twin for what his brother-twin did, 
 whereof he knew nothing, because their outsides \vere 
 so like that they could not be distinguished ; for such 
 twins have been seen. 
 
 20. But yet possibly it will still be objected, " Sup- 
 pose I wholly lose the memory of some parts of my 
 life, beyond the possibility of retrieving them so that 
 perhaps I shall never be conscious of them again ; yet 
 am I not the same person that did those actions, had 
 those thoughts, that I was once conscious of, though I
 
 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 257 
 
 have now forgot them ? " To which I answer, That 
 we must here take notice what the word " I " is ap- 
 plied to ; which in this case, is the man only. And the 
 same man being presumed to be the same person, " I " 
 is easily here supposed to stand also for the same per- 
 son. But if it be possible for the same man to have 
 distinct incommunicable consciousnesses at different 
 times, it is past doubt the same man would at differ- 
 ent times make different persons ; which, we see, is the 
 sense of mankind in the solemnest declaration of their 
 opinions, human laws not punishing the mad man for 
 the sober man's actions, nor the sober man for what 
 the mad man did, thereby making them two persons; 
 which is somewhat explained by our way of speaking 
 in English, when we say, " Such an one is not himself, 
 or is beside himself;" in which phrases it is insinuated 
 as if those who now or, at least, first used them, 
 thought that self was changed, the self-same person 
 was no longer in that man. 
 
 21. Difference between identity of man and person. 
 But yet it is hard to conceive that Socrates, the 
 same individual man, should be two persons. To help 
 us a little in this, we must consider what is meant by 
 Socrates, or the same individual man. 
 
 First, It must be either the same individual, im- 
 material, thinking substance: in short, the same 
 numerical soul, and nothing else. 
 
 Secondly, Or the same animal, without any regard 
 to an immaterial soul. 
 
 Thirdly, Or the same immaterial spirit united to the 
 same animal. 
 
 Now, take which of these suppositions you please, 
 it is impossible to make personal identity to consist in
 
 258 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 any thing but consciousness, or reach any farther than 
 that does. 
 
 For by the first of them, it must be allowed possible 
 that a man born of different women, and in distant 
 times, may be the same man. A way of speaking 
 which, whoever admits, must allow it possible for the 
 same man to be two distinct persons, as any two that 
 have lived in different ages, without the knowledge 
 of one another's thoughts. 
 
 By the second and third, Socrates in this life and 
 after it cannot be the same man any way but by the 
 same consciousness ; and so, making human identity 
 to consist in the same thing wherein we place per- 
 sonal identity, there will be no difficulty to allow the 
 same man to be the same person. But then they who 
 place human identity in consciousness only, and not 
 in something else, must consider how they will make 
 the infant Socrates the same man with Socrates after 
 the resurrection. But whatsoever to some men makes 
 a man, and consequently the same individual man, 
 wherein perhaps few are agreed, personal identity can 
 by us be placed in nothing but consciousness (which 
 is that alone which makes what we call " self "), with- 
 out involving us in great absurdities. 
 
 22. " But is not a man drunk and sober the same 
 person ? Why else is he punished for the fact he com- 
 'mits when drunk, though he be never afterwards con- 
 scious of it ? " Just as much the same person as a 
 man that walks and does other things in his sleep is 
 the same person, and is answerable for any mischief 
 he shall do in it. Human laws punish both with a 
 justice suitable to their way of knowledge ; because in 
 these cases they cannot distinguish certainly what is 
 real, what counterfeit ; and so the ignorance in drunk-
 
 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 259 
 
 enness or sleep is not admitted as a plea. [For, though 
 punishment be annexed to personality, and personality 
 to consciousness, and the drunkard perhaps be not 
 conscious of what he did; yet human judicatures 
 justly punish him, because the fact is proved against 
 him, but want of consciousness cannot be proved for 
 him.] But in the great day, wherein the secrets of all 
 hearts shall be laid open, it may be reasonable to think, 
 no one shall be made to answer for what he knows 
 nothing of; but shall receive his doom, his conscience 
 accusing or excusing. 
 
 23. Consciousness alone makes self. Nothing but 
 consciousness can unite remote existences into the same 
 person ; the identity of substance will not do it. For, 
 whatever substance there is, however framed, without 
 consciousness there is no person : and a carcass may be 
 a person, as well as any sort of substance be so without 
 consciousness. 
 
 Could we suppose two distinct incommunicable con- 
 sciousnesses acting the same body, the one constantly 
 by day, the other by night ; and, on the other side, the 
 same consciousness acting by intervals two distinct 
 bodies : I ask, in the first case, whether the day and the 
 night man would not be two as distinct persons as So- 
 crates and Plato ? and whether, in the second case, there 
 would not be one person in two distinct bodies, as much 
 as one man is the same in two distinct clothings ? Nor 
 is it at all material to say, that this same and this dis- 
 tinct consciousness, in the cases above mentioned, is 
 owing to the same and distinct immaterial substances, 
 bringing it with them to those bodies ; which, whether 
 true or no, alters not the case : since it is evident the 
 personal identity would equally be determined by the 
 consciousness, whether that consciousness were an-
 
 260 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 nexed to some individual immaterial substance or no. 
 For, granting that the thinking substance in man must 
 be necessarily supposed immaterial, it is evident that 
 immaterial thinking thing may sometimes part with 
 its past consciousness, and be restored to it again, as 
 appears in the forgetfulness men often have of their 
 past actions, and the mind many times recovers the 
 memory of a past consciousness which it had lost for 
 twenty years together. Make these intervals of mem- 
 ory and forgetfulness to take their turns regularly by 
 day and night, and you have two persons with the same 
 immaterial spirit, as much as in the former instance 
 two persons with the same body. So that self is not 
 determined by identity or diversity of substance, which 
 it cannot be sure of, but only by identity of conscious- 
 ness. 
 
 24. Indeed, it may conceive the substance whereof 
 it is now made up to have existed formerly, united in 
 the same conscious being : but, consciousness removed, 
 that substance is no more itself, or makes no more a 
 part of it, than any other substance; as is evident in 
 the instance we have already given of a limb cut off, 
 of whose heat, or cold, or other affections, having no 
 longer any consciousness, it is no more of a man's 
 self than any other matter of the universe. In like 
 manner it will be in reference to any immaterial sub- 
 stance, which is void of that consciousness whereby I 
 am myself to myself: [if there be any part of its exist- 
 ence which] I cannot upon recollection join with that 
 present consciousness whereby I am now myself, it is 
 in that part of its existence no more myself than any 
 other immaterial being. For, whatsoever any substance 
 has thought or done, which I cannot recollect, and by 
 my consciousness make my own thought and action, it
 
 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 261 
 
 will no more belong to me, whether a part of me 
 thought or did it, than if it had been thought or done 
 by any other immaterial being any where existing. 
 
 25. I agree, the more probable opinion is, that this 
 consciousness is annexed to, and the affection of, one 
 individual immaterial substance. 
 
 But let men, according to their diverse hypotheses, 
 resolve of that as they please. This every intelligent 
 being, sensible of happiness or misery, must grant, that 
 there is something that is himself that he is concerned 
 for, and would have happy ; that this self has existed in 
 a continued duration more than one instant, and there- 
 fore it is possible may exist, as it has done, months and 
 years to come, without any certain bounds to be set to 
 its duration; and may be the same self, by the same 
 consciousness, continued on for the future. And thus, 
 by this consciousness, he finds himself to be the same 
 self which did such or such an action some years since, 
 by which he comes to be happy or miserable now. In 
 all which account of self, the same numerical substance 
 is not considered as making the same self : but the same 
 continued consciousness, in which several substances 
 may have been united, and again separated from it, 
 which, whilst they continued in a vital union with that 
 wherein this consciousness then resided, made a part of 
 that same self. Thus any part of our bodies vitally 
 united to that which is conscious in us, makes a part 
 of ourselves : but upon separation from the vital union 
 by which that consciousness is communicated, that 
 which a moment since was part of ourselves is now no 
 more so than a part of another man's self is a part of 
 me, and it is not impossible but in a little time may 
 become a real part of another person. And so we have 
 the same numerical substance become a part of two
 
 162 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 different persons, and the same person preserved under 
 the change of various substances. Could we suppose 
 any spirit wholly stripped of all its memory or con- 
 sciousness of past actions, as we find our minds always 
 are of a great part of ours, and sometimes of them all, 
 the union or separation of such a spiritual substance 
 would make no variation of personal identity, any more 
 than that of any particle of matter does. Any substance 
 vitally united to the present thinking being, is a part 
 of that very same self which now is : any thing united 
 to it by a consciousness of former actions, makes also 
 a part of the same self, which is the same both then 
 and now. 
 
 26. " Person," a forensic term. " Person," as I 
 take it, is the name for this self. Wherever a man 
 finds what he calls " himself," there, I think, another 
 may say is the same person. It is a forensic term ap- 
 propriating actions and their merit; and so belongs 
 only to intelligent agents capable of a law, and happi- 
 ness and misery. This personality extends itself beyond 
 present existence to what is past, only by conscious- 
 ness; whereby it becomes concerned and accountable, 
 owns and imputes to itself past actions, just upon the 
 same ground and for the same reason as it does the 
 present. All which is founded in a concern for happi- 
 ness, the unavoidable concomitant of consciousness; 
 that which is conscious of pleasure and pain desiring 
 that that self that is conscious should be happy. And 
 therefore whatever past actions it cannot reconcile or 
 appropriate to that present self by consciousness, it 
 can be no more concerned in, than if they had never 
 been done : and to receive pleasure or pain, i. e., reward 
 or punishment, on the account of any such action, is 
 all one as to be made happy or miserable in its first
 
 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 263 
 
 being without any demerit at all. For, supposing a 
 man punished now for what he had done in another 
 life, whereof he could be made to have no conscious- 
 ness at all, what difference is there between that pun- 
 ishment and being created miserable? And therefore, 
 conformable to this, the apostle tells us, that at the 
 great day, when every one shall " receive according to 
 his doings, the secrets of all hearts shall be laid open." 
 The sentence shall be justified by the consciousness all 
 persons shall have that they themselves, in what bodies 
 soever they appear, or what substances soever that 
 consciousness adheres to, are the same that committed 
 those actions, and deserve that punishment for them. 
 
 27. I am apt enough to think I have, in treating of 
 this subject, made some suppositions that will look 
 strange to some readers, and possibly they are so in 
 themselves. But yet, I think, they are such as are 
 pardonable in this ignorance we are in of the nature of 
 that thinking thing that is in us, and which we look on 
 as ourselves. Did we know what it was, or how it was 
 tied to a certain system of fleeting animal spirits; or 
 whether it could or could not perform its operations of 
 thinking and memory out of a body organized as ours 
 is; and whether it has pleased God that no one such 
 spirit shall ever be united to any but one such body, 
 upon the right constitution of whose organs its mem- 
 ory should depend, we might see the absurdity of some 
 of those suppositions I have made. But taking, as we 
 ordinarily now do (in the dark concerning these mat- 
 ters), the soul of a man for an immaterial substance, 
 independent from matter, and indifferent alike to it 9l, 
 there can from the nature of things be no absurdity at 
 all to suppose that the same soul may, at different 
 times, be united to different bodies, and with them
 
 264 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 make up, for that time, one man; as well as we sup- 
 pose a part of a sheep's body yesterday, should be a 
 part of a man's body to-morrow, and in that union 
 make a vital part of Meliboeus himself, as well as it did 
 of his ram. 
 
 28. The difficulty from ill use of names. To con- 
 clude : Whatever substance begins to exist, it must, 
 during its existence, necessarily be the same ; whatever 
 compositions of substances begin to exist, during the 
 union of those substances, the concrete must be the 
 same : whatsoever mode begins to exist, during its ex- 
 istence it is the same : and so if the composition be of 
 distinct substances and different modes, the same rule 
 holds. Whereby it will appear, that the difficulty or 
 obscurity that has been about this matter rather rises 
 from the names ill used, than from any obscurity in 
 things themselves. For whatever makes the specific 
 idea to which the name is applied, if that idea be stead- 
 ily kept to, the distinction of any thing into the same 
 and diverse will easily be conceived, and there can arise 
 no doubt about it. 
 
 29. Continued existence makes identity. For sup- 
 posing a rational spirit be the idea of a man, it is easy 
 to know what is the same man; viz., the same spirit, 
 whether separate or in a body, will be the same man. 
 Supposing a rational spirit vitally united to a body of 
 a certain conformation of parts to make a man, whilst 
 that rational spirit, with that vital conformation of 
 parts, though continued in a fleeting successive body, 
 remains, it will be the same man. But if to any one 
 the idea of a man be but the vital union of the parts in 
 a certain shape, as long as that vital union and shape 
 remins, in a concrete no otherwise the same but by a 
 continued succession of fleeting particles, it will be the
 
 OF IDENTITY AND DIVERSITY. 265 
 
 same man. For, whatever be the composition whereof 
 the complex idea is made, whenever existence makes 
 it one particular thing under any denomination, the 
 same existence, continued, preserves it the same in- 
 dividual under the same denomination.
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OF KNOWLEDGE IN GENERAL. 
 
 1. Our knowledge conversant about our ideas. 
 Since the mind, in all its thoughts and reasonings, hath 
 no other immediate object but its own ideas, which it 
 alone does or can contemplate, it is evident that our 
 knowledge is only conversant about them. 
 
 2. Knowledge is the perception of the agreement or 
 disagreement of two ideas. Knowledge then seems to 
 me to be nothing but the perception of the connection of 
 and agreement, or disagreement and repugnancy, of 
 any of our ideas. In this alone it consists. Where this 
 perception is, there is knowledge ; and where it is not, 
 there, though we may fancy, guess, or believe, yet we 
 always come short of knowledge. For, when we know 
 that white is not black, what do we else but perceive 
 that these two ideas do not agree? When we possess 
 ourselves with the utmost security of the demonstration 
 that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two 
 right ones, what do we more but perceive, that equality 
 to two right ones does necessarily agree to, and is in- 
 separable from, the three angles of a triangle? 
 
 3. This agreement fourfold. - But, to understand 
 a little more distinctly, wherein this agreement or dis- 
 agreement consists. I think we may reduce it all to 
 
 2t>7
 
 268 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 these four sorts: (i.) Identity, or diversity. (2.) 
 Relation. (3.) Co-existence, or necessary connection. 
 (4.) Real existence. 
 
 4. First, Of identity or diversity. First, As to the 
 first sort of agreement or disagreement, viz., identity, 
 or diversity. It is the first act of the mind, when it has 
 any sentiments or ideas at all, to perceive its ideas, and, 
 so far as it perceives them, to know each what it is, 
 and thereby also to perceive their difference, and that 
 one is not another. This is so absolutely necessary, 
 that without it there could be no knowledge, no reason- 
 ing, no imagination, no distinct thoughts at all. ,By 
 this the mind clearly and infallibly perceives each idea 
 to agree with itself, and to be what it is ; and all distinct 
 ideas to disagree, i. e., the one not to be the other : and 
 this it does without pains, labour, or deduction, but at 
 first view, by its natural power of perception and dis- 
 tinction. And though men of art have reduced this 
 into those general rules, "3\ /T hat is, is ; " and, " It is 
 impossible for the same thing to be and not to be," for 
 ready application in all cases where in there may be 
 occasion to reflect on it; yet it is certain that the first 
 exercise of this faculty is about particular ideas. A 
 man infallibly knows, as soon as ever he has them in 
 his mind, that the ideas he calls " white " and " round " 
 are the very ideas they are, and that they are not other 
 ideas which he calls " red " or " square." Nor can any 
 maxim or proposition in the world make him know it 
 clearer or surer than he did before, and without any 
 such general rule. This, then, is the first agreement or 
 disagreement which the mind peceives in its ideas, 
 which it always perceives at first sight; and if there 
 ever happen any doubt about it, it will always be found 
 tobp about the names, and not the ideas themselves,
 
 OF KNOWLEDGE IN GENERAL. 269 
 
 whose identity and diversity will always be perceived 
 as soon and as clearly as the ideas themselves are, nor 
 can it possibly be otherwise. 
 
 5. Secondly, Relative. Secondly, The next sort of 
 agreement or disagreement the mind perceives in any 
 of its ideas may, I think, be called " relative," and is 
 nothing but the perception of the relation between any 
 two ideas, of what kind soever, whether substances, 
 modes, or any other. For, since all distinct ideas must 
 eternally be known not to be the same, and so be uni- 
 versally and constantly denied one of another; there 
 could be no room for any positive knowledge at all, if 
 we could not perceive any relation between our ideas, 
 and find out the agreement or disagreement they have 
 one with another, in several ways the mind takes of 
 comparing them. 
 
 6. Thirdly, Of co-existence. Thirdly, The third 
 sort of agreement or disagreement to be found in our 
 ideas, which the perception of the mind is employed 
 about, is co-existence, or non-^o-existence in the same 
 subject ; and this belongs particularly to substances. 
 Thus when we pronounce concerning " gold " that it is 
 fixed, our knowledge of this truth amounts to no more 
 but this, that fixedness, or a power to remain in the 
 fire unconsumed, is an idea that always accompanies 
 and is joined with that particular sort of yellowness, 
 weight, fusibility, malleableness and solubility in aqua 
 regia, which make our complex idea, signified by the 
 word " gold." 
 
 7. Fourthly, Of real existence. Fourthly, The 
 fourth and last sort is that of actual real existence 
 agreeing to any idea. Within these four sorts of agree- 
 ment or disagreement is, I suppose, contained all the 
 knowledge we have or are capable of; for, all the in-
 
 270 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 quiries that we can make concerning any of our ideas, 
 all that we know or can affirm concerning any of them, 
 is, that it is or is not the same with some other ; that it 
 does or does not always co-exist with some other idea 
 in the same subject; that it has this or that relation to 
 some other idea ; or that it has a .real existepce^w4thout 
 thejQiirid^ Thus, " Blue is not yellow," is of identity. 
 " Two triangles upon equal bases between two parallels 
 are equal," is of relation. " Iron is susceptible of mag- 
 netical impressions," is of co-existence. " God is," is 
 of real existence. Though identity and co-existence 
 are truly nothing but relations, yet they are so peculiar j 
 ways of agreement or disagreement of our ideas, that 
 they deserve well to be considered as distinct heads, 
 and not under relation in general ; since they are so - ^ 
 different grounds of affirmation and negation, as will ^ 
 easily appear to any one who will but reflect on what 
 is said in several places of this Essay. I should now 
 proceed to examine the several degrees of our knowl- 
 edge, but that it is necessary first to consider the differ- 
 ent acceptations of the word " knowledge." 
 
 8. Knowledge actual or habitual. There are sev- 
 eral ways wherein the mind is possessed of truth, each 
 of which is called " knowledge/ 
 
 First, There is "actual knowledge/' which is the 
 present view the mind has of the agreement or dis- 
 agreernent of any of its ideas, or of the relation they 
 . ha^e one to another. 
 
 Secondly, A man is said to know any proposition 
 which having been once laid before his thoughts, he 
 evidently perceived the agreement or disagreement of 
 the ideas whereof it consists ; and so lodged it in his 
 memory, that, whenever that proposition comes again 
 to be reflected on, he, without doubt or hesitation, em-
 
 OF KNOWLEDGE IN GENERAL. 271 
 
 braces the right side, assents to and is certain of the 
 truth of it. This, I think, one may call " habitual 
 knowledge ; " and thus a man may be said to know all 
 those truths which are lodged in his memory by a fore- 
 going clear and full perception, whereof the mind is 
 assured past doubt as often as it has occasion to reflect 
 on them. For, our finite understandings being able to 
 think clearly and distinctly but on one thing at once, 
 if men had no knowledge of any more than what they 
 actually thought on, they would all be very ignorant; 
 and he that knew most would know but one truth, that 
 being all he was able to think on at one time. 
 
 9. Habitual knoivledge tzvofold. Of habitual 
 knowledge there are also, vulgarly speaking, two de- 
 grees : 
 
 First, The one is of such truths laid up in the mem- 
 ory as, whenever they occur to the mind, it actually 
 perceives the relation is between those ideas. And this 
 is in all those truths whereof we have an intuitive 
 knowledge, where the ideas themselves, by an imme- 
 diate view, discover their agreement or disagreement 
 one with another. 
 
 Secondly, The other is of such truths, whereof the 
 mind having been convinced, it retains the memory of 
 the conviction without the proofs. Thus a man that 
 remembers certainly that he once perceived the demon- 
 stration that the three angles of a triangle are equal to 
 two right ones, is certain that he knows it, because he 
 cannot doubt the truth of it. In his adherence to a 
 truth where the demonstration by which it was at first 
 known is forgot, though a man may be thought rather 
 to believe his memory than really to know, and this 
 way of entertaining a truth seemed formerly to me like 
 something between opinion and knowledge, a sort of
 
 272 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 assurance which exceeds bare belief, for that relies on 
 the testimony of another ; yet, upon a due examination, 
 I find it comes not short of perfect certainty, and is, 
 in effect, true knowledge. That which is apt to mislead 
 our first thoughts into a mistake in this matter is, that 
 the agreement or disagreement of the ideas in this 
 case is not perceived, as it was at first, by an actual 
 view of all the intermediate ideas whereby the agree- 
 ment or disagreement of those in the proposition was 
 at first perceived ; but by other intermediate ideas, that 
 show the agreement or disagreement of the ideas con- 
 tained in the proposition whose certainty we remember. 
 For example : in this proposition, that " the three angles 
 of a triangle are equal to two right ones," one who has 
 seen and clearly perceived the demonstration of this 
 truth, knows it to be true, when that demonstration 
 has gone out of his mind, so that at present it is not 
 actually in view, and possibly cannot be recollected : 
 but he knows it in a different way from what he did 
 before. The agreement of the two ideas joined in that 
 proposition is perceived; but it is by the intervention 
 of other ideas than those which at first produced that 
 perception. He remembers, i. e., he knows (for re- 
 membrance is but the reviving of some past knowl- 
 edge) that he was once certain of the truth of this 
 proposition, that " the three angles of a triangle are 
 equal to two right ones." The, jmjputability jqf the 
 the^same immutable things is 
 
 now the idea that shows him,, that if .the three angles of 
 a triangle were once equal to two right ones, they will 
 always be equal to two right ones. And hence he 
 comes to be certain, that what was once true in the 
 case is always true ; what ideas once agreed \\ ill 
 always agree : and, consequently, what he once knew to
 
 OF KNOWLEDGE IN GENERAL. 273 
 
 know to.Jhe..true, as long as he 
 
 can xemember that he once knew it. Upon this ground 
 it is that particulaf~~demonstrations in mathematics 
 afford general knowledge. If, then^ the perception 
 4haX.^the same ideas will eternally have the same , /> 
 habitudes and relations be not a sufficient ground of 
 knowledge, there could be no knowledge of general ' ^J 
 propositions in mathematics; for no mathematical 
 demonstration would be any other than particular : and 
 when a man had demonstrated any proposition con- 
 cerning one triangle or circle, his knowledge would not 
 reach beyond that particular diagram. If he would 
 extend it farther, he must renew his demonstration in 
 another instance before he could know it to be true 
 in another like triangle, and so on : by which means one 
 could never come to the knowledge of any general 
 propositions. Nobody, I think, can deny that Mr. 
 Newton certainly knows any proposition that he now 
 at any time reads in his book to be true, though he has 
 not in actual view that admirable chain of intermediate 
 ideas whereby he at first discovered it to be true. Such 
 a memory as that, able to retain such a train of particu- 
 lars, may be well thought beyond the reach of human 
 faculties : when the very discovery, perception, and 
 laying together that wonderful connexion of ideas is 
 found to surpass most readers' comprehension. But 
 yet it is evident the author himself knows the proposi- 
 tion to be true, remembering he one saw the connexion 
 of those ideas, as certainly as he knows such a man 
 wounded another, remembering that he saw him run 
 him through. But because the memory is not always 
 so clear as actual perception, and does in all men more 
 or less decay in length of time, this, amongst other 
 differences, is one which shows that demonstrative
 
 274 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 _kno wl H gi^J.s_much .more imperfect than intuitive, as 
 we shall see in the following chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 OF THE DEGREES OF OUR KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 I. Intuitive. All our knowledge consisting, as I 
 have said, in the view the mind has of its own ideas, 
 which is the utmost light and greatest certainty we, 
 with our faculties and in our way of knowledge, are 
 capable of, it may not be amiss to consider a little the 
 degrees of its evidence. The different clearness of our 
 knowledge seems to me to lie in the different way of 
 perception the mind has of the agreement or disagree- 
 ment of any of its ideas. For if we will reflect on our 
 own ways of thinking, we will find that sometimes the 
 mind perceives the agreement or disagreement of two 
 ideas immediately by themselves, without the interven- 
 tion oT any other: andTthis, I think, we may call 
 " intuitive knowledge/* For in this the mind is at no 
 pains of proving or examining, but perceives the truth, 
 as the eye doth light, only by being directed towards 
 it. Thus the mind__p_erceiYes that yhite is not Jilack. 
 that a circle is notjL tn ' an g^ p , that three are more than 
 two, and equal to one and two. Such kind of truths 
 the mind perceives at the first sight of the ideas to- 
 gether, by bare intuition, without the .interYention of 
 any other ideaj and this kind of knowledge is the 
 clearest and most certain that human frailty is capable 
 of. This part of knowledge is irresistible, and, like 
 bright sunshine, forces itself immediately to be per- 
 ceived as soon as ever the mind turns its view that 
 way; and leaves no room for hesitation, doubt or ex-
 
 OF THE DEGREES OF OUR KNOWLEDGE. 275 
 
 animation, but the mind is presently filled with the 
 clear light of it. It is on this intuition that depends all 
 the certainty and evidence of all our knowledge, which 
 certainty every one finds to be so great, that he cannot 
 imagine, and therefore not require, a greater: for a 
 man cannot conceive himself capable of a greater cer- 
 tainty, than to know that any idea in his mind is such 
 as he perceives it to be ; and that two ideas, wherein he 
 perceives a difference, are different, and not precisely 
 the same. He that demands a greater certainty than 
 this demands he knows not what, and shows only that 
 he has a mind to be a sceptic without being able to be 
 so. Certainty depends so wholly on this intuition, that 
 in the next degree of knowledge, which I call " demon- 
 strative," this intuition is necessary in all the connexions 
 of the intermediate ideas, without which we cannot 
 attain knowledge and certainty. 
 
 2. Demonstrative. The next degree of knowledge 
 is, where the mind perceives the agreement or disagree- /> tf^flA^ 
 ment of any ideas, but not immediately. Though !>* 
 wherever the mind perceives the agreement or dis- /" 
 agreement of any of its ideas, there be certain knowl- / j ic < I/ 
 edge ; yet it does not always happen that the mind sees j^y^- 
 that agreement or disagreement which there is between \Jr 
 them, even where it is discoverable; and in that case Aj)JAf) 
 remains in ignorance, and at most gets no farther than 
 a probable conjecture. The reason why the mind can- 
 not always perceive presently the agreement or dis- 
 agreement of two ideas, is, because those ideas con- Lt&r 
 cerning whose agreement or disagreement the inquiry . 
 
 is made, cannot by the mind be so put together as to j? 
 show it. In this case then, when the mind cannot so 
 bring its ideas together as, by their immediate compari- 
 son and, as it were, juxtaposition or application one to
 
 276 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 another, to perceive their agreement or disagreement, 
 it is fain, by the intervention of other ideas (one or 
 more, as it happens), to_discove.rJ.he..agr.eemnLQr dis- 
 agreement which it search ps ; and this is that which we 
 call " reasoning." Thus the mind, being willing to 
 know the agreement or disagreement in bigness be- 
 tween the three angles of a triangle and two right ones, 
 cannot, by an immediate view and comparing them, do 
 it : because the three angles of a triangle cannot be 
 brought at once, and be compared with any one or tw r o 
 angles ; and so of this the mind has no immediate, no 
 intuitive knowledge. In this case the mind is fain to 
 find out some other angles, to which the three angles 
 of a triangle have an equality ; and finding those equal 
 to two right ones, comes to know their equality to two 
 right ones. 
 
 3. Depends on proofs. J^ nsp inte.rvpning- ideas 
 
 which serve to show the agreement of any two others, 
 are called " proofs ; " and where the agreement or dis- 
 agreement is by this means plainly and clearly per- 
 ceived, it is called " demonstration," it being shown to 
 the understanding, and the mind made to see that it is 
 so. A quickness in the mind to find out these inter- 
 mediate ideas (that shall discover the agreement or 
 disagreement of any other), and to apply them right, 
 is, I suppose, that which is called "sagacity." 
 
 4. But not so easy. This knowledge by interven- 
 ing proofs though it be certain, yet the evidence of it is 
 not altogether so clear and bright, nor the assent so 
 ready, as^in^utuitlv^knowledge. For though in dem- 
 onstration the mind does at last perceive the agreement 
 or disagreement of the ideas it considers, yet it is not 
 without pains and attention! there must be more than 
 one transient view to find it. A steady application and
 
 OF THE DEGREES OF OUR KNOWLEDGE. 277 
 
 pursuit are required to this discovery: and there must 
 be a progression by steps and degrees before the mind 
 can in this way arrive at certainty, and come to per- 
 ceive the agreement or repugnancy between two ideas 
 that need proofs and the use of reason to show it. 
 
 5. Not without precedent doubt. Another differ- 
 ence between intuitive and demonstrative knowledge, 
 is, that though in the latter all doubt be removed, when 
 by the intervention of the intermediate ideas the agree- 
 ment or disagreement is perceived; jret before the 
 demonstration there was a doubt; which in intuitive 
 knowledge cannot happen to the mind that has its 
 faculty of perception left to a degree capable of distinct 
 ideas, no more than it can be a doubt to the eye (that 
 can distinctly see white and black), whether this ink 
 and this paper be all of a colour. If there be sight in 
 the eyes, it will at first glimpse, without hesitation, per- 
 ceive the words printed on this paper, different from the 
 colour of the paper: aad--so, if the mind have the 
 faculty of distinct perception, it will perceive the agree- 
 ment or disagreement of those ideas that produce in- 
 tuitive knowledge. If the eyes have lost the faculty of 
 seeing, or the mind of perceiving, we in vain inquire 
 after the quickness of sight in one, or clearness of per- 
 ception in the other. 
 
 6. Not so clear. It is true, the perception pro- 
 duced by demonstration is also very clear ; yet it is 
 often with a greaLabaieaaeat of that evident lustre and 
 full assurance that always accompany that which I call 
 " intuitive ; " like a face reflected by several mirrors one 
 to another, where, as long as it retains the similitude 
 and agreement with the object, it produces a knowl- 
 edge ; but it is still in every successive reflection with a 
 
 'lessening; of that perfect clearness and distinctness
 
 278 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 which is in the first, till at last, after many removes, it 
 has a great mixture of dimness, nnd is nnf at first night 
 so knowable. especially to weak eyes. Thus it is with 
 knowledge made out by a long train of proof. 
 
 7. Each step must have intuitive evidence. Now, 
 in every step reason makes in demonstrative knowl- 
 edge, there is an intuitive knowledge of that agreement 
 or disagreement it seeks with the next intermediate 
 idea, which it uses as a proof: for if it were not so, 
 that yet would need a proof ; since without the percep- 
 tion of such agreement or disagreement there is no 
 knowledge produced. If it be perceived by itself, it is 
 intuitive knowledge : if it cannot be perceived by itself, 
 there is need of some intervening idea, as a common 
 measure, to show their agreement or disagreement. By 
 which it is plain, that every step in reasoning that pro- 
 duces knowledge has intuitive certainty; which when 
 the mind perceives, thexe_is_jiomore required but to 
 remember it, to make the agreement or disagreement 
 of the ideas, concerning which we inquire, visible and 
 certain. So that to make any thing a demonstration, it 
 is necessary to perceive the immediate agreement of the 
 intervening ideas, whereby the agreement or disagree- 
 ment of the two ideas under examination (whereof the 
 one is always the first, and the other the last in the 
 account) is found. This intuitive perception of the 
 agreement or disagreement of the intermediate ideas, 
 in each step and progression of the demonstration, must 
 also be carried exactly in the mind, and a man must be 
 sure that no part is left out : which, because in long de- 
 ductions, and the use of many proofs, the memory does 
 not always so readily and exactly retain ; therefore, it 
 comes to pass, that this is more imperfect than intuitive
 
 CX -* "~ j 
 
 OF THE DEGREES OF OUR KNOWLEDGE. 279 
 
 knowledge, and men embrace often falsehood for 
 demonstrations. 
 
 8. Hence the mistake, ex praecognitis et praecon- 
 cessis. The necessity of this intuitive knowledge, in 
 each step of scientifical or demonstrative reasoning, 
 gave occasion, I imagine, to that mistaken axiom, that 
 all reasoning was ex pracognitis et prceconcessis; 
 which, how far it is a mistake, I shall have occasion to 
 show more at large when I come to consider proposi- 
 tions, and particularly those propositions which are 
 called " maxims ; " and to show that it is by a mistake 
 that they are supposed to be the foundations of all our 
 knowledge and reasonings. 
 
 9. Demonstration not limited tq_quQtitUy^-[lt has 
 been generally taken for granted, that mathematics 
 alone are capable of demonstrative certainty: but to 
 have such an agreement or disagreement as may intui- 
 tively be perceived, being, as I imagine, not the privi- 
 lege of the ideas of number, extension, and figure 
 alone, it may possibly be the want of due method and 
 application in us, and not of sufficient evidence in 
 things, that demonstration has been thought to have so 
 little to do in other parts of knowledge, and been scarce 
 so much as aimed at by any but mathematicians.] For, 
 whatever ideas we have wherein the mind can perceive 
 the immediate agreement or disagreement that is be- 
 tween them, there the mind is capable of intuitive 
 knowledge ; and where it can perceive the agreement or 
 disagreement of any two ideas, by an intuitive percep- 
 tion of the agreement or disagreement they have with 
 any intermediate ideas, there the mind is capable of 
 demonstration, which is not limited to ideas of exten- 
 sion, figure, number, and their modes. 
 
 10. Why it has been so thought. The reason why
 
 280 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 it has been generally sought for and supposed to be 
 only in those, I imagine, has been not only the general 
 usefulness of those sciences, but because, in comparing 
 their equality or excess, the modes of numbers have 
 every the least difference very clear and perceivable: 
 and though in extension every the least excess is not 
 so perceptible, yet the mind has found out ways to 
 examine and discover demonstratively the just equality 
 of two angles, or extensions, or figures ; and both these, 
 *. e., numbers and figures, can be set down by visible 
 and lasting marks, wherein the ideas under considera- 
 tion are perfectly determined ; which for the most part 
 they are not, where they are marked only by names and 
 words. 
 
 ii. But in other simple ideas, whose modes and 
 differences are made and counted by degrees, and not 
 quantity, we have not so nice and accurate a distinction 
 of their differences as to perceive or find ways to meas- 
 ure their just equality or the least differences. For, 
 those other simple ideas being appearances of sensations 
 produced in us by the size, figure, number, and motion 
 of minute corpuscles singly insensible, their different 
 degrees also depend upon the variation of some or all 
 of those causes ; which, since it cannot be observed by 
 us in particles of matter whereof each is too subtile to 
 be perceived, it is impossible for us to have any exact 
 measures of the different degrees of these simple ideas. 
 For, supposing the sensation or idea we name " white- 
 ness," be produced in us by a certain number of 
 globules, which, having a verticity about their own 
 centres, strike upon the retina of the eye with a certain 
 degree of rotation, as well as progressive swiftness ; it 
 will hence easily follow, that the more the superficial 
 parts of any body are so ordered as to reflect the
 
 OF THE DEGREES OF OUR KNOWLEDGE. 281 
 
 greater number of globules of light, and to give them 
 the proper rotation which is fit to produce this sensa- 
 tion of white in us, the more white will that body ap- 
 pear that from an equal space sends to the retina the 
 greater number of such corpuscles with that peculiar 
 sort of motion. I do not say, that the nature of light 
 consists in very small round globules, nor of whiteness 
 in such a texture of parts as gives a certain rotation to 
 these globules when it reflects them ; for I am not now 
 treating physically of light or colours ; but this, I think, 
 I may say, that I cannot (and I would be glad any one 
 would make intelligible that he did) conceive how 
 bodies without us can any ways affect our senses, but 
 by the immediate contact of the sensible bodies them- 
 selves, as in tasting and feeling, or the impulse of some 
 sensible particles coming from them, as in seeing, 
 hearing, and smelling; by the different impulse of 
 which parts, caused by their different size, figure, and 
 motion, the variety of sensations is produced in us. 
 
 12. Whether then they be globules or no; or 
 whether they have a verticity about their own centres 
 that produces the idea of whiteness in us ; this is cer- 
 tain, that the more particles of light are reflected from 
 a body, fitted to give them that peculiar motion which 
 produces the sensation of whiteness in us, and possibly, 
 too, the quicker that peculiar motion is, the whiter does 
 the body appear from which the greatest number are 
 reflected, as is evident in the same piece of paper put 
 in the sunbeams, in the shade, and in a dark hole; in 
 each of which it will produce in us the idea of white- 
 ness in far different degrees. 
 
 13. Not knowing therefore what number of par- 
 ticles, nor what motion of them, is fit to produce any 
 precise degree of whiteness, we cannot demonstrate the
 
 282 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 certain equality of any two degrees of whiteness ; be- 
 cause we have no certain standard to measure them by, 
 nor means to distinguish every the least real difference ; 
 the only help we have being from our senses, which in 
 this point fail us. But where the difference is so great 
 as to produce in the mind clearly distinct ideas, whose 
 differences can be perfectly retained, there these ideas 
 of colours, as we see in different kinds, as blue and red, 
 are as capable of demonstration as ideas of number and 
 extension. What I have here said of whiteness and 
 colours, I think, holds true in all secondary qualities 
 and their modes. 
 
 14. Sensitive knowledge of particular existence. 
 These two, viz., intuition and demonstration, are the 
 degrees of our knowledge; whatever comes short of 
 one of these, with what assurance soever embraced, is 
 but faith or opinion, but not knowledge, at least in all 
 general truths. There is, indeed, another perception of 
 the mind employed about the particular existence of 
 finite beings without us ; which, going beyond bare 
 probability, and yet not reaching perfectly to either of 
 the foregoing degrees of certainty, passes under the 
 name of " knowledge." There can be nothing more 
 certain, than that the idea we receive from an external 
 object is in our minds ; this is intuitive knowledge. But 
 whether there be anything more than barely that idea 
 in our minds, whether we can thence certainly infer the 
 existence of anything without us which corresponds to 
 that idea, is that whereof some men think there may be 
 a question made ; because men may have such ideas in 
 their minds when no such thing exists, no such object 
 affects their senses. But yet here, I think, we are pro- 
 vided with an evidence that puts us past doubting ; for 
 I ask any one, whether he be not invincibly conscious
 
 OF THE DEGREES OF OUR KNOWLEDGE. 283 
 
 to himself of a different perception when he looks on 
 the sun by day, and thinks on it by night; when he 
 actually tastes wormwood, or smells a rose, or only 
 thinks on that savour or odour? We as plainly find 
 the difference there is between any idea revived in our 
 minds by our own memory, and actually coming into 
 our minds by our senses, as we do between any two 
 distinct ideas. If any one say, "A dream may do the 
 same thing, and all these ideas may be produced in us 
 without any external objects; " he may please to dream 
 that I make him this answer: (i.) That it is no great 
 matter whether I remove his scruple or no; where all 
 is but dream, reasoning and arguments are of no use, 
 truth and knowledge nothing. (2) That I believe he 
 will allow a very manifest difference between dreaming 
 of being in the fire, and being actually in it. But yet 
 if he be resolved to appear so sceptical as to maintain, 
 that what I call " being actually in the fire " is nothing 
 but a dream; and that we cannot thereby certainly 
 know that any such thing as fire actually exists without 
 us ; I answer, that we certainly finding that pleasure or 
 pain follows upon the application of certain objects to 
 us, whose existence we perceive, or dream that we per- 
 ceive, by our senses ; this certainty is as great as our 
 happiness or misery, beyond which we have no con- 
 cernment to know or to be. So that, I think, we may 
 add to the two former sorts of knowledge this also, of 
 the existence of particular external objects by that per- 
 ception and consciousness we have of the actual 
 entrance of ideas from them, and allow these three de- 
 grees of knowledge, viz., intuitive, demonstrative, and 
 sensitive : in each of which there are different degrees 
 and ways of evidence and certainty. 
 
 15. Knozvledge not always clear, where the ideas are
 
 284 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 so. But since our knowledge is founded on and env 
 ployed about our ideas only, will it not follow from 
 thence that it is conformable to our ideas; and that 
 where our ideas are clear and distinct, or obscure and 
 confused, our knowledge will be so too? To which I 
 answer, No : for our knowledge consisting in the per- 
 ception of the agreement or disagreement of any two 
 ideas, its clearness or obscurity consists in the clear- 
 ness or obscurity of that perception, and not in the 
 clearness or obscurity of the ideas themselves ; v. g., a 
 man that has as clear ideas of the angles of a triangle, 
 and of equality to two right ones, as any mathematician 
 in the world, may yet have but a very obscure percep- 
 tion of their agreement, and so have but a very obscure 
 knowledge of it. [But ideas which by reason of their 
 obscurity or otherwise are confused, cannot produce 
 any clear or distinct knowledge ; because as far as any 
 ideas are confused, so far the mind cannot perceive 
 clearly whether they agree or disagree. Or, to express 
 the same thing in a way less apt to be misunderstood, 
 he that hath not determined ideas to the words he 
 uses cannot make propositions of them, of whose truth 
 he can be certain.] 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 OF THE EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 I. KNOWLEDGE, as has been said, lying in the per- 
 ception of the agreement or disagreement of any of 
 our ideas, it follows from hence that, 
 
 First, No farther than we have ideas. First, We 
 can have knowledge no farther than we have ideas.
 
 OF THE EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 285 
 
 2. Secondly, No farther than we can perceive their 
 agreement or disagreement. Secondly, That we can 
 have no knowledge farther than we can have percep- 
 tion of that agreement or disagreement: which per- 
 ception being, (i.) Either by intuition, or the imme- 
 diate comparing any two ideas; or, (2.) By reason, 
 examining the agreement or disagreement of two ideas 
 by the intervention of some others; or, (3.) By sensa- 
 tion, perceiving the existence of particular things; 
 hence it also follows, 
 
 3. Thirdly, Intuitive knowledge extends itself not 
 to all the relations of all our ideas. Thirdly, that we 
 cannot have an intuitive knowledge that shall extend it- 
 self to all our ideas, and all that we would know about 
 them ; because we cannot examine and perceive all the 
 relations they have one to another by juxtaposition, or 
 an immediate comparison one with another. Thus 
 having the ideas of an obtuse and an acute-angled tri- 
 angle, both drawn from equal bases, and between 
 parallels, I can by intuitive knowledge perceive the one 
 not to be the other ; but cannot that way know whether 
 they be equal or no: because their agreement or dis- 
 agreement in equality can never be perceived by an 
 immediate comparing them; the difference of figure 
 makes their parts incapable of an exact immediate ap- 
 plication ; and therefore there is need of some inter- 
 vening qualities to measure them by, which is demon- 
 stration or rational knowledge. 
 
 4. Fourthly, Nor demonstrative knowledge. 
 Fourthly, It follows also, from what is above observed, 
 that our rational knowledge cannot reach to the whole 
 extent of our ideas: because between two different 
 ideas we would examine, we cannot always find such 
 mediums as we can connect one to another with an in-
 
 286 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 tuitive knowledge, in all the parts of the deduction; 
 and wherever that fails, we come short of knowledge 
 and demonstration. 
 
 5. Fifthly, Sensitive knowledge narrower than 
 either. Fifthly, Sensitive knowledge, reaching no 
 farther than the existence of things actually present to 
 our senses, is yet much narrower than either of the 
 former. 
 
 6. Sixthly, Our knowledge therefore narrower than 
 our ideas. From all which it is evident, that the ex- 
 tent of our knowledge comes not only short of the 
 reality of things, but even of the extent of our own 
 ideas. Though our knowledge be limited to our ideas, 
 and cannot exceed them either in extent or perfection : 
 and though these be very narrow bounds in respect of 
 the extent of all being, and far short of what we may 
 justly imagine to be in some even created understand- 
 ings not tied down to the dull and narrow information 
 that is to be received from some few and not very acute 
 ways of perception, such as are our senses ; yet it would 
 be well with us if our knowledge were but as large as 
 our ideas, and there were not many doubts and inquiries 
 concerning the ideas we have, whereof we are not, nor 
 I believe ever shall be in this world, resolved. Never- 
 theless, I do not question but that human knowledge, 
 under the present circumstances of our beings and con- 
 stitutions, may be carried much farther than it hitherto 
 has been, if men would sincerely, and with freedom of 
 mind, employ all that industry and labour of thought in 
 improving the means of discovering truth which they 
 do for the colouring or support of falsehood, to main- 
 tain a system, interest, or party they are once engaged 
 in. But yet, after all, I think I may, without injury to 
 human perfection, be confident that our knowledge
 
 OF THE EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 287 
 
 would never reach to all we might desire to know con- 
 cerning those ideas we have ; nor be able to surmount all 
 the difficulties, and resolve all the questions, that might 
 arise concerning any of them. We have the ideas of a 
 square, a circle, and equality: and yet, perhaps, shall 
 never be able to find a circle equal to a square, and cer- 
 tainly know that it is so. We have the ideas of matter 
 and thinking, but possibly shall never be able to know 
 whether [any mere material being] thinks or no; i be- 
 ing impossible for us, by the contemplation of our own 
 ideas without revelation, to discover whether Omnipo- 
 tency has not given to some systems of matter, fitly 
 disposed, a power to perceive and think, or else joined 
 and fixed to matter, so disposed, a thinking immaterial 
 substance : it being, in respect of our notions, not much 
 more remote from our comprehension to conceive that 
 God can, if he pleases, superadd to matter a faculty of 
 thinking, than that he should superadd to it another 
 substance with a faculty of thinking; since we know 
 not wherein thinking consists, nor to what sort of sub- 
 stances the Almighty has been pleased to give that 
 power which cannot be in any created being but merely 
 by the good pleasure and bounty of the Creator. For 
 [I see no contradiction in it, that the first eternal think- 
 ing Being, or Omnipotent Spirit, should, if he pleased, 
 give to certain systems of created senseless matter, put 
 together as he thinks fit, some degrees of sense, percep- 
 tion and thought : though, as I think I have proved (lib. 
 iv. chap. x. sec. 14, &c.), it is no less than a contradic- 
 tion to suppose matter (which is evidently in its own 
 nature void of sense and thought) should be that eternal 
 first thinking being. What certainty of knowledge can 
 any one have that some perception, such as v. g., pleas- 
 ure and pain, should not be in some bodies themselves],
 
 288 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 after a certain manner modified and moved, as well as 
 that they should be in an immaterial substance upon the 
 motion of the parts of body ? body, as far as we can con- 
 ceive, being able only to strike and affect body ; and mo- 
 tion, according to the utmost reach of our ideas, being 
 able to produce nothing but motion : so that when we al- 
 low it to produce pleasure or pain, or the idea of a colour 
 or sound, we are fain to quit our reason, go beyond our 
 ideas, and attribute it wholly to the good pleasure of our 
 Maker. For, since we must allow he has annexed 
 effects to motion, which we can no way conceive 
 motion able to produce, what reason have we to con- 
 clude that he could not order them as well to be pro- 
 duced in a subject we cannot conceive capable of them, 
 as well as in a subject we cannot conceive the motion 
 of matter can any way operate upon? I say not this 
 that I would any way lessen the belief of the soul's 
 immateriality: I am not here speaking of probability, 
 but knowledge: and I think, not only that it becomes 
 the modesty of philosophy not to pronounce magisteri- 
 ally, where we want that evidence that can produce 
 knowledge ; but also, that it is of use to us to discern 
 how far our knowledge does reach; for the state we 
 are at present in, not being that of vision, we must, in 
 many things, content ourselves with faith and proba- 
 bility : and in the present question about the immateri- 
 ality of the soul, if our faculties cannot arrive at 
 demonstrative certainty, we need not think it strange. 
 All the great ends of morality and religion are well 
 enough secured, without philosophical proofs of the 
 soul's immateriality; since it is evident that he who 
 made us at the beginning, to subsist here, sensible intel- 
 ligent beings, and for several years continued us in such 
 a state, can and will restore us to the like state of sensi-
 
 OF THE EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 289 
 
 bility in another world, and make us capable there to 
 receive the retribution he has designed to men accord- 
 ing to their doings in this life. [And therefore it is not 
 of such mighty necessity to determine one way or the 
 other, as some, over zealous for or against the imma- 
 teriality of the soul, have been forward to make the 
 world believe: who either, on the one side, indulging 
 too much their thoughts immersed altogether in matter, 
 can allow no existence to what is not material : or who, 
 on the other side, finding not cogitation within the 
 natural powers of matter, examined over and over 
 again by the utmost intension of mind, have the con- 
 fidence to conclude that Omnipotency itself cannot give 
 perception and thought to a substance which has the 
 modification of solidity. He that considers how hardly 
 sensation is, in our thoughts, reconcilable to extended 
 matter, or existence to anything that hath no extension 
 at all, will confess that he is very far from certainly 
 knowing what his soul is. It is a point which seems 
 to me to be put out of the reach of our knowledge : and 
 he who will give himself leave to consider freely, and 
 look into the dark and intricate part of each hypothesis, 
 will scarce find his reason able to determine him fixedly 
 for or against the soul's materiality; since on which 
 side soever he views it, either as an unextended sub- 
 stance, or as a thinking extended. matter, the difficulty 
 to conceive either will, whilst either alone is in his 
 thoughts, still drive him to the contrary side : an unfair 
 way which some men take with themselves; who, be- 
 cause of the unconceivableness of something they find 
 in one, throw themselves violently into the contrary 
 hypothesis, though altogether as unintelligible to an 
 unbiassed understanding. This serves not only to show 
 the weakness and the scantiness of our knowledge, but
 
 290 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 the insignificant triumph of such sort of arguments 
 which, drawn from our own views, may satisfy us that 
 we can find no certainty on one side of the question ; but 
 do not at all thereby help us to truth by running into the 
 opposite opinion, which on examination will be found 
 clogged with equal difficulties. For what safety, what 
 advantage to any one is it, for the avoiding the seem- 
 ing absurdities and, to him, insurmountable rubs he 
 meets with in one opinion to take refuge in the con- 
 trary, which is built on something altogether as inex- 
 plicable, and as far remote from his comprehension? 
 It is past controversy, that we have in us something 
 that thinks; our very doubts about what it is confirm 
 the certainty of its being, though we must content our- 
 selves in the ignorance of what kind of being it is : and 
 it is as vain to go about to be sceptical in this, as it is 
 unreasonable in most other cases to be positive against 
 the being of any thing, because we cannot comprehend 
 its nature. For I would fain know, what substance 
 exists that has not something in it which manifestly 
 baffles our understandings. Other spirits, who see and 
 know the nature and inward constitution of things, 
 how much must they exceed us in knowledge? To 
 which if we add larger comprehension, which enables 
 them at one glance to see the connexion and agreement 
 of very many ideas, and readily supplies to them the 
 intermediate proofs, which we, by single and slow 
 steps, and long poring in the dark, hardly at last find 
 out, and are often ready to forget one before we have 
 hunted out another, we may guess at some part of the 
 happiness of superior ranks of spirits, who have a 
 quicker and more penetrating sight, as well as a larger 
 field of knowledge.] But, to return to the argument in 
 hand : our knowledge, I say, is not only limited to the
 
 OF THE EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 291 
 
 paucity and imperfections of the ideas we have, and 
 which we employ it about, but even comes short of 
 that, too : but how far it reaches, let us now inquire. 
 
 7. How far our knowledge reaches. The affirma- 
 tions or negations we make concerning the ideas we 
 have, may, as I have before intimated in general, be 
 reduced to these four sorts, viz., identity, co-existence, 
 relation, and real existence. I shall examine how far 
 our knowledge extends in each of these : 
 
 8. First. Our knowledge of identity and diversity, 
 as far as our ideas. First, As to identity and diver- 
 sity, in this way of the agreement or disagreement 
 of ideas, our intuitive knowledge is as far extended as 
 our ideas themselves : and there can be no idea in the 
 mind which does not presently, by an intuitive knowl- 
 edge, perceive to be what it is, and to be different from 
 any other. 
 
 9. Secondly. Of co-existence, a very little way. 
 Secondly, As to the second sort, which is the agreement 
 or disagreement of our ideas in co-existence, in this 
 our knowledge is very short, though in this consists the 
 greatest and most material part of our knowledge con- 
 cerning substances. For our ideas of the species of 
 substances being, as I have showed, nothing but cer- 
 tain collections of simple ideas united in one sub- 
 ject, and so co-existing together; v. g., our idea of 
 " flame " is a body hot, luminous, and moving upward ; 
 of " gold," a body heavy to a certain degree, yellow, 
 malleable, and fusible. These, or some such complex 
 ideas as these in men's minds, do these two names 
 of the different substances, " flame " and " gold," stand 
 for. When we would know any thing farther concern- 
 ing these, or any other sort of substances, what do we 
 inquire but what other qualities or powers these sub-
 
 292 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 stances have or have not ? which is nothing else but to 
 know what other simple ideas do or do not co-exist with 
 those that make up that complex idea. 
 
 10. Because the connexion between most simple 
 ideas is unknown This, how weighty and consider- 
 able a part soever of human science, is yet very nar- 
 row, and scarce any at all. The reason whereof is, that 
 the simple ideas whereof our complex ideas of sub- 
 stances are made up are, for the most part, such as 
 carry with them, in their own nature, no visible nec- 
 essary connexion or inconsistency with any other sim- 
 ple ideas, whose co-existence with them we would in- 
 form ourselves about. 
 
 11. Especially of secondary qualities. The ideas 
 that our complex ones of substances are made up of. 
 and about which our knowledge concerning substances 
 is most employed, are those of their secondary quali- 
 ties; which depending all *(as has been shown) upon 
 the primary qualities of their minute and insensible 
 parts, or, if not upon them, upon something yet more 
 remote from our comprehension, it is impossible we 
 should know which have a necessary union or incon- 
 sistency one with another: for, not knowing the root 
 they spring from, not knowing what size, figure, and 
 texture of parts they are on which depend and from 
 which result those qualities which make our complex 
 idea of gold, it is impossible we should know what 
 other qualities result from or are incompatible with 
 the same constitution of the insensible parts of gold ; 
 and so, consequently, must always co-exist with that 
 complex idea we have of it, or else are inconsistent with 
 it. 
 
 12. Because all connexion between any secondary 
 and primary qualities is undiscoverable. Besides this
 
 OF THE EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 293 
 
 ignorance of the primary qualities of the insensible 
 parts of bodies, on which depend all their secondary 
 qualities, there is yet another and more incurable part 
 of ignorance, which sets us more remote from a certain 
 knowledge of the co-existence or in-co-existence (if 
 I may so say) of different ideas in the same subject; 
 and that is, that there is no discoverable connexion be- 
 tween any secondary quality and those primary quali- 
 ties that it depends on. 
 
 13. That the size, figure, and motion of one body 
 should cause a change in the size, figure, and motion 
 of another body, is not beyond our conception. The 
 separation of the parts of one body upon the intrusion 
 of another, and the change from rest to motion upon 
 impulse ; these, and the like, seem to have some con- 
 nexion one with another. And if we knew these 
 primary qualities of bodies, we might have reason to 
 hope we might be able to know a great deal more of 
 these operations of them one upon another: but our 
 minds not being able to discover any connexion betwixt 
 these primary qualities of bodies, and the sensations that 
 are produced in us by them, we can never be able to es- 
 tablish certain and undoubted rules of the consequence 
 or co-existence of any secondary qualities, though we 
 could discover the size, figure, or motion of those in- 
 visible parts which immediately produce them. We are 
 so far from knowing what figure, size, or motion of 
 parts produce a yellow colour, a sweet taste, or a sharp 
 sound, that we can by no means conceive how any size, 
 figure, or motion of any particles can possibly produce 
 in us the idea of any colour, taste, or sound whatsoever ; 
 there is no conceivable connexion between the one and 
 the other. 
 
 14. In vain therefore shall we endeavour to discover
 
 294 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 by our ideas (the only true way of certain and universal 
 knowledge) what other ideas are to be found con- 
 stantly joined with that of our complex idea of any 
 substance : since we neither know the real constitution 
 of the minute parts on which their qualities do depend ; 
 nor, did we know them, could we discover any neces- 
 sary connexion between them and any of the secondary 
 qualities ; which is necessary to be done before we can 
 certainly know their necessary co-existence. So that, 
 let our complex idea of any species of substances be 
 what it will, we can hardly, from the simple ideas con- 
 tained in it, certainly determine the necessary co-exist- 
 ence of any other quality whatsoever. Our knowledge 
 in all these inquiries reaches very little farther than our 
 experience. Indeed some few of the primary qualities 
 have a necessary dependence and visible connexion one 
 with another, as figure necessarily supposes extension, 
 receiving or communicating motion by impulse sup- 
 poses solidity. But though these and perhaps some 
 others of our ideas have, yet there are so few of them 
 that have, a visible connexion one with another, that we 
 can by intuition or demonstration discover the co- 
 existence of very few of the qualities are to be found 
 united in substances : and we are left only to the as- 
 sistance of our senses to make known to us what 
 qualities they contain. For, of all the qualities that 
 are co-existent in any subject, without this dependence 
 and evident connexion of their ideas one with another, 
 we cannot know certainly any two to co-exist any 
 farther than experience, by our senses, informs us. 
 Thus though we see the yellow colour, and upon trial 
 find the weight, malleableness, fusibility, and fixedness 
 that are united in a piece of gold ; yet, because no one 
 of these ideas has any evident dependence or neces-
 
 OF THE EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 295 
 
 sary connexion with the other, we cannot certainly 
 know that where any four of these are the fifth will 
 be there also, how highly probable soever it may be: 
 because the highest probability amounts not to certain- 
 ty; without which there can be no true knowledge. 
 For this co-existence can be no farther known than it 
 is perceived : and it cannot be perceived but either in 
 particular subjects by the observation of our senses, or 
 in general by the necessary connexion of the ideas 
 themselves. 
 
 15. Of repugnancy to co-existence, larger. As to 
 incompatibility or repugnancy to co-existence, we may 
 know that any subject may have of each sort of pri- 
 mary qualities but one particular at once ; v. g., each 
 particular extension, figure, number of parts, motion, 
 excludes all other of each kind. The like also is cer- 
 tain of all sensible ideas peculiar to each sense; for 
 whatever of each kind is present in any subject, ex- 
 cludes all other of that sort; -u. g., no one subject can 
 have two smells or two colours at the same time. To 
 this, perhaps, will be said, " Has not an opal or the 
 infusion of lignum nephriticum two colours at the same 
 time ? " To which I answer, that these bodies, to eyes 
 differently placed, may at the same time afford different 
 colours: but I take liberty also to say, that to eyes 
 differently placed it is different parts of the object that 
 reflect the particles of light: and therefore it is not 
 the same part of the object, and so not the very same 
 subject, which at the same time appears both yellow 
 and azure. For it is as impossible that the very same 
 particle of any body should at the same time differently 
 modify or reflect the rays of light, as that it should 
 have two different figures and textures at the same 
 time.
 
 296 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 1 6. Of the co-existence of powers, a very little way. 
 But as to the power of substances to change the 
 sensible qualities of other bodies, which makes a great 
 part of our inquiries about them, and is no inconsider- 
 able branch of our knowledge; I doubt, as to these, 
 whether our knowledge reaches much farther than our 
 experience ; or whether we can come to the discovery of 
 most of these powers, and be certain that they are in 
 any subject, by the connexion with any of those ideas 
 which to us make its essence. Because the active and 
 passive powers of bodies, and their ways of operating, 
 consisting in a texture and motion of parts which we 
 cannot by any means come to discover, it is but in very 
 few cases we can be able to perceive their dependence 
 on or repugnance to any of those ideas which make our 
 complex one of that sort of things. I have here in- 
 stanced in the corpuscularian hypothesis, as that which 
 is thought to go farthest in an intelligible explication 
 of those qualities of bodies ; and I fear the weakness 
 of human understanding is scarce able to substitute 
 another, which will afford us a fuller and clearer dis- 
 covery of the necessary connexion and co-existence of 
 the powers which are to be observed united in several 
 sorts of them. This at least is certain, that whichever 
 hypothesis be clearest and truest (for of that it is not 
 my business to determine), our knowledge concerning 
 corporeal substances will be very little advanced by any 
 of them, till we are made to see what qualities and 
 powers of bodies have a necessary connexion or re- 
 pugnancy one with another ; which, in the present state 
 of philosophy, I think, we know but to a very small 
 degree: and I doubt whether, with those faculties we 
 have, we shall ever be able to carry our general knowl- 
 edge (I say not particular experience) in this part
 
 OF THE EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 297 
 
 much farther. [Experience is that which in this part we 
 must depend on. And it were to be wished that it were 
 more improved. We find the advantages some men's 
 generous pains have this way brought to the stock of 
 natural knowledge. And if others, especially the phi- 
 losophers by fire, who pretend to it, had been so wary 
 in their observations and sincere in their reports as 
 those who call themselves philosophers ought to have 
 been, our acquaintance with the bodies here about us, 
 and our insight into their powers and operations, had 
 been yet much greater.] 
 
 17. Of spirits yet narrower. If we are at a loss 
 in respect of the powers and operations of bodies, I 
 think it is easy to conclude we are much more in the 
 dark in reference to spirits, whereof we naturally have 
 no ideas but what we draw from that of our own, by 
 reflecting on the operations of our own souls within us, 
 as far as they can come within our observation. But 
 how inconsiderable a rank the spirits that inhabit our 
 bodies hold amongst those various^ and possibly in- 
 numerable, kinds of nobler beings ; and how far short 
 they come of the endowments and perfections of cher- 
 ubims and seraphims, and infinite sorts of spirits above 
 us, is what by a transient hint, in another place, I have 
 offered to my reader's consideration. 
 
 1 8. Thirdly, Of other relations, it is not easy to say 
 how far. As to the third sort of our knowledge, viz., 
 the agreement or disagreement of any of our ideas in 
 any other relation : this, as it is the largest field of our 
 knowledge, so it is hard to determine how far it may 
 extend : because the advances that are made in this part 
 of knowledge depending on our sagacity in finding in- 
 termediate ideas that may show the relations and habi- 
 tudes of ideas, whose co-existence is not considered,
 
 298 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 it is a hard matter to tell when we are at an end of 
 such discoveries, and when reason has all the helps it is 
 capable of for the finding of proofs, or examining the 
 agreement or disagreement of remote ideas. They 
 that are ignorant of algebra, cannot imagine the won- 
 ders in this kind are to be done by it : and what farther 
 improvements and helps, advantageous to other parts 
 of knowledge, the sagacious mind of man may yet 
 find out, it is not easy to determine. This at least I 
 believe, that the ideas of quantity are not those alone 
 that are capable of demonstration and knowledge ; and 
 that other, and perhaps more useful, parts of contem- 
 plation would afford us certainty, if vices, passions, and 
 domineering interest did not oppose or menace such 
 endeavoufs. '* 
 
 * * * * 
 
 21. Fourthly, Of real existence. W e have an IN- 
 TUITIVE knowledge of our own, DEMONSTRATIVE of 
 God's, SENSITIVE of some few other things. As to 
 the fourth sort of our knowledge, viz., of the real exist- 
 ence of things, we have an intuitive knowledge of our 
 own existence ; and a demonstrative knowledge of the 
 existence of a God ; of the existence of any thing else, 
 we have no other but a sensitive knowledge, which 
 extends not beyond the objects present to our senses. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 OF THE REALITY OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 I. Objection. Knowledge placed in ideas may be 
 all bare vision. I doubt not but my reader by this time 
 may be apt to think that I have been all this while
 
 OF REALITY OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 299 
 
 only building a castle in the air ; and be ready to say 
 to me, " To what purpose all this stir? ' Knowledge,' 
 say you, ' is only the perception of the agreement or 
 disagreement of our own ideas ; ' but who knows what 
 those ideas may be ? Is there any thing so extravagant 
 as the imaginations of men's brains? Where is the 
 head that has no chimeras in it ? Or if there be a sober 
 and a wise man, what difference will there be, by your 
 rules, between his knowledge, and that of the most 
 extravagant fancy in the world ? They both have their 
 ideas, and perceive their agreement and disagreement 
 one with another. If there be any difference between 
 them, the advantage will be on the warm-headed man's 
 side, as having the more ideas, and the more lively. 
 And so, by your rules, he will be the more knowing. 
 If it be true, that all knowledge lies only in the percep- 
 tion of the agreement or disagreement of our own ideas, 
 the visions of an enthusiast, and the reasonings of a 
 sober man, will be equally certain. It is no matter 
 how things are: so a man observe but the agreement 
 of his own imaginations, and talk conformably, it is all 
 truth, all certainty. Such castles in the air will be as 
 strongholds of truth as the demonstrations of Euclid. 
 That an harpy is not a centaur, is by this way as 
 certain knowledge, and as much a truth, as that a 
 square is not a circle. 
 
 " But of what use is all this fine knowledge of men's 
 own imaginations to a man that inquires after the real- 
 ity of things? It matters not what men's fancies are, 
 it is the knowledge of things that is only to be prized : 
 it is this alone gives a value to our reasonings, and pref- 
 erence to one man's knowledge over another's, that 
 it is of things as they really are, and not of dreams and 
 fancies."
 
 300 CONCERNING PI U MAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 2. Answer. Not so where ideas agree with things. 
 To which I answer, That if our knowledge of our 
 ideas terminate in them, and reach no farther, where 
 there is something farther intended, our most serious 
 thoughts will be of little more use than the reveries of a 
 crazy brain; and the truths built thereon of no more 
 weight than the discourses of a man who sees things 
 clearly in a dream, and with great assurance utters 
 them. But I hope before I have done to make it evi- 
 dent that this way of certainty, by the knowledge of 
 our own ideas, goes a little farther than bare imagina- 
 tion ; and I believe it will appear, that all the certainty 
 of general truths a man has lies in nothing else. 
 
 3. It is evident the mind knows not things imme- 
 diately, but only by the intervention of the ideas it has 
 of them. Our knowledge therefore is real only so far 
 as there is a conformity between our ideas and the 
 reality of things. But what shall be here the criterion ? 
 How shall the mind, when it perceives nothing but its 
 own ideas, know that they agree with things them- 
 selves? This, though it seems not to want difficulty, 
 yet I think there be two sorts of ideas that we may be 
 assured agree with things. 
 
 4. As, First, all simple ideas do. First, The first 
 are simple ideas, which since the mind, as has been 
 showed, can by no means make to itself, must necessar- 
 ily be the product of things operating on the mind in 
 a natural way, and producing therein those perceptions 
 which by the wisdom and will of our Maker they are 
 ordained and adapted to. From whence it follows, that 
 simple ideas are not fictions of our fancies, but the nat- 
 ural and regular productions of things without us really 
 operating upon us ; and so carry with them all the con- 
 formity which is intended, or which our state requires ;
 
 OF REALITY OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 301 
 
 for they represent to us things under those appearances 
 which they are fitted to produce in us, whereby we are 
 enabled to distinguish the sorts of particular substances, 
 to discern the states they are in, and so to take them 
 for our necessities, and apply them to our uses. Thus 
 the idea of whiteness or bitterness, as it is in the mind, 
 exactly answering that power which is in any body 
 to produce it there, has all the real conformity it can 
 or ought to have with things without us. And this 
 conformity between our simple ideas and the existence 
 of things is sufficient for real knowledge. 
 
 5. Secondly, All complex ideas except of substances. 
 Secondly, All our complex ideas except those of 
 substances being archetypes of the mind's own making, 
 not intended to be the copies of any thing, nor referred 
 to the existence of any thing, as to their originals, can- 
 not want any conformity necessary to real knowledge. 
 For that which is not designed to represent any thing 
 but itself, can never be capable of a wrong represen- 
 tation, nor mislead us from the true apprehension of 
 any thing by its dislikeness to it ; and such, excepting 
 those of substances, are all our complex ideas : which, 
 as I have showed in another place, are combinations of 
 ideas which the mind by its free choice puts together 
 without considering any connexion they have in nature. 
 And hence it is, that in all these sorts the ideas them- 
 selves are considered as the archetypes, and things no 
 otherwise regarded but as they are conformable to 
 them. So that we cannot but be infallibly certain, 
 that all the knowledge we attain concerning these ideas 
 is real, and reaches things themselves ; because in all 
 our thoughts, reasonings, and discourses of this kind, 
 we intend things no farther than as they are conform-
 
 302 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 able to our ideas. So that in these we cannot miss of 
 a certain and undoubted reality. 
 
 6. Hence the reality of mathematical knowledge. 
 I doubt not but it will be easily granted that the knowl- 
 edge we have of mathematical truths, is not only certain 
 but real knowledge; and not the bare empty vision of 
 vain, insignificant chimeras of the brain; and yet, if 
 we will consider, we shall find that it is only of our own 
 ideas. The mathematician considers the truth and 
 properties belonging to a rectangle or circle, only as 
 they are in idea in his own mind. For it is possible 
 he never found either of them existing mathematically, 
 i. e., precisely true, in his life. But yet the knowledge 
 he has of any truths or properties belonging to a circle, 
 or any other mathematical figure, are never the less true 
 and certain even of real things existing; because real 
 things are no farther concerned, nor intended to be 
 meant by any such propositions, than as things really 
 agree to those archetypes in his mind. Is it true of the 
 idea of a triangle, that its three angles are equal to two 
 right ones? It is true also of a triangle wherever it 
 really exists. Whatever other figure exists, that it is not 
 exactly answerable to that idea of a triangle in his mind, 
 is not at all concerned in that proposition. And there- 
 fore he is certain all his knowledge concerning such 
 ideas is real knowledge: because, intending things no 
 farther than they agree with those his ideas, he is sure 
 what he knows concerning those figures when they have 
 barely an ideal existence in his mind, will hold true of 
 them also when they have a real existence in matter; 
 his consideration being barely of those figures, which 
 are the same wherever or however they exist. 
 
 7. And of moral. And hence it follows that moral 
 knowledge is as capable of real certainty as mathema-
 
 OF REALITY OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 303 
 
 tics. For, certainty being but the perception of the 
 agreement or disagreement of our ideas, and demon- 
 stration nothing but the perception of such agreement 
 by the intervention of other ideas or mediums, our 
 moral ideas as well as mathematical being archetypes 
 themselves, and so adequate and complete ideas, all the 
 agreement or disagreement which we shall find in them 
 will produce real knowledge, as well as in mathematical 
 figures. 
 
 8. Existence not required to make it real. [For the 
 attaining of knowledge and certainty, it is requisite 
 that we have determined ideas:] and to make our 
 knowledge real, it is requisite that the ideas answer 
 their archetypes. Nor let it be wondered that I place the 
 certainty of our knowledge in the consideration of our 
 ideas with so little care and regard (as it may seem) 
 to the real existence of things : since most of those dis- 
 courses which take up the thoughts and engage the 
 disputes of those who pretend to make it their business 
 to inquire after truth and certainty, will, I presume, 
 upon examination, be found to be general propositions 
 and notions in which existence is not at all concerned. 
 All the discourses of the mathematicians about the 
 squaring of a circle, conic sections, or any other part of 
 mathematics, concern not the existence of any of those 
 figures : but their demonstrations, which depend on 
 their ideas, are the same, whether there be any square 
 or circle existing in the world, or no. In the same 
 manner, the truth and certainty of moral discourses 
 abstracts from the lives of men, and the existence of 
 those virtues in the world whereof they treat : nor are 
 Tully's Offices less true because there is nobody in the 
 world that exactly practises his rules, and lives up to 
 that pattern of a virtuous man which he has given us,
 
 304 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 and which existed nowhere when he writ but in idea. 
 If it be true in speculation, i. e., in idea, that murder 
 deserves death, it will also be true in reality of any 
 action that exists conformable to that idea of murder. 
 As for other actions, the truth of that proposition con- 
 cerns them not. And thus it is of all other species of 
 things which have no other essences but those ideas 
 which are in the minds of men. 
 
 9. Nor will it be less true or certain because moral 
 ideas are of our own making and naming. But it will 
 here be said, that " if moral knowledge be placed in 
 the contemplation of our own moral ideas, and those, 
 as other modes, be of our own making, what strange 
 notions will there be of justice and temperance ! What 
 confusion of virtues and vices, if every one may make 
 what ideas of them he pleases ! " No confusion nor 
 disorder in the things themselves, nor the reasonings 
 about them; no more than (in mathematics) there 
 would be a disturbance in the demonstration, or a 
 change in the properties of figures and their relations 
 one to another, if a man should make a triangle with 
 four corners, or a trapezium with four right angles: 
 that is, in plain English, change the names of the fig- 
 ures, and call that by one name which mathematicians 
 called ordinarily by another. For, let a man make to 
 himself the idea of a figure with three angles, whereof 
 one is a right one, and call it, if he please, equilaterum 
 or trapezium, or any thing else, the properties of and 
 demonstrations about that idea will be the same as if 
 he called it a " rectangular triangle." I confess, the 
 change of the name by the impropriety of speech will 
 at first disturb him who knows not what idea it stands 
 for : but as soon as the figure is drawn, the consequences 
 and demonstrations are plain and clear. Just the same
 
 OF REALITY OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 305 
 
 is it in moral knowledge; let a man have the idea of 
 taking from others, without their consent, what their 
 honest industry has possessed them of, and call this 
 " justice," if he please. He that takes the name here 
 without the idea put to it, will be mistaken by joining 
 another idea of his own to that name : but strip the idea 
 of that name, or take it such as it is in the speaker's 
 mind, and the same things will agree to it as if you 
 called it " injustice." Indeed, wrong names in moral 
 discourses breed usually more disorder, because they 
 are not so easily rectified as in mathematics, where the 
 figure once drawn and seen makes the name useless 
 and of no force. For what need of a sign when the 
 thing signified is present and in view? But in moral 
 names that cannot be so easily and shortly done, because 
 of the many decompositions that go to the making up 
 the complex ideas of those modes. But yet, for all this, 
 the miscalling of any of those ideas contrary to the usual 
 signification of the words of that language, hinders 
 not but that we may have certain and demonstrative 
 knowledge of their several agreements and disagree- 
 ments, if we will carefully, as in mathematics, keep to 
 the same precise ideas, and trace them in their several 
 relations one to another without being led away by 
 their names. If we but separate the idea under con- 
 sideration from the sign that stands for it, our knowl- 
 edge goes equally on in the discovery of real truth and 
 certainty, whatever sounds we make use of. 
 
 10. Misnaming disturbs not the certainty of the 
 knowledge. One thing more we are to take notice of, 
 that where God, or any other law-maker, hath defined 
 any moral names, there they have made the essence 
 of that species to which that name belongs : and there 
 it is not safe to apply or use them otherwise: but in
 
 306 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 other cases it is bare impropriety of speech to apply 
 them contrary to the common usage of the country. 
 But yet even this too disturbs not the certainty of that 
 knowledge, which is still to be had by a due contem- 
 plation and comparing of those even nick-named ideas. 
 
 11. Ideas of substances have their archetypes with- 
 out us. Thirdly, There is another sort of complex 
 ideas, which being referred to archetypes without us 
 may differ from them, and so our knowledge about 
 them may come short of being real. Such are our 
 ideas of substances, which consisting of a collection 
 of simple ideas, supposed taken from the works of 
 nature, may yet vary from them, by having more or 
 different ideas united in them than are to be found 
 united in the things themselves : from whence it comes 
 to pass, that they may and often do fail of being exactly 
 conformable to things themselves. 
 
 12. So far as they agree with those, so far our 
 knowledge concerning them is real. I say, then, that 
 to have ideas of substances which, by being conform- 
 able to things, may afford us real knowledge, it is not 
 enough, as in modes, to put together such ideas as 
 have no inconsistence, though they did never before 
 so exist; v. g., the ideas of sacrilege or perjury, &c., 
 were as real and true ideas before as after the exist- 
 ence of any such fact. But our ideas of substances, 
 being supposed copies, and referred to archetypes with- 
 out us, must still be taken from something that does 
 or has existed ; they must not consist of ideas put to- 
 gether at the pleasure of our thoughts without any real 
 pattern they were taken from, though we can perceive 
 no inconsistence in such a combination. The reason 
 whereof is, because we knowing not what real consti- 
 tution it is of substances w r hereon our simple ideas de-
 
 OF REALITY OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 307 
 
 pend, and which really is the cause of the strict union 
 of some of them one with another, and the exclusion 
 of others ; there are very few of them that we can be 
 sure are or are not inconsistent in nature, any farther 
 than experience and sensible observation reach. Here- 
 in therefore is founded the reality of our knowledge 
 concerning substances, that all our complex ideas of 
 them must be such, and such only, as are made up of 
 such simple ones as have been discovered to co-exist 
 in nature. And our ideas, being thus true, though not 
 perhaps very exact copies, are yet the subjects of real 
 (as far as we have any) knowledge of them: which, 
 as has been already showed, will not be found to reach 
 very far; but so far as it does, it will still be real 
 knowledge. Whatever ideas we have, the agreement 
 we find they have with others will still be knowledge. 
 If those ideas be abstract, it will be general knowledge. 
 But to make it real concerning substances, the ideas 
 must be taken from the real existence of things. What- 
 ever simple ideas have been found to co-exist in any 
 substance, these we may with confidence join together 
 again, and so make abstract ideas of substances. For 
 whatever have once had an union in nature, may be 
 united again. 
 
 13. In our inquiries about substances we must con- 
 sider ideas, and not confine our thoughts to names or 
 species supposed set out by names. This if we rightly 
 consider, and confine not our thoughts and abstract 
 ideas to names, as if there were or could be no other 
 sorts of things than what known names had already 
 determined, and, as it were set out, we should think 
 of things with greater freedom and less confusion than 
 perhaps we do. It would possibly be thought a bold 
 paradox, if not a very dangerous falsehood, if I should
 
 308 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 say, that some changelings who have lived forty years 
 together without any appearance of reason, are some- 
 thing between a man and a beast: which prejudice is 
 founded upon nothing else but a false supposition, that 
 these two names, " man " and " beast," stand for dis- 
 tinct species so set out by real essences, that there can 
 come no other species between them; whereas if we 
 will abstract from those names, and the supposition of 
 such specific essences made by nature, wherein all 
 things of the same denominations did exactly and equal- 
 ly partake; if we would not fancy that there were a 
 certain number of these essences wherein all things, as 
 in moulds, were cast and formed ; we should find that 
 the idea of the shape, motion, and life of a man without 
 reason is as much a distinct idea, and makes as much 
 a distinct sort of things from man and beast, as the 
 idea of the shape of an ass with reason would be differ- 
 ent, from either that of man or beast and be a species of 
 an animal between or distinct from both. 
 
 14. Objection against a changeling being something 
 between a man and a beast, answered. Here every 
 body will be ready to ask, " If changelings may be 
 supposed something between man and beast, pray what 
 are they ? " I answer, " Changelings," which is as 
 good a word to signify something different from the 
 signification of " man " or " beast," as the names 
 " man " and " beast " are to have significations differ- 
 ent one from the other. This, well considered, would 
 resolve this matter, and show my meaning without any 
 more ado. But I am not so unacquainted with the 
 zeal of some men, which enables them to spin conse- 
 quences, and to see religion threatened whenever any 
 one ventures to quit their forms of speaking, as not 
 to foresee what names such a proposition as this is
 
 OF REALITY OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 309 
 
 like to be charged with: and without doubt it will be 
 asked, "If changelings are something between man 
 and beast, what will become of them in the other 
 world ? " To which I answer, First, It concerns me 
 not to know or inquire. To their own Master they 
 stand or fall. It will make their state neither better nor 
 worse, whether we determine any thing of it or no. 
 They are in the hands of a faithful Creator and a boun- 
 tiful Father, who disposes not of his creatures accord- 
 ing to our narrow thoughts or opinions, nor distin- 
 guishes them according to names and species of our 
 contrivance. And we that know so little of this present 
 world we are in, may I think, content ourselves without 
 being peremptory in defining the different states which 
 creatures shall come into when they go off this stage. 
 It may suffice us that He hath made known to all those 
 who are capable of instruction, discourse, and reason- 
 ing, that they shall come to an account, and receive 
 according to what they have done in this body. 
 
 15. But, Secondly, I answer, The force of these 
 men's question (viz., " Will you deprive changelings 
 of a future state? ") is founded on one of two suppo- 
 sitions, which are both false. The first is, that all 
 things that have the outward shape and appearance of 
 a man must necessarily be designed to an immortal fu- 
 ture being after this life. Or, secondly, that whatever 
 is of human birth must be so. Take away these imag- 
 inations, and such questions will be groundless and ri- 
 diculous. I desire, then, those who think there is no 
 more but an accidental difference between themselves 
 and changelings, the essence in both being exactly the 
 same, to consider whether they can imagine immor- 
 tality annexed to any outward shape of the body; the 
 very proposing it is, I suppose, enough to make them
 
 310 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 disown it. No one yet that ever I heard of, how much 
 soever immersed in matter, allowed that excellency to 
 any figure of the gross sensible outward parts, as to 
 affirm eternal life due to it, or a necessary consequence 
 of it ; or that any mass of matter should, after its dis- 
 solution here, be again restored hereafter to an ever- 
 lasting state of sense, perception, and knowledge, only 
 because it was moulded into this or that figure, and had 
 such a particular frame of its visible parts. Such an 
 opinion as this, placing immortality in a certain super- 
 ficial figure, turns out of doors all consideration of 
 soul or spirit ; upon whose account alone some corpor- 
 eal beings have hitherto been concluded immortal, 
 and others not. This is to attribute more to the out- 
 side than inside of things ; to place the excellency of 
 a man more in the external shape of his, body than in- 
 ternal perfections of his soul : which is but little better 
 than to annex the great and inestimable advantage of 
 immortality and life everlasting, which he has above 
 other material beings, to annex it, I say, to the cut of 
 his beard, or the fashion of his coat. For, this or that 
 outward mark of our bodies no more carries with it the 
 hopes of an eternal duration, than the fashion of a 
 man's suit gives him reasonable grounds to imagine 
 it will never wear out, or that it will make him immor- 
 tal. It will perhaps be said, that nobody thinks that the 
 shape makes any thing immortal, but it is the shape is 
 the sign of a rational soul within, which is immortal. 
 I wonder who made it the sign of any such thing: for 
 barely saying it will not make it so. It would require 
 some proofs to persuade one of it. No figure that I 
 know speaks any such language. For it may as ra- 
 tionally be concluded, that the dead body of a man, 
 wherein there is to be found no more appearance or
 
 OF REALITY OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 311 
 
 action of life than there is in a statue, has yet never- 
 theless a living soul in it, because of its shape ; as that 
 there is a rational soul in a changeling, because he has 
 the outside of a rational creature, when his actions 
 carry far less marks of reason with them in the whole 
 course of his life than what are to be found in many a 
 beast. 
 
 1 6. Monsters. " But it is the issue of rational par- 
 ents, and must therefore be concluded to have a rational 
 soul." I know not by what logic you must so con- 
 clude. I am sure this is a conclusion that men no 
 where allow of. For, if they did, they would not make 
 bold, as every where they do, to destroy ill-formed and 
 mis-shaped productions. " Ay, but these are mon- 
 sters." Let them be so ; what will your drivelling, un- 
 intelligent, intractable changeling be? Shall a defect 
 in the body make a monster ; a defect in the mind (the 
 far more noble and in the common phrase, the far more 
 essential part) not? Shall the want of a nose or a 
 neck make a monster, and put such issue out of the 
 rank of men; the want of reason and understanding 
 not ? This is to bring all back again to what was ex- 
 ploded just now : this is to place all in the shape, and to 
 take the measure of a man only by his outside. To 
 show that, according to the ordinary way of reasoning 
 in this matter, people do lay the whole stress on the 
 figure, and resolve the whole essence of the species of 
 man (as they make it) into the outward shape, how 
 unreasonable soever it be, and how much soever they 
 disown it, we need but trace their thoughts and prac- 
 tice a little farther, and then it will plainly appear. 
 The well-shaped changeling is a man, has a rational 
 soul, though it appear not : " This is past doubt," say 
 you. Make the ears a little longer and more pointed,
 
 3 i2 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 
 
 and the nose a little flatter, than ordinary, and then you 
 begin to boggle: make the face yet narrower, flatter, 
 and longer, and then you are at a stand : add still more 
 and more of the likeness of a brute to it, and let the 
 head be perfectly that of some other animal, then pres- 
 ently it is a monster ; and it is demonstration with you 
 that it hath no rational soul, and must be destroyed. 
 Where now, I ask, shall be the just measure of the 
 utmost bounds of that shape that carries with it a ra- 
 tional soul ? For, since there have been human foetuses 
 produced, half beast and half man ; and others three 
 parts one, and one part the other ; and so it is possible 
 they may be in all the variety of approaches to the one 
 or the other shape, and may have several degrees of 
 mixture of the likeness of a man or a brute ; I would 
 gladly know what are those precise lineaments which, 
 according to this hypothesis, are or are not capable 
 of a rational soul to be joined to them? What sort of 
 outside is the certain sign that there is or is not such an 
 inhabitant within? For, till that be done, we talk at 
 random of man ; and shall always, I fear, do so as long 
 as we give ourselves up to certain sounds, and the 
 imaginations of settled and fixed species in nature, we 
 know not what. But, after all, I desire it may be con- 
 sidered that those who think they have answered the 
 difficulty by telling us that a mis-shaped foetus is a mon- 
 ster, run into the same fault they are arguing against, 
 by constituting a species between man and beast. For 
 what else, I pray, is their monster in the case (if the 
 word " monster " signifies any thing at all), but some- 
 thing neither man nor beast, but partaking somewhat 
 of either? And just so is the changeling before men- 
 tioned. So necessary is it to quit the common notion 
 of species and essences, if we will truly look into the
 
 OF REALITY OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 3*3 
 
 nature of things, and examine them by what our facul- 
 ties can discover in them as they exist, and not by 
 groundless fancies that have been taken up about them. 
 
 17. Words and species. I have mentioned this 
 here, because I think we cannot be too cautious that 
 words and species, in the ordinary notions which we 
 have been used to of them, impose not on us. For, I 
 am apt to think, therein lies one great obstacle to our 
 clear and distinct knowledge, especially in reference to 
 substances ; and from thence has rose a great part of the 
 difficulties about truth and certainty. Would we ac- 
 custom ourselves to separate our contemplations and 
 reasonings from words, we might, in a great measure, 
 remedy this inconvenience within our own thoughts : 
 but yet it would still disturb us in our discourse with 
 others, as long as we retain the opinion, that species 
 and their essences were any thing else but our abstract 
 ideas, (such as they are,) with names annexed to them 
 to be the signs of them. 
 
 1 8. Recapitulation, Wherever we perceive the 
 agreement or disagreement of any of our ideas, there 
 is certain knowledge: and wherever we are sure those 
 ideas agree with the reality of things, there is certain 
 real knowledge. Of which agreement of our ideas with 
 the reality of things having here given the marks, I 
 think I have shown wherein it is that certainty, real 
 certainty, consists. Which, whatever it was to others, 
 was, I confess, to me heretofore one of those desiderata 
 which I found great want of.
 
 f 14 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 OF OUP THREEFOLD KNOWLEDGE OF EXISTENCE. 
 
 1. General certain propositions concern not exist- 
 ence. Hitherto we have only considered the essences 
 of things, which, being only abstract ideas, and thereby 
 removed in our thoughts from particular existence, 
 (that being the proper operation of the mind in ab- 
 straction, to consider an idea under no other existence 
 but what it has in the understanding,) gives us no 
 knowledge of real existence at all. Where, by the way, 
 we may take notice, that universal propositions, of 
 whose truth or falsehood we can have certain knowl- 
 edge, concern not existence; and farther, that all par- 
 ticular affirmations or negations that would not be 
 certain if they were made general, are only concerning 
 existence; they declaring only the accidental union or 
 separation of ideas in things existing, which in their 
 abstract natures have no known necessary union or 
 repugnancy. 
 
 2. A threefold knowledge of existence. But leav- 
 ing the nature of propositions, and different ways of 
 predication, to be considered more at large in another 
 place, let us proceed now to inquire concerning our 
 knowledge of the existence of things, and how we 
 come by it. I say then, that we have the knowledge 
 of our own existence by intuition ; of the existence of 
 God by demonstration; and of other things by sensa- 
 tion. 
 
 3. Our knoivledge of our otvn existence is intuitive. 
 As for our own existence, we perceive it so plainly 
 and so certainly that it neither needs nor is capable 
 of any proof. For nothing can be more evident to us
 
 OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF EXISTENCE. 315 
 
 than our own existence. I think, I reason, I feel 
 pleasure and pain : can any of these be more evident to 
 me than my own existence? If I doubt of all other 
 things, that very doubt makes me perceive my own 
 existence, and will not suffer me to doubt of that. For, 
 if I know I feel pain, it is evident I have as certain 
 perception of my own existence, as of the existence of 
 the pain I feel : or if I know I doubt, I have as certain 
 perception of the existence of the thing doubting, as 
 of that thought which I call " doubt." Experience, 
 then, convinces us that we have an intuitive knowledge 
 of our own existence, and an internal infallible per- 
 ception that we are. In every act of sensation, reason- 
 ing, or thinking, we are conscious to ourselves of our 
 own being; and, in this matter, come not short of the 
 highest degree of certainty. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF THE EXISTENCE OF A GOD. 
 
 i. We are capable of knowing certainly that there 
 is a God. Though God has given us no innate ideas of 
 himself ; though he has stamped no original characters 
 on our minds, wherein we may read his being ; yet, hav- 
 ing furnished us with those faculties our minds are 
 endowed with, he hath not left himself without wit- 
 ness ; since we have sense, perception, and reason, and 
 cannot want a clear proof of him as long as we carry 
 ourselves about us. Nor can we justly complain of our 
 ignorance in this great point, since he has so plenti- 
 fully provided us with the means to discover and know 
 him, so far as is necessary to the end of our being, 
 and the great concernment of our happiness. But
 
 316 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 though this be the most obvious truth that reason dis- 
 covers, and though its evidence be (if I mistake not) 
 equal to mathematical certainty ; yet it requires thought 
 and attention, and the mind must apply itself to a 
 regular deduction of it from some part of our intuitive 
 knowledge, or else we shall be as uncertain and igno- 
 rant of this as of other propositions which are in them- 
 selves capable of clear demonstration. To show, 
 therefore, that we are capable of knowing, i. e., being 
 certain, that there is a God, and how we may come by 
 this certainty, I think we need go no farther than our- 
 selves, and that undoubted knowledge we have of our 
 own existence. 
 
 2. Man knows that he himself is. I think it is 
 beyond question, that man has a clear idea of his 
 own being ; he knows certainly that he exists, and that 
 he is something. He that can doubt whether he be 
 any thing or no, I speak not to ; no more than I would 
 argue with pure nothing, or endeavour to convince 
 nonentity that it were something. If any one pretends 
 to be so sceptical as to deny his own existence (for 
 really to doubt of it is manifestly impossible), let him, 
 for me, enjoy his beloved happiness of being nothing, 
 until hunger or some other pain convince him of the 
 contrary. This, then, I think I may take for a truth, 
 which every one's certain knowledge assures him of 
 beyond the liberty of doubting, viz., that he is some- 
 thing that actually exists. 
 
 3. He knows also that nothing cannot produce a 
 being, therefore something eternal. In the next place, 
 man knows by an intuitive certainty that bare nothing 
 can no more produce any real being, than it can be 
 equal to two right angles. If a man knows not that 
 nonentity, or the absence of all being, cannot be equal
 
 OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF A GOD. 31? 
 
 to two right angles, it is impossible he should know 
 any demonstration in Euclid. If therefore we know 
 there is some real being, and that nonentity cannot 
 produce any real being, i is an evident demonstration, 
 that from eternity there has been something; since 
 what was not from eternity had a beginning ; and what 
 had a beginning must be produced by something else. 
 
 4. That Eternal Being must be most powerful. 
 Next, it is evident, that what had its being and begin- 
 ning from another, must also, have all that which is 
 in and belongs to its being from another too. All the 
 powers it has, must be owing to and received from the 
 same source. This eternal source, then, of all being, 
 must also be the source and original of all power ; and 
 so this Eternal Being must be also the most powerful. 
 
 5. And most knowing. Again: a man finds in 
 himself perception and knowledge. We have-then got 
 one step farther ; and we are certain now that there is 
 not only some being, but some knowing, intelligent 
 being in the world. 
 
 There was a time, then, when there was no knowing 
 being, and when knowledge began to be ; or else there 
 has been also a knowing Being from eternity. If it be 
 said, " There was a time when no being had any knowl- 
 edge, when that Eternal Being was void of all under- 
 standing ; " I reply, that then it was impossible there 
 should ever have been any knowledge ; it being as im- 
 possible that things wholly void of knowledge, and 
 operating blindly and without any perception, should 
 produce a knowing being, as it is impossible that a tri- 
 angle should make itself three angles bigger than two 
 right ones. For.it is as repugnant to the idea of sense- 
 less matter that it should put into itself sense, percep- 
 tion, and knowledge, as it is repugnant to the idea of a
 
 318 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 triangle that it should put into itself greater angles 
 than two right ones. 
 
 6. And therefore God. Thus from the considera- 
 tion of ourselves, and what we infallibly find in our 
 own constitutions, our reason leads us to the knowl- 
 edge of this certain and evident truth, that there is an 
 eternal, most powerful, and most knowing Being; 
 which whether any one will please to call " God," it 
 matters not. The thing is evident ; and from this 
 idea duly considered, will easily be deduced all those 
 other attributes which we ought to ascribe to this 
 Eternal being. [If, nevertheless, any one should be 
 found so senselessly arrogant as to suppose man alone 
 knowing and wise, but yet the product of mere ig- 
 norance and chance; and that all the rest of the uni- 
 verse acted only by that blind hap-hazard ; I shall leave 
 with him that very rational and emphatical rebuke of 
 Tully, lib. ii. De Leg., to be considered at his leisure : 
 " What can be more sillily arrogant and misbecoming 
 than for a man to think that he has a mind and under- 
 standing in him, but yet in all the universe beside there 
 is no such thing? or that those things which, with the 
 utmost stretch of his reason, he can scarce comprehend, 
 should be moved and managed without any reason at 
 all ? " Quid est enim verius quam neminem esse opor- 
 tere tarn stulte arrogantem, tit in se mentem et rationem 
 putet inesse, in ccelo mundoque non putetf Aut ea 
 qua vix summa ingenii ratione comprehendat, nulla ra- 
 tione moveri putetf] 
 
 From what has been said, it is plain to me we have 
 a more certain knowledge of the existence of a God, 
 than of any thing our senses have not immediately 
 discovered to us. Nay, I presume I may say, that we 
 more certainly know that there is a God, than that there
 
 OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF A GOD. 319 
 
 is any thing else without us. When I say " we know," 
 I mean there is such a knowledge within our reach 
 which we cannot miss, if we will but apply our minds 
 to that as we do to several other inquiries. 
 
 7. Our idea of a most perfect being, not the sole 
 proof of a God. How far the idea of a most perfect 
 being which a man may frame in his mind, does or 
 does not prove the existence of a God, I will not here 
 examine. For, in the different make of men's tempers, 
 and application of their thoughts, some arguments pre- 
 vail more on one, and some on another, for the confir- 
 mation of the same truth. But yet, I think this I may 
 say, that it is an ill way of establishing this truth and 
 silencing atheists, to lay the whole stress of so impor- 
 tant a point as this upon that sole foundation : and take 
 some men's having that idea of God in their minds (for 
 it is evident some men have none, and some worse than 
 none, and the most very different) for the only proof 
 of a Deity ; and out of an over-fondness of that darling 
 invention, cashier, or at least endeavour to invalidate, 
 all other arguments, and forbid us to hearken to those 
 proofs, as being weak or fallacious, which our own ex- 
 istence and the sensible parts of the universe offer so 
 clearly and cogently to our thoughts, that I deem it 
 impossible for a considering man to withstand them. 
 For I judge it as certain and clear a truth as can any 
 where be delivered, that " the invisible things of God 
 are clearly seen from the creation of the world, being 
 understood by the things that are made, even his eter- 
 nal power and Godhead." Though our own being fur- 
 nishes us, as I have shown, with an evident and incon- 
 testable proof of a Deity; and I believe nobody can 
 avoid the cogency of it who will but as carefully attend 
 to it as to any other demonstration of so many parts;
 
 320 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 yet this being so fundamental a truth, and of that 
 consequence that all religion and genuine morality de- 
 pend thereon, I doubt not but I shall be forgiven by my 
 reader if I go over some parts of this argument again, 
 and enlarge a little more upon them. 
 
 8. Something from eternity. There is no truth 
 more evident than that something must be from eter- 
 nity. I never yet heard of any one so unreasonable, 
 or that could suppose so manifest a contradiction, as 
 a time wherein there was perfectly nothing ; this being 
 of all absurdities the greatest, to imagine. that pure 
 nothing, the perfect negation and absence of all beings, 
 should ever produce any real existence. 
 
 It being then unavoidable for all rational creatures 
 to conclude that something has existed from eternity, 
 let us next see what kind of thing that must be. 
 
 9. Two sorts of, beings cogitative and incogitative. 
 
 There are but two sorts of beings in the world that 
 man knows or conceives : 
 
 First, Such as are purely material, without sense, 
 perception, or thought, as the clippings of our beards 
 and parings of our nails. 
 
 Secondly, Sensible, thinking, perceiving beings, such 
 as we find ourselves to be; which, if you please, we will 
 hereafter call " cogitative and incogitative beings ; " 
 which, to our present^ purpose, if for nothing else, are 
 perhaps better terms than " material and immaterial." 
 
 10. Incogitative being cannot produce a cogitative. 
 
 If then there must be something eternal, let us see 
 what sort of being it must be. And to that it is very 
 obvious to reason, that it must necessarily be a cogita- 
 tive being. For it is as impossible to conceive that 
 ever bare incogitative matter should produce a thinking 
 intelligent being, as that nothing should of itself pro-
 
 OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF A GOD. 321 
 
 duce matter. Let us suppose any parcel of matter 
 eternal, great or small, we shall find it in itself able 
 to produce nothing. For example : Let us suppose the 
 matter of the next pebble we meet with, eternal, closely 
 united, and the parts firmly at rest together; if there 
 were no other being in the world, must it not eternally 
 remain so, a dead, inactive lump? Is it possible to 
 conceive it can add motion to itself, being purely mat- 
 ter, or produce any thing? Matter, then, by its own 
 strength, cannot produce in itself so much as motion : 
 the motion it has must also be from eternity, or else 
 be produced and added to matter by some other being 
 more powerful than matter : matter, as is evident, hav- 
 ing not power to produce motion in itself. But let us 
 suppose motion eternal too; yet matter, incogitative 
 matter and motion, whatever changes it might produce 
 of figure and bulk, could never produce thought. 
 Knowledge will still be as far beyond the power of mo- 
 tion and matter to produce, as matter is beyond the 
 power of nothing or nonentity to produce. And I 
 appeal to every one's own thoughts, whether he can- 
 not as easily conceive matter produced by nothing, as 
 thought to be produced by pure matter, when before 
 there was no such thing as thought or an intelligent be- 
 ing existing. Divide matter into as minute parts as 
 you will, which we are apt to imagine a sort of spirit- 
 ualizing or making a thinking thing of it ; vary the fig- 
 ure and motion of it as much as you please; a globe, 
 cube, cone, prism, cylinder, &c., whose diameters are 
 but ioo,oooth part of a gry,* will operate no otherwise 
 
 * A gry is one-tenth of a line, a line one-tenth of an inch, an 
 inch one-tenth of a philosophical foot, a philosophical foot 
 one-third of a pendulum, whose diadroms, in the latitude of 
 forty-five degrees, are each equal to one second of time, or
 
 322 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 upon other bodies of proportionable bulk than those of 
 an inch or foot diameter; and you may as rationally 
 expect to produce sense, thought, and knowledge, by 
 putting together in a certain figure and motion 
 gross particles of matter, as by those that are the 
 very minutest that do any where exist. They knock, 
 impel, and resist one another just as the greater do, 
 and that is all they can do. So that, if we will sup- 
 pose nothing first or eternal, matter can never begin 
 to be; if we will suppose bare matter without motion, 
 eternal motion can never begin to be; if we suppose 
 only matter and motion first, or eternal, thought can 
 never begin to be. [For it is impossible to conceive 
 that matter, either with or without motion could have 
 originally in and from itself, sense, perception, and 
 knowledge, as is evident from hence, that then sense, 
 perception, and knowledge must be a property eternally 
 inseparable from matter and every particle of it. Not 
 to add, that though our general or specific conception 
 of matter makes us speak of it as one thing, yet really 
 all matter is not one individual thing, neither is there 
 any such thing existing as one material being, or one 
 single body, that we know or can conceive. And there- 
 fore, if matter were the eternal first cogitative being, 
 there would not be one eternal infinite cogitative being, 
 but an infinite number of eternal finite cogitative beings 
 independent one of another, of limited force and dis- 
 tinct thoughts, which could never produce that order, 
 harmony, and beauty, which are to be found in nature. 
 
 one-sixtieth of a minute. I have affectedly made use of this 
 measure here, and the parts of it, under a decimal division, 
 with names to them ; because I think it would be of general 
 convenience, that this should be the common measure in the 
 commonwealth of letters.
 
 OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF A GOD. 323 
 
 Since, therefore, whatsoever is the first eternal being 
 must necessarily be cogitative ; and] whatsoever is first 
 of all things must necessarily contain in it, and actually 
 have, at least, all the perfections that can ever after 
 exist ; nor can it ever give to another any perfection 
 that it hath not, either actually in itself or at least in a 
 higher degree; [it necessarily follows, that the first 
 eternal being cannot be matter.] 
 
 11. Therefore there has been an eternal wisdom. 
 If, therefore, it be evident that something necessarily 
 must exist from eternity, it is also as evident that that 
 something must necessarily be a cogitative being; for 
 it is as impossible that incogitative matter should pro- 
 duce a cogitative being, as that nothing, or the negation 
 of all being, should produce a positive being or mat- 
 ter. 
 
 12. Though this discovery of the necessary exist- 
 ence of an eternal mind does sufficiently lead us into 
 the knowledge of God, since it will hence follow that 
 all other knowing beings that have a beginning must 
 depend on him, and have no other ways of knowledge 
 or extent of power than what he gives them ; and there- 
 fore if he made those, he made also the less excellent 
 pieces of this universe, all inanimate beings, whereby 
 his omniscience, power, and providence will be estab- 
 lished, and all his other attributes necessarily follow : 
 yet, to clear up this a little farther, we will see what 
 doubts can be raised against it. 
 
 13. Whether material or no First, Perhaps it will 
 be said, that though it be as clear as demonstration can 
 make it, that there must be an eternal being, and that 
 being must also be knowing; yet, it does not follow 
 but that thinking being may also be material. Let it 
 be so ; it equally still follows that there is a God. For
 
 324 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 if there be an eternal, omniscient, omnipotent being, it 
 is certain that there is a God, whether you imagine that 
 being to be material or no. But herein, I suppose, lies 
 the danger and deceit of that supposition : there being 
 no way to avoid the demonstration, that there is an 
 eternal knowing Being, men devoted to matter would 
 willingly have it granted that this knowing Being is 
 material; and then letting slide out of their minds, 
 or the discourse, the demonstration whereby an eternal 
 knowing Being was proved necessarily to exist, would 
 argue all to be matter, and so deny a God, that is, an 
 eternal cogitative Being ; whereby they are so far from 
 establishing, that they destroy, their own hypothesis. 
 For if there can be, in their opinion, eternal matter 
 without any eternal cogitative Being, they manifestly 
 separate matter and thinking, and suppose no neces- 
 sary connexion of the one with the other, and so es- 
 tablish the necessity of an eternal Spirit, but not of 
 matter ; since it has been proved already, that an eter- 
 nal cogitative Being is unavoidably to be granted. 
 Now, if 'thinking and matter may be separated, the 
 eternal existence of matter will not follow from the 
 eternal existence of a cogitative Being, and they sup- 
 pose it to no purpose. 
 
 14. Not material: First, Because every particle of 
 matter is not cogitative. But now let us see how they 
 can satisfy themselves or others, that this eternal think- 
 ing Being is material. 
 
 First, I would ask them, whether they imagine that 
 all matter, every particle of matter, thinks? This, I 
 suppose, they will scarce say, since then there would be 
 as many eternal thinking beings as there are particles 
 of matter and so an infinity of gods. And yet, if they 
 will not allow matter as matter, that is, every particle
 
 OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF A GOD. 325 
 
 of matter, to be as well cogitative as extended, they 
 will have as hard a task to make out to their own rea- 
 sons a cogitative being out of incogitative particles, 
 as an extended being out of unextended parts, if I 
 may so speak. 
 
 15. Secondly, One particle alone of matter cannot 
 be cogitative. Secondly, If all matter does not think, 
 I next ask, whether it be only one atom that does so? 
 This has as many absurdities as the other ; for then this 
 atom of matter must be alone eternal or not. If this 
 alone be eternal, then this alone, by its powerful thought 
 or will, made all the rest of matter. And so we have 
 the creation of matter by a powerful thought, which 
 is that the materialists stick at: for, if they suppose 
 one single thinking atom to have produced all the 
 rest of matter, they cannot ascribe that pre-eminency to 
 it upon any other account than that of its thinking, 
 the only supposed difference. But allow it to be by 
 some other way which is above our conception, it must 
 be still creation ; and these men must give up their 
 great maxim, Ex nihilo nil fit. If it be said, that " all 
 the rest of matter is equally eternal as that thinking 
 atom," it will be to say any thing at pleasure, though 
 ever so absurd : for to suppose all matter eternal, and 
 yet one small particle in knowledge and power infinitely 
 above all the rest, is without any the least appearance 
 of reason to frame any hypothesis. Every particle of 
 matter, as matter, is capable of all the same figures and 
 motions of any other; and I challenge any one, in his 
 thoughts, to add any thing else to one above another. 
 
 16. Thirdly, A system of incogitative matter cannot 
 be cogitative. Thirdly, If then neither one peculiar 
 atom alone can be this eternal thinking Being, nor all 
 matter, as matter, i. e., every particle of matter, can be
 
 326 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 it; it only remains that it is some certain system of 
 matter duly put together, that is this thinking eternal 
 Being. This is that which, I imagine, is that notion 
 which men are aptest to have of God, who would have 
 him a material being, as most readily suggested to them 
 by the ordinary conceit they have of themselves and 
 other men, which they take to be material thinking 
 beings. But this imagination, however more natural, 
 is no less absurd than the other: for, to suppose the 
 eternal thinking Being to be nothing else but a com- 
 position of particles of matter, each whereof is in- 
 cogitative, is to ascribe all the wisdom and knowledge 
 of that eternal Being only to the juxtaposition of parts ; 
 than which nothing can be more absurd. For, unthink- 
 ing particles of matter, however put together, can have 
 nothing thereby added to them but a new relation of 
 position, which it is impossible should give thought 
 and knowledge to them. 
 
 17. Whether in motion, or at rest. But farther; 
 this corporeal system either has all its parts at rest, 
 or it is a certain motion of the parts wherein its think- 
 ing consists. If it be perfectly at rest, it is but one 
 lump, and so can have no privileges above one atom. 
 
 If it be the motion of its parts on which its think- 
 ing depends, all the thoughts there must be unavoid- 
 ably accidental and limited, since all the particles that 
 by motion cause thought, being each of them in itself 
 without any thought, cannot regulate its own motions, 
 much less be regulated by the thought of the whole, 
 since that thought is not the cause of motion, ( for then 
 it must be antecedent to it, and so without it,) but the 
 consequence of it, whereby freedom, power, choice, and 
 all rational and wise thinking or acting, will be quite 
 taken away ; so that such a thinking being will be no
 
 OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF A GOD. 327 
 
 better nor wiser than pure blind matter, since to resolve 
 all into the accidental unguided motions of blind mat- 
 ter, or into thought depending on unguided motions of 
 blind matter, is the same thing; not to mention the 
 narrowness of such thoughts and knowledge that must 
 depend on the motion of such parts. But there needs 
 no enumeration of any more absurdities and impossibil- 
 ities in this hypothesis (however full of them it be) 
 than that before mentioned ; since, let this thinking sys- 
 tem be all or a part of the matter of the universe, it is 
 impossible that any one particle should either know its 
 own or the motion of any other particle, or the whole 
 know the motion of every particular, and so regulate 
 its own thoughts or motions, or indeed have any 
 thought resulting from such motion. 
 
 18. Matter not co-eternal with an eternal Mind. 
 Others would have matter to be eternal, notwithstand- 
 ing that they allow an eternal cogitative, immaterial 
 being. This, though it take not away the being of a 
 God, yet, since it denies one and the first great piece 
 of his workmanship, the creation, let us consider it a 
 little. Matter must be allowed eternal ; why ? Because 
 you cannot conceive how it can be made out of nothing : 
 why do you not also think yourself eternal ? You will 
 answer, perhaps, Because about twenty or forty years 
 since you began to be. But if I ask you what that 
 "you" is, which began then to be, you can scarce tell 
 me. The matter whereof you are made began not then 
 to be ; for if it did then it is not eternal ; but it began to 
 be put together in such a fashion and frame as makes 
 up your body ; but yet that frame of particles is not you, 
 it makes not that thinking thing you are; (for I have 
 now to do with one who allows an eternal, immaterial, 
 thinking being, but would have unthinking matter eter-
 
 328 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 nai too ;) therefore when did that thinking thing begin 
 to be? If it did never begin to be, then have you al- 
 ways been a thinking thing from eternity : the absurdity 
 whereof I need not confute till I meet with one who is 
 so void of understanding as to own it. If, therefore, 
 you can allow a thinking thing to be made out of 
 nothing, (as all things that are not eternal must be,) 
 why also can you not allow it possible for a material 
 being to be made out of nothing by an equal power, 
 but that you have the experience of the one in view, 
 and not of the other? though, when well considered, 
 creation [of a spirit will be found to require no less 
 power than the creation of matter. Nay, possibly, if 
 we would emancipate ourselves from vulgar notions, 
 and raise our thoughts, as far as they would reach, 
 to a closer contemplation of things, we might be able 
 to aim at some dim and seeming conception how mat- 
 ter might at first be made, and begin to exist, by the 
 power of that etefnal first Being; but to give begin- 
 ning and being to a spirit would be found a more in- 
 conceivable effect of omnipotent power. But this be- 
 ing what would, perhaps, lead us too far from the 
 notions on which the philosophy now in the world is 
 built, it would not be pardonable to deviate so far from 
 them, or to inquire so far as grammar itself would 
 authorize, if the common settled opinion opposes it ; es- 
 pecially in this place, where the received doctrine serves 
 well enough to our present purpose, and leaves this 
 past doubt, that,] the creation or beginning of any one 
 [substance] out of nothing being once admitted, the 
 creation of all other, but the Creator himself, may, with 
 the same ease, be supposed. 
 
 19. But you will say, " Is it not impossible to admit 
 of the making any thing out of nothing, since we can-
 
 OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF A GOD. 329 
 
 not possibly conceive it ? " I answer, No : Because 
 it is not reasonable to deny the power of an infinite 
 Being because we cannot comprehend its opera- 
 tions. We do not deny other effects upon this ground, 
 because we cannot possibly conceive the manner of their 
 production. We cannot conceive how any thing but 
 impulse of body can move body; and yet that is not 
 a reason sufficient to make us deny it possible, against 
 the constant experience we have of it in ourselves, 
 in all our voluntary motions, which are produced in us 
 only by the free action or thought of our own minds ; 
 and are not nor can be the effects of the impulse or 
 determination of the motion of blind matter, in or upon 
 our bodies; for then it could not be in our power or 
 choice to alter it. For example : my right hand writes 
 whilst my left hand is still ; what causes rest in one and 
 motion in the other? Nothing but my will, a thought 
 of my mind ; my thought only changing, the right hand 
 rests, and the left hand moves. This is matter-of-fact 
 which cannot be denied: explain this, and make it in- 
 telligible, and then the next step will be to ^understand 
 creation: [for the giving a new determination to the 
 motion of the animal spirits (which some make use of 
 to explain voluntary motion) clears not the difficulty 
 one jot, to alter the determination of motion being in 
 this case no easier nor less than to give motion itself ; 
 since the new determination given to the animal spirits 
 must be either immediately by thought, or by some 
 other body put in their way by thought, which was not 
 in their way before, and so must owe its motion to 
 thought; either of which leaves voluntary motion as 
 unintelligible as it was before.] In the mean time, it is 
 an overvaluing ourselves, to reduce all to the narrow 
 measure of our capacities, and to conclude all things
 
 330 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 impossible to be done whose manner of doing exceeds 
 our comprehension. This is to make our comprehen- 
 sion infinite, or God finite, when what he can do is lim- 
 ited to what we can conceive of it. If you do not un- 
 derstand the operations of your own finite mind, that 
 thinking thing within you, do not deem it strange that 
 you cannot comprehend the operations of that eternal, 
 infinite Mind who made and governs all things, and 
 whom the heaven of heavens cannot contain. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF THE EXISTENCE OF OTHER 
 THINGS. 
 
 1. It is to be had only by sensation. The knowl- 
 edge of our own being we have by intuition. The ex- 
 istence of a God reason clearly makes known to us, as 
 has been shown. 
 
 The knowledge of the existence of any other thing, 
 we can have only by sensation: for, there being no 
 necessary connexion of real existence with any idea a 
 man hath in his memory, nor of any other existence 
 but that of God with the existence of any particular 
 man, no particular man can know the existence of any 
 other being, but only when by actual operating upon 
 him it makes itself perceived by him. For, the having 
 the idea of any thing in our mind no more proves the 
 existence of that thing than the picture of a man evi- 
 dences his being in the world, or the visions of a dream 
 make thereby a true history. 
 
 2. Instance whiteness of this paper. It is there- 
 fore the actual receiving of ideas from without that 
 gives us notice of the existence of other things, and
 
 OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF OTHER THINGS. 331 
 
 makes us know that something doth exist at that time 
 without us which causes that idea in us, though per- 
 haps we neither know nor consider how it does it : for 
 it takes not from the certainty of our senses, and the 
 ideas we receive by them, that we know not the manner 
 wherein they are produced ; v. g., whilst I write this, 
 I have, by the paper affecting my eyes, that idea pro- 
 duced in my mind which whatever object causes, I call 
 " white ; " by which I know that that quality or acci- 
 dent (i. e., whose appearance before my eyes always 
 causes that idea) doth really exist and hath a being 
 without me. And of this the greatest assurance I can 
 possibly have, and to which my faculties can attain, is 
 the testimony of my eyes, which are the proper and 
 sole judges of this thing; whose testimony I have 
 reason to rely on as so certain that I can no more doubt, 
 whilst I write this, that I see white and black, and that 
 something really exists that causes that sensation in 
 me, than that I write or move my hand; which is a 
 certainty as great as human nature is capable of con- 
 cerning the existence of any thing but a man's self 
 alone and of God. 
 
 3. This, though not so certain as demonstration, yet 
 may be called " knowledge" and proves the existence 
 of things without us. The notice we have by our 
 senses of the existing of things without us, though it 
 be not altogether so certain as our intuitive knowledge, 
 or the deductions of our reason employed about the 
 clear abstract ideas of our own minds ; yet it is an as- 
 surance that deserves the name of knowledge. If we 
 persuade ourselves that our faculties act and inform 
 us right concerning the existence of those objects that 
 affect them, it cannot pass for an ill-grounded confi- 
 dence : for I think nobody can, in earnest, be so seep-
 
 *32 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 tical as to be uncertain of the existence of those things 
 which he sees and feels. At least, he that can doubt 
 so far, (whatever he may have with his own thoughts,) 
 will never have any controversy with me : since he can 
 never be sure I say any thing contrary to his own opin- 
 ion. As to myself, I think God has given me assurance 
 enough of the existence of things without me; since, 
 by their different application, I can produce in myself 
 both pleasure and pain, which is one great concernment 
 of my present state. This is certain, the confidence 
 that our faculties do not herein deceive us is the great- 
 est assurance we are capable of concerning the exist- 
 ence of material beings. For we cannot act any thing 
 but by our faculties, nor talk of knowledge itself but 
 by the help of those faculties which are fitted to appre- 
 hend even what knowledge is. But, besides the assur- 
 ance we have from our senses themselves, that they do 
 not err in the information they give us of the existence 
 of things without us, when they are affected by them, 
 we are farther confirmed in this assurance by other 
 concurrent reasons. 
 
 4. First, Because we cannot have them but by the 
 inlet of the senses. First, It is plain those perceptions 
 are produced in us by exterior causes affecting our 
 senses, because those that want the organs of any sense 
 never can have the ideas belonging to that sense 
 produced in their minds. This is too evident to be 
 doubted : and therefore we cannot but be assured that 
 they come in by the organs of that sense, and no other 
 way. The organs themselves, it is plain, do not pro- 
 duce them ; for then the eyes of a man in the dark 
 would produce colours, and his nose smell roses in the 
 winter: but we see nobody gets the relish of a pine- 
 apple till he goes to the Indies where it is, and tastes it.
 
 OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF OTHER THINGS. 333 
 
 5. Secondly, Because an idea from actual sensation 
 and another from memory are very distinct perceptions. 
 Secondly, Because sometimes I find that I cannot 
 avoid the having those ideas produced in my mind: 
 for though when my eyes are shut, or windows fast, I 
 can at pleasure recall to my mind the ideas of light or 
 the sun, which former sensations had lodged in my 
 memory ; so I can at pleasure lay by that idea, and take 
 into my view that of the smell of a rose, or taste of 
 sugar. But if I turn my eyes at noon towards the sun, 
 I cannot avoid the ideas which the light or sun then 
 produces in me. So that there is a manifest difference 
 between the ideas laid up in my memory (over which, 
 if they were therejmly, I should have constantly the 
 same power to dispose of them, and lay them by at 
 pleasure), and those which force themselves upon me 
 and I cannot avoid having. And therefore it must 
 needs be some exterior cause, and the brisk acting of 
 some objects without me, whose efficacy I cannot re- 
 sist, that produces those ideas in my mind, whether I 
 will or no. Besides, there is nobody who doth not per- 
 ceive the difference in himself between contemplating 
 the sun as he hath the idea of it in his memory, and 
 actually looking upon it: of which two his perception 
 is so distinct, that few of his ideas are more distin- 
 guishable one from another: and therefore he hath 
 certain knowledge that they are not both memory, or 
 the actions of his mind and fancies only within him; 
 but that actual seeing hath a cause without. 
 
 6. Thirdly, Pleasure or pain, which accompanies 
 actual sensation, accompanies not the returning of 
 those ideas without the external objects. Thirdly, 
 Add to this, that many of those ideas are produced in 
 us with pain, which afterwards we remember without
 
 334 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 the least offence. Thus the pain of heat or cold, when 
 the idea of it is revived in our minds, gives us no dis- 
 turbance ; which, when felt, was very troublesome, and 
 is again when actually repeated : which is occasioned 
 by the disorder the external object causes in our bodies 
 when applied to them. And we remember the pain of 
 hunger, thirst, or the headache, without any pain at 
 all ; which would either never disturb us, or else con- 
 stantly do it as often as we thought of it, were there 
 nothing more but ideas floating in our minds, and ap- 
 pearances entertaining our fancies, without the real 
 existence of things affecting us from abroad. The 
 same may be said of pleasure accompanying several 
 actual sensations; and, though mathematical demon- 
 stration depends not upon sense, yet the examining 
 them by diagrams gives great credit to the evidence of 
 our sight, and seems to give it a certainty approaching 
 to that of demonstration itself. For it would be very 
 strange that a man should allow it for an undeniable 
 truth, that two angles of a figure which he measures 
 by lines and angles of a diagram, should be bigger one 
 than the other, and yet doubt of the existence of those 
 lines and angles which, by looking on, he makes use 
 of to measure. that by. 
 
 7. Fourthly, Our senses assist one another's testi- 
 mony of the existence of outward things. Fourthly, 
 Our senses, in many cases, bear witness to the truth 
 of each other's report concerning the existence of sensi- 
 ble things without us. He that sees a fire may, if he 
 doubt whether it be any thing more than a bare fancy, 
 feel it too, and be convinced by putting his hand in it ; 
 which certainly could never be put into such exquisite 
 pain by a bare idea or phantom, unless that the pain be 
 a fancy too: which yet he cannot, when the burn is
 
 OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF OTHER THINGS. 335 
 
 well, by raising the idea of it, bring upon himself 
 again. 
 
 Thus I see, whilst I write this, I can change the 
 appearance of the paper ; and, by designing the letters, 
 tell beforehand what new idea it shall exhibit the very 
 next moment, by barely drawing my pen over it ; which 
 will neither appear (let me fancy as much as I will) 
 if my hand stand still, or though I move my pen, if my 
 eyes be shut ; nor, when those characters are once made 
 on the paper, can I choose afterwards but see them as 
 they are; that is, have the ideas of such letters as I 
 have made. Whence it is manifest that they are not 
 barely the sport and play of my own imagination, when 
 I find that the characters that were made at the pleas- 
 ure of my own thoughts do not obey them; nor yet 
 cease to be, whenever I shall fancy it, but continue to 
 affect my senses constantly and regularly, according to 
 the figures I made them. To which if we will add, 
 that the sight of those shall, from another man, draw 
 such sounds as I beforehand design they shall stand 
 for, there will be little reason left to doubt that those 
 words I write do really exist without me, when they 
 cause a long series of regular sounds to affect my ears, 
 which could not be the effect of my imagination, nor 
 could my memory retain them in that order. 
 
 8. This certainty is as great as our condition needs. 
 But yet, if after all this any one will be so sceptical 
 as to distrust his senses, and to affirm that all we see 
 and hear, feel and taste, think and do, during our whole 
 being, is but the series and deluding appearances of a 
 long dream whereof there is no reality, and therefore 
 will question the existence of all things or our knowl- 
 edge of any thing ; I must desire him to consider, that 
 if all be a dream, then he doth but dream that he makes
 
 336 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 the question ; and so it is not much matter that a wak- 
 ing man should answer him. But yet, if he pleases, he 
 may dream that I make him this answer, that the cer- 
 tainty of things existing in rerum natura, when we 
 have the testimony of our senses for it, is not only as 
 great as our frame can attain to, but as our condition 
 needs. For, our faculties being suited not to the full 
 extent of being, nor to a perfect, clear, comprehensive 
 knowledge of things free from all doubt and scruple, 
 but to the preservation of us, in whom they are, and 
 accommodated to the use of life, they serve to our pur- 
 pose well enough, if they will but give us certain notice 
 of those things which are convenient or inconvenient 
 to us. For he that sees a candle burning, and hath ex- 
 perimented the force of its flame by putting his finger 
 in it, will little doubt that this is something existing 
 without him, which does him harm and puts him to 
 great pain; which is assurance enough, when no man 
 requires greater certainty to govern his actions by than 
 what is as certain as his actions themselves. And if 
 our dreamer pleases to try whether the glowing heat of 
 a glass furnace be barely a wandering imagination in 
 a drowsy man's fancy, by putting his hand into it, he 
 may, perhaps, be awakened into a certainty, greater 
 than he could wish, that it is something more than bare 
 imagination. So that this evidence is as great as we 
 can desire, being as certain to us as our pleasure or 
 pain, i. e., happiness or misery ; beyond which we have 
 no concernment either of knowing or being. Such an 
 assurance of the existence of things without us, is suf- 
 ficient to direct us in the attaining the good and avoid- 
 ing the evil which is caused by them, which is the 
 important concernment we have of being made ac- 
 quainted with them.
 
 OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF OTHER THINGS. 337 
 
 9. But reaches no farther than actual sensation. 
 In fine, then, when our senses do actually convey into 
 our understandings any idea, we cannot but be satis- 
 fied that there doth something at that time really exist 
 without us which doth affect our senses, and by them 
 give notice of itself to our apprehensive faculties, and 
 actually produce that idea which we then perceive : and 
 we cannot so far distrust their testimony as to doubt 
 that such collections of simple ideas as we have ob- 
 served by our senses to be united together, do really 
 exist together. But this knowledge extends as far as 
 the present testimony of our senses, employed about 
 particular objects that do then affect them, and no 
 farther. For if I saw such a collection of simple ideas 
 as is wont to be called " man " existing together one 
 minute since, and am now alone; I cannot be certain 
 that the same man exists now, since there is no neces- 
 sary connexion of his existence a minute since with 
 his existence now: by a thousand ways he may cease 
 to be, since I had the testimony of my senses for his 
 existence. And if I cannot be certain that the man I 
 saw last to-day is now in being, I can less be certain 
 that he is so who hath been longer removed from my 
 senses, and I have not seen since yesterday, or since 
 the last year; and much less can I be certain of the 
 existence of men that I never saw. And therefore, 
 though it be highly probable that millions of men do 
 now exist, yet, whilst I am alone writing this, I have 
 not that certainty of it which we strictly call " knowl- 
 edge ; " though the great likelihood of it puts me past 
 doubt, and it be reasonable for me to do several things 
 upon the confidence that there are men (and men also 
 of my acquaintance, with whom I have to do) now in 
 the world : but this is but probability, not knowledge.
 
 338 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 10. Folly to expect demonstration in every thing. 
 Whereby yet we may observe how foolish and vain a 
 thing it is for a man of a narrow knowledge, who hav- 
 ing reason given him to judge of the different evidence 
 and probability of things, and to be swayed accord- 
 ingly; how vain, I say, it is to expect demonstration 
 and certainty in things not capable of it, and refuse 
 assent to very rational propositions, and act contrary 
 to very plain and clear truths, because they cannot be 
 made out so evident as to surmount every the least (I 
 will not say reason, but) pretence of doubting. He 
 that in the ordinary affairs of life would admit of noth- 
 ing but direct plain demonstration, would be sure oi 
 nothing in this world but of perishing quickly. The 
 wholesomeness of his meat or drink would not give him 
 reason to venture on it : and I would fain know what 
 it is he could do upon such grounds as were capable 
 of no doubt, no objection. 
 
 11. Past existence is known by memory As, 
 when our senses are actually employed about any ob- 
 ject, we do know that it does exist, so by our memory 
 we may be assured that heretofore things that affected 
 our senses have existed. And thus we have knowledge 
 of the past existence of several things, whereof our 
 senses having informed us, our memories still retain 
 the ideas ; and of this we are past all doubt so long as 
 we remember well. But this knowledge also reaches 
 no farther than our senses have formerly assured us. 
 Thus, seeing water at this instant, it is an unquestion- 
 able truth to me that water doth exist ; and remember- 
 ing that I saw it yesterday, it will also be always true, 
 and, as long as my memory retains it, always an un- 
 doubted proposition to me, that water did exist the loth 
 of July 1688, as it will also be equally true that a certain
 
 OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF OTHER THINGS. 339 
 
 number of very fine colours did exist, which at the 
 same time I saw upon a bubble of that water: but 
 being now quite out of sight both of the water and 
 bubbles too, it is no more certainly known to me that 
 the water doth now exist than that the bubbles or 
 colours therein do so; it being no more necessary that 
 water should exist to-day because it existed yesterday, 
 than that the colours or bubbles exist to-day because 
 they existed yesterday, though it be exceedingly much 
 more probable, because water hath been observed to 
 continue long in existence, but bubbles and the colours 
 on them quickly cease to be. 
 
 12. The existence of spirits not knowable. What 
 ideas we have of spirits, and how we come by them, I 
 have 'already shown. But though we have those ideas 
 in our minds, and know we have them there, the hav- 
 ing the ideas of spirits does not make us know that any 
 such things do exist without us, or that there are any 
 finite spirits, or any other spiritual beings but the eter- 
 nal God. We have ground from revelation, and sev- 
 eral other reasons, to believe with assurance that there 
 are such creatures; but, our senses not being able to 
 discover them, we want the means of knowing their 
 particular existences. For we can no more know that 
 there are finite spirits really existing by the idea we 
 have of such beings in our minds, than by the ideas 
 any one has of fairies or centaurs he can come to know 
 that things answering those ideas do really exist. 
 
 And therefore concerning the existence of finite spir- 
 its, as well as several other things, we must content 
 ourselves with the evidence of faith ; but universal 
 certain propositions concerning this matter are beyond 
 our reach. For, however true it may be, v. g., that all 
 the intelligent spirits that God ever created do still
 
 340 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 exist, yet it can never make a part of our certain 
 knowledge. These and the like propositions we may 
 assent to as highly probable, but are not, I fear, in this 
 state capable of knowing. We are not, then, to put 
 others upon demonstrating, nor ourselves upon search 
 of, universal certainty in all those matters wherein we 
 are not capable of any other knowledge but what our 
 senses give us in this or that particular. 
 
 13. Particular propositions concerning existences 
 are knowable. By which it appears that there are two 
 sorts of propositions, (i.) There is one sort of prop- 
 ositions concerning the existence of any thing answer- 
 able to such an idea ; as having the idea of an elephant, 
 phoenix, motion, or an angel in my mind, the first and 
 natural inquiry is, whether such a thing does any 
 where exist. And this knowledge is only of particu- 
 lars. No existence of any thing without us, but only 
 of God, can certainly be known farther than our senses 
 inform us. (2.) There is another sort of propositions, 
 wherein is expressed the agreement or disagreement 
 of our abstract ideas, and their dependence one on 
 another. Such propositions may be universal and cer- 
 tain. So having the idea of God and myself, of fear 
 and obedience, I cannot but be sure that God is to be 
 feared and obeyed by me: and this proposition will be 
 certain concerning man in general, if I have made an 
 abstract idea of such a species, whereof I am one par- 
 ticular. But yet this proposition, how certain soever, 
 that men ought to fear and obey God, proves not to 
 me the existence of men in the world, but will be true 
 of all such creatures whenever they do exist: which 
 certainty of such general propositions depends on the 
 agreement or disagreement is to be discovered in those 
 abstract ideas.
 
 OF OUR KNOWLEDGE OF OTHER THINGS. 341 
 
 14. And general propositions concerning abstract 
 ideas. In the former case, our knowledge is the con- 
 sequence of the existence of things producing ideas in 
 our minds by our senses: in the latter, knowledge is 
 the consequence of the ideas (be they what they will) 
 that are in our minds, producing their general certain 
 propositions. Many of these are called ceternce veri- 
 tates, and all of them indeed are so; not from being 
 written all or any of them in the minds of all men, or 
 that they were any of them propositions in any one's 
 mind till he, having got the abstract ideas, joined or 
 separated them by affirmation or negation. But 
 wheresoever we can suppose such a creature as man 
 is, endowed with such faculties, and thereby furnished 
 with such ideas, as we have, we must conclude he must 
 needs, when he applies his thoughts to the considera- 
 tion of his ideas, know the truth of certain propositions 
 that will arise from the agreement or disagreement 
 which he will perceive in his own ideas. Such propo- 
 sitions are therefore called " eternal truths," not be- 
 cause they are eternal propositions actually formed, 
 and antecedent to the understanding that at any 
 time makes them; nor because they are imprinted 
 on the mind from any patterns that are any 
 where of them out of the mind, and existed before; 
 but because, being once made about abstract ideas 
 so as to be true, they will, whenever they can be 
 supposed to be made again at any time past or to come, 
 by a mind having those ideas, always actually be true. 
 For, names being supposed to stand perpetually for 
 the same ideas, and the same ideas having immutably 
 the same habitudes one to another, propositions con-
 
 34 2 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 earning any abstract ideas that are once true must 
 xieeds be eternal verities.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Abstract ideas. See Ideas. 
 Abstraction, 85, 91. 
 Abstruse ideas. See Ideas. 
 Accident, 194, 207. 
 Action, 129, 190, 191. 
 Actions, 184; Voluntary, 174. 
 
 See also Mind. 
 
 Actual knowledge. See Knowledge. 
 Agreement of ideas, 267, 299, 313. 
 
 See also Knowledge. 
 Alteration, 233. 
 Angels, 79, 206. 
 Anger, 125, 155. 
 Animal, 243; Identity of, 241. See 
 
 also Brutes. 
 
 Animal spirits, 51, 54, 59, 73. 3*9- 
 Archetypes, 301, 303, 306. 
 Attention, 29, 73, 119, 120. See 
 
 also Memory. 
 Aversion, 155. 
 
 Bad, 176. 
 
 Beast, 308. 
 
 Beings, but two sorts, 320. 
 
 Birds, have memory, 79. 
 
 Blood, 202. 
 
 Bodies and spirits, 210 ff., 217. 
 
 Body, 196, 208, 210, 215, 217, 218, 
 253- 
 
 Boyle, Robert, 13. 
 
 Brain, 36, 54. 
 
 Brutes, have memory, 79; compare 
 ideas to some extent, 83 ; com- 
 pound ideas but little, 84; do 
 not abstract, 85; have reason, 
 86. 
 
 Capacities, Extent of, 20-22. 
 Cartesians, 250. 
 
 Cause, 232, 233; Privative, 50 ff.; 
 Cause and effect, vi, 232 ff. 
 
 Certainty, 303, 313; depends on 
 intuition, 274. 
 
 Changelings, 308 ff. 
 
 Christian, 25*. 
 
 Clearness, prevents confusion of 
 ideas, 82. 
 
 Cogitative beings, 320 ff. 
 
 Colors, 36; Modes of, 115. 
 
 Comparing ideas, 83, 225, 237. 
 
 Complex ideas, vi. See also Ideas. 
 
 Compounding ideas, 83. 
 
 Comprehension : See Knowledge. 
 
 Compulsion, 136. 
 
 Consciousness, 247 ff. ; makes per- 
 sonal identity, 33, 247, 251, 254, 
 256 ff. ; makes self, 247 ff., 255, 
 259 ff. ; necessary to thinking, 
 246; object of reward and pun- 
 ishment, 255. 
 
 Contemplation, 72, 118. 
 
 Creation, 233. 
 
 Delight, 45, 125. 
 
 Demonstration, 276, 285, 303; 
 each step must have intuitive 
 evidence, 278; not always to be 
 expected, 338; not limited to 
 quantity, 279 ff. ; not so clear 
 as intuitive knowledge, 273, 276, 
 277; preceded by doubt, 277. 
 
 Demonstrative knowledge. See 
 Knowledge. 
 
 Desire, 123, 149; confounded with 
 will, 147, 155; is uneasiness, 
 123, 149, 155, 187; misled by 
 wrong judgment, 174; moved 
 only by happiness, 157; Object
 
 344 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 of, 176; raised by due conside- 
 ration, 162; Suspension of, 163, 
 1 88. 
 
 Despair, 124. 
 
 Discerning, vi, 80. 
 
 Diversity, vi, 237 ff., 268, 291. 
 
 Divisibility of matter, 53; incom- 
 prehensible, 218. 
 
 Doubt, 315. 
 
 Dreaming, 119, 121. 
 
 Duration, vi. 
 
 Duration, infinite, 99, 104, 1 08, 112. 
 
 Ecstasy, 119. 
 
 Effect, 232, 233. 
 
 Envy, 125, 155. 
 
 Essay of Human Understanding, 
 design of, 8, 12, 17; Editions, 
 iii, xi; Method, 18; Occasion, 9, 
 
 22. 
 
 Eternal Being, 317 ff. ; most know- 
 ing. 3'7; most powerful, 317; 
 not material, 324 ff. See also 
 God. 
 
 Eternal verities, 341. 
 
 Eternal wisdom, 323. 
 
 Eternity. See Duration. 
 
 Evil, 122, 158. 
 
 Existence, vii, 298, 314 ff. ; co- 
 existence, 269, 291, 295; Idea 
 of, 48; Our existence known 
 intuitively, 298, 314, 330; God's 
 existence known by demonstra- 
 tion, 298, 314; Existence of 
 other things known by our 
 senses, 298, 314, 330 ff.; Past 
 existence known only by mem- 
 ory, 338. 
 
 Experience, 26, 89, 216, 297. 
 
 Extension, of body and space dis- 
 tinguished, 42; of body, incom- 
 prehensible, 211 ff.; Relations 
 of, 235. 
 
 Faculties of the mind, 44, 140; 
 
 are powers, 131. 
 Faculty, 138, 140. 
 Faith, vii, 339; different from 
 
 knowledge, 339. 
 Fear, 124, 153. 
 Figure, 208. 
 
 Finite, 96; Idea of, 97; mode of 
 quantity, 96. See also Infinite. 
 
 Free, 166, 167; how far man is 
 free, 132, 141, 189; in respect 
 of willing, man not free, 136, 
 142. 
 
 Freedom, belongs to agents, 133, 
 136. '37; wherein it consists, 
 138, 145, 165. See also Lib- 
 erty. 
 
 Free will, 136, 163. 
 
 Future, The, 176 ff. 
 
 General ideas. See Ideas. 
 
 Generation, 233. 
 
 God, 315 ff.; Attributes of, 96, 
 220, 317, 323; Clear proof of 
 His existence is possible, 315; 
 Knowledge of His existence 
 more certain than of anything 
 else, 318; Idea of, 219 ff.; How 
 we come by our idea of God, 
 318; Our idea of Him, not the 
 sole proof of His existence, 319; 
 incapable of motion because in- 
 finite spirit, 210; Omniscience 
 of, 78. See also Cogitative Be- 
 ing, Eternal Being. 
 
 Good, 122, 158; Good and evil, 
 122, 174, 176; Greatest good, 
 167; Greatest good not desired, 
 158 ff.; Greatest positive good 
 determines not the will, 150, 
 154, 187; works on will by de- 
 sire, 149, 162. 
 
 Habit, 69, 184. 
 
 Habitual knowledge. See Knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 Hair, 202. 
 
 Happiness, 152, 157 ff., 160, 166 
 ff., 170, 175, 177, 182, 187; Fu- 
 ture, 176, 1 86. 
 
 Hardness, 40, 41. 
 
 Hatred, 123. 
 
 Heat and cold, 59. 
 
 Hope, 124. 
 
 Huygenius, Christiaan, 13. 
 
 Ideas, v, vi, 25 ff. ; Definition of, 
 23, 52, 73; Source of (see also
 
 INDEX. 
 
 345 
 
 Sensation and Reflection), 25 ff., 
 
 9O, 126, I3O t 192, 219, 221, 222, 
 
 231; Abstract, 85, 94; Abstruse, 
 94; Collective, 223, 224; Com- 
 plex, 90 ff., 103 ff., 301; General, 
 85, 91; Original, 192; Positive, 
 50 ff.; Simple, 33 ff, 49, 88, 91, 
 92, 95, 121, 218, 223, 230, 231, 
 292, 300; fade in the memory, 
 74; not always resemblances, 
 52. See also Existence, Finite, 
 God, Infinite, Infinity, Motion, 
 Passions, Power, Qualities, Re- 
 flection, Relation, Sensation, 
 Solidity, Space, Spirits, Sub- 
 stance, Succession, Unity. 
 
 Identity, vi, 237 ff., 268, 291; of 
 animals, 241; of man, 242, 257; 
 of a plant, 241 ; of substance, 
 238; Knowledge of, 268, 291; 
 made by continued existence, 
 264; not comprehended by unity 
 of substance, 243; personal 
 identity (246 ff.) depends upon 
 consciousness, 33, 247 ff., 254, 
 256 ff. 
 
 Idiots, 87. 
 
 Ignorance, 181. 
 
 Ill, why chosen, 171. See also 
 Evil. 
 
 Immensity, 104. 
 
 Immortality, 309 ff. 
 
 Inadvertency, 181. 
 
 Incogitative beings, 320, 325. 
 
 Incompatibility to co-existence, 
 295- 
 
 Individuationis principium, 239. 
 See Identity. 
 
 Infinite, 96; divisibility, 104; du- 
 ration, 99; Idea of, not appli- 
 cable to other ideas as well as 
 quantity, 99; Idea of, very ob- 
 scure, 102; difference between 
 idea of infinity of space or 
 number and idea of a space or 
 a number infinite, 100; number 
 affords us clearest idea of in- 
 finite, 103; No positive idea of, 
 105 ff., 113; What positive, what 
 nrgative in our idea of, 106 ff., 
 no; Infinite space, 97 ff., 101. 
 
 Infinity, vi, 95 ff. ; applied to 
 God, 96; How we come by the 
 Idea of, 97, 100; Ideas of, arise 
 from sensation and reflection, 
 113; of space, number and du- 
 ration, 96, 101 ff. 
 
 Intension, 119. 
 
 Intuitive knowledge. See Knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 Invention, 78. 
 
 Involuntary, 131, 134. 
 
 Joy, 124, 156. 
 
 Judgment, vii, 67 ff., 81, 181; of 
 good and evil, 174; Wrong, 175 
 ff. ; Causes of wrong judgment, 
 179, 181. 
 
 Judgment, Day of, 259, 263. 
 
 Justice, 305. 
 
 Knowledge, vii, 267 ff.; Agreement 
 or disagreement of ideas, 267 
 ff., 299, 313; fourfold, 267; of 
 identity or diversity, 268, 291; 
 of relation, 268; of co-existence, 
 268, 269, 291, 295; of real ex- 
 istence, 268, 269, 298, 314 ff. ; 
 Actual, 270; Demonstrative, 275 
 ff., 285, 298; Habitual, 271 ff.; 
 Intuitive, 274, 277, 278, 285, 
 291, 298, 314, 330; Mathemat- 
 ical, 302; moral, 302, 304; Sen- 
 sitive, 282, 286, 298; of general 
 truths, 300; of substance, 291, 
 307; Beginning and progress, 
 89; Extent of, 19, 21, 284 ff., 
 340; Reality of, 298 ff. ; not al- 
 ways clear when ideas are so, 
 284; intuitive of our own exist- 
 ence, 298, 314, 330; demonstra- 
 tive of the existence of God, 
 298, 314; sensitive of the exist- 
 ence of other things, 298, 314, 
 330 ff. 
 
 Language, vi; Abuse of, 13. 
 
 Liberty, 132 ff., 137, 163, 166, 171, 
 182, 187, 189; belongs not to 
 the will, 136, 140 ff., but to 
 man, 141; Foundation of, 167; 
 To be determined by judgment,
 
 346 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 no restraint of liberty, 164. See 
 also Freedom. 
 Love, 122. 
 
 Madmen, 87. 
 Madness, 88. 
 Making, 233. 
 
 Man, 243, 246, 264, 308; not pro- 
 duct of ignorance and chance, 
 318. 
 Mathematical knowledge. See 
 
 Knowledge. 
 
 Mathematics, 273, 279. 
 Matter, 207, 216, 322; cannot 
 produce motion, 32; Its cohe- 
 sion and divisibility incompre- ' 
 hensible, 211 ff., 218; not eter- 
 nal, 322 ff., 327 ff. 
 Maurice, Prince, 244. -, 
 Meliboeus, 264. 
 
 Memory, 73, 273, 333, 338; De- 
 fects of, 77; in brutes, 79; n 
 remembering, mind is often ac- 
 tive, 76; repetition, 76. 
 Mind, 208, 267; can neither make 
 nor destroy ideas, 34; deter- 
 mines the will, 146; has power 
 to revive perceptions, 73, 76; 
 its actions, 44. 69, 91, 131; Ope- 
 rations of the, a source of ideas, 
 26 ff. 
 Misery, 157. 158, 160; Future, 
 
 176, 186. 
 
 Modes, vi, vii, 92; Simple, 93, 95. 
 116; mixed, 93; of colours, 115; 
 of motion, 114, 115; of plea- 
 sure and pain, 121; of sounds, 
 115; of tastes, 115; of thinking, 
 itt. 
 
 Molineaux, William, quoted, 67 ff. 
 Monsters, 311 ff. 
 
 Moral knowledge. See Knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 Morality, determines choice, 185. 
 
 Motion, 215; Communication of, 
 
 215; Idea of, 40, 129, 209; 
 
 modes of, 114, us; of spirits, 
 
 209; Voluntary, 2:3, 329. 
 
 Motivity, 208, 215. 
 
 Names, 307; 111 use of, 264, 305; 
 Moral, 305. 
 
 Naming of ideas, 43, 84, 116 ff.; 
 of modes, 116. 
 
 Necessity, 132, 136. 
 
 Nestor, 252. 
 
 Newton, Sir Isaac, 13, 273. 
 
 Nothing, cannot produce real be- 
 ing, 316. 
 
 Number, vi, 103; affords clearest 
 idea of infinity, 103 ff. ; Infinity 
 of, 101 ff. 
 
 Opal, 295. 
 Operations, 27. 
 
 Organs, 332; suited to our state, 
 202 ff. 
 
 Pain, 45, 55, 73, 125. 179, 3341 
 
 its use, 46 ff., 74. 
 Parrot, 244, 245. 
 Pascal, Blaise, 78. 
 Passions, 122 ff., 156; government 
 of, 168; Ideas of, arise from 
 sensation and reflection, 126. 
 Perception, vi, 44, 64 ff., 332; be- 
 longs to all animals, 70; Con- 
 stitutes difference between ani- 
 mals and inferior beings, 70; 
 impression made on the mind, 
 64; in perception, mind is pas- 
 sive, 64; of three sorts, 131; 
 inlet of knowledge, 72, 332; 
 shows goodness of Maker, 71. 
 Person, 246, 257, 262; conscious- 
 ness makes same person, 262. 
 See also Personal identity, Self. 
 Personal identity, Reward and 
 punishment founded on, 251, 
 255, 263. See also Identity. 
 Philosophy, 13, 140, 288, 296. 
 Place, Relations of, 235. 
 Plato, 259. 
 Platonist, 252. 
 Pleasure; 45 ff., 73. I2 5. 179. 334! 
 
 Use of, 46. 
 Pleasure and pain, vi, 45, 48, 158, 
 
 176 ff.; Modes of, 121 ff. 
 Positive ideas. See Ideas. 
 Power, vi, 48, 127 ff. ; Active and 
 passive, 128, 191, 216, 296; a 
 great part of our ideas of sub- 
 stances, 198; Clearest idea of,
 
 INDEX. 
 
 347 
 
 derived from spirit, 129; do not 
 operate on each other, 139; in- 
 cludes relation, 128; of the 
 mind, 73, 9:, 92, 129, 137; re- 
 ceived from sensation and re- 
 flection, 48. 
 
 Powers, 61, 139, 199, 201, 223; 
 Knowledge of, 296. See also 
 Qualities. 
 
 Present, The, 177 ff. 
 
 Principium individuationis, 239. 
 See Identity. 
 
 Principles, v; not innate, 66. 
 
 Privative causes. See Cause. 
 
 Proofs, 276. 
 
 Propositions, 273, 340; Particular, 
 340; Universal, 340. 
 
 Punishment, 172, 185; and reward, 
 follow consciousness, 251, 255, 
 263; of unconscious drunkard, 
 258. 
 
 Pursuits, Variety of, 170. 
 
 Pythagorean, 252. 
 
 Qualities, 53 ; Primary, 53, 60, 
 200, 202, 293 ff. ; How primary 
 qualities produce ideas, 54; 
 Ideas of primary qualities re- 
 semblances, 56 ff. ; Secondary, 
 54, 61, 63, 200, 202, 292, 293; 
 How secondary qualities pro- 
 duce ideas, 55; Ideas of sec- 
 ondary qualities not resem- 
 blances, 56 ff., 61; of sub- 
 stances, 53, 200 ff. ; the terms 
 "idea of quality" and "quality" 
 sometimes confused, 53. 
 
 Reality of knowledge. See Knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 Reason, vii, 81, 182. 
 
 Reasoning, 276. 
 
 Recollection, 118. 
 
 Reflection, 27, 29, 44, 219; source 
 of ideas, 25, 26 ff, 36, 126, 129, 
 
 *33> 1 9 2 , 2l6, 221, 222. See 
 
 Sensation. 
 
 Relation, vi, 94, 225 ff. ; All ter- 
 minate in simple ideas, 230; All 
 things capable of, 228; always 
 between two things, 228 ; Change 
 of relation may be without 
 
 change of subject, 227; different 
 from things related, 227 ; Ideas 
 of, clearer often than subjects 
 related, 229; without correlative 
 terms, not easily perceived, 226; 
 of cause and effect, 232 ff. ; of 
 identity and diversity, 237 ff. ; 
 of place and extension, 235; of 
 time, 234. See also Knowledge. 
 
 Relative terms, 227, 231, 236. 
 
 Remembrance, 118, 272. 
 
 Repetition. See Memory. 
 
 Restraint, 136. 
 
 Resurrection, 253. 
 
 Retention, vl, 72 ff. 
 
 Reverie, 118. 
 
 Rewards. See Punishment. 
 
 Sagacity, 276. 
 
 Same, 243, 254. 
 
 Sand, 202. 
 
 Sceptical, no one so sceptical as 
 to deny his own existence, 315, 
 316. 
 
 Self, 247, 255, 258, 261. See also 
 Person, Personal identity. 
 
 Sensation, 51, 56 ff., 67, 118, 207, 
 283. 33; source of ideas, 25, 
 26 ff., 36, 113, 126, 130, 192, 
 216, 219, 221, 222, 333. See 
 also Reflection. 
 
 Senses, 26, 35 ff., 331, 334; suited 
 to our state, 71, 202; Use of, 74. 
 
 Sensitive knowledge. See Knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 Shame, 126, 155. 
 
 Simple ideas, v. See Ideas. 
 
 Sleep, 119, 120. 
 
 Smell, 37. 
 
 Socrates, 33, 252, 256, 238. 
 
 Soft, 41. 
 
 Solidity, 38 ff., 219; distinct from 
 hardness, 40; distinct from 
 space, 39; fills space, 39; insep- 
 arable from body, 39; Impulse, 
 resistance and protrusion de- 
 pend upon it, 42; Idea of, re- 
 ceived from touch, 38; What it 
 U 43- 
 
 Something from eternity, 330. 
 
 Sorrow, 124.
 
 348 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Soul, 209, 210, 215; and body, 
 210; does not always think, 31 
 ff. ; does not alone make the 
 man, 242, 253; Immateriality of, 
 252, 263, 289; Our ignorance of, 
 263, 289, 290.* See also Spirits. 
 
 Sound, 115; Modes of, 115. 
 
 Space, vi, 39; Idea of, 97; In- 
 finite, 97 ff., 10 1, 104, no ff. 
 
 Species, 313. 
 
 Spirit, 196, 197, 208; pure, 216. 
 
 Spirits, 205, 216; capable of mo- 
 tion, 209, 218; Idea of, 207; 
 Knowledge of, 297; Existence 
 of, not knowable, 339; our ig- 
 norance of, 217, 221, 297. See 
 also Mind, Person, Soul. 
 
 Study, 119. 
 
 Stupidity, 77. 
 
 Substance, vi, vii, 92 ff. ; aggre- 
 gate of single ideas, 93, 194, 
 196, 197 ff., 206, 222, 291, 306; 
 Complex idea of, 193, 196, 206, 
 22 3> 37; Corporeal, 196, 200; 
 Immaterial, 207 (see Mind, 
 Soul, Spirits); identity of, 238; 
 Knowledge of, 291, 307; No 
 distinct idea of, 93, 194, 196, 
 207, 208, 216, 217, 222; Three 
 kinds of, 238. 
 
 Substratum, 194, 197, 198, 222, 
 223. 
 
 Succession, 109; Idea of, 49. 
 
 Summum bonum, 167, 170. 
 
 Suspension of desire, 163, 166 ff., 
 169, 172. 
 
 Sydenham, Thomas, 13. 
 
 Tastes, 37, 82, 170; modes of, 115. 
 
 Thersites, 252 ff. 
 
 Things without us, 301 ; Existence 
 
 of, 331 ff., 336; Knowledge of, 
 
 330 ff.; Perception of, 282 ff. 
 Thinking, vi, 25, 44, 64, 129, 213; 
 
 an operation of the soul, 120; 
 
 Modes of, 118 ff. See also SouL 
 Time, Relations of, 234. 
 Touch, 37. 
 Tully, quoted, 318. 
 
 Understanding, 7, 17, 131, 133, 
 182; compared to a dark room, 
 90; Will and understanding two 
 powers, 130. 
 
 Uneasiness, 45, 123, 125; Causes 
 of, 173 ff. ; determines will, 123, 
 148 ff., 156, 159, 161, 162, 187. 
 
 Unity, Idea of, 48. 
 
 Universals, 85. 
 
 Vegetables, 70; Identity of, 240. 
 Volition, 131, 136, 146, 147, <" 
 
 also Will. 
 Voluntary, 131, 134. 
 
 See 
 
 Will, 44, 131, 133, 137 ff., 140, 
 142, 156, 187; confounded with 
 desire, 147, 149 ff. ; how deter- 
 mined, 144, 146, 148 ff., 156, 
 159, 162, 187; Object of, 157. 
 See also Volition. 
 
 Wit. 8 1. 
 
 Words, vi, vii, 313; Abuse of 13; 
 relative, 231, 237; Use of, 85. 
 
 * The term "soul" often used interchangeably with "spirit," e. g. 
 209 and 297. 
 
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