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MODERN CLASSICAL 
 PHILOSOPHERS 
 
 
 SELECTIONS 
 
 ILLUSTRATING MODERN PHILOSOPHY 
 FROM BRUNO TO SPENCER 
 
 COMPILED BY 
 
 BENJAMIN RAND, PH. D. 
 
 HARVARD UNIVERSITY 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
 

 ffv' 
 
 COPYRIGHT 1908 BY BENJAMIN RAND 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 'ill I 
 
PREFACE 
 
 " MODERN CLASSICAL PHILOSOPHERS " aims to present in a series 
 of extracts some of the essential features of the chief philoso- 
 phical systems produced by the great philosophers from Bruno 
 to Spencer. The book is virtually a history of modern philosophy 
 based not upon the customary description of systems, but upon 
 selections from original texts, and upon translations of the authors 
 themselves. The attempt has been made to apply the case sys- 
 tem, which has proved so successful in the teaching of law, to 
 philosophical instruction. In this respect the work follows the 
 model of the author's earlier publication in Economic History, 
 which was printed as a text book. of required reading to accom- 
 pany courses of lectures given on that subject in different uni- 
 versities. It is likewise hoped to provide the general reader with 
 a volume from which he may readily discover the content and 
 method of the great philosophical masters of the modern period. 
 Beginning with Bruno, the philosophical martyr, the dia- 
 logue which appears in this work is one in which the author 
 describes the unity and divine immanence in all things in the 
 universe, thereby anticipating the doctrine of Spinoza, From 
 Bacon has been selected an account of "the idols" or false notions 
 which hinder men from a right pursuit of scientific research, and 
 of the theory of induction by which they may advance in a true 
 interpretation of nature. The passages from Hobbes contain his 
 doctrine of the natural state of man as one of war, and of the 
 necessity of "that great Leviathan," whereby peace and order 
 may be established hi the political commonwealth. Of Des- 
 cartes, a part of the "Discourse on Method" is printed first, 
 since it contains his intellectual autobiography and his peculiar 
 principles of method for the attainment of truth; a transition 
 is then made to his " Meditations on First Philosophy," to set 
 forth the application of his method of doubt to the discovery of 
 absolute certainty, and also his attempt to demonstrate the 
 
vi PREFACE 
 
 existence of God. From "The Ethics" of Spinoza are given 
 the doctrines of his one eternal substance as the immanent cause 
 of the universe, of his three kinds of cognition, and of his intel- 
 lectual love of God. The "Monadology" of Leibnitz is repro- 
 duced in full. Of Locke, will be found the refutation of the 
 existence of innate ideas and principles, illustrative chapters 
 tracing the sources of all our knowledge to sensation and re- 
 flection, and a statement of the resultant extent and reality of 
 human knowledge. Berkeley's idealism, it was believed, could be 
 better learned by reproducing at some length his " Principles of 
 Human Knowledge" than by numerous extracts from his vari- 
 ous other writings. The philosophical significance of Hume in 
 this work is based on his doctrine that causality owes its origin 
 to habit, and on the consequent scepticism due to the limitation 
 of the causal idea to the realm of experienced The French philo- 
 sophy of the eighteenth century finds here its representative in 
 Condillac, whose work on the "Treatise of Sensations" contains 
 the noted description of the endowment of a marble statue with 
 the different senses of man in succession. Since the critical 
 philosophy of Kant may appropriately be regarded as the high- 
 water mark of modern philosophy, an effort has been made to 
 give an extended outline of his system through selections as 
 drawn from the "Critique of Pure Reason" and the "Critique 
 of Practical Reason." By extracts from some of their most 
 important treatises, Fichte's subjective idealism, Schelling's 
 objective idealism, and Hegel's absolute idealism, are set forth 
 with sufficient clearness, it is believed, to enable the student to 
 gain some just appreciation of these great doctrines. A section on 
 "Faith" from the "Vocation of Man" by Fichte, and a chapter 
 on " The Contrite Consciousness " from the " Phenomenology " of 
 Hegel, may serve to illustrate the noble and inspiring thought to 
 be found in German philosophy apart from its system-building. 
 The spirited writing of Schopenhauer, with its deep keynote of 
 pessimism, and its fine exaltation of art, is taken from his prin- 
 cipal work on "The World as Will and Idea." From Comte, 
 the founder of Positivism, has been chosen the chapter in 
 which he expounds the nature and importance of the positive 
 
PREFACE vii 
 
 philosophy. Possibly Mill may not be regarded by many as 
 strictly in the rank of classical philosophers, but it must be ad- 
 mitted by all that the theory, here reproduced, of the belief in 
 matter as dependent upon the permanent possibilities of sensa- 
 tions constitutes a classical chapter in the history of modern 
 philosophy. Spencer's doctrine of "The Unknowable" is very 
 briefly presented in harmony with his apparent intention of 
 merely paving the way for an exposition of "The Knowable." 
 With the statement of this philosophy of the knowable and with 
 Spencer's far-reaching law of evolution, this volume concludes. 
 
 In the selections of modern philosophy, as traced in the fore- 
 going paragraph, which are to be found in this book, certain 
 shortcomings due to the nature of the task are inevitable. No 
 two authorities will entirely agree as to the authors to be chosen. 
 Limitations as to the length of the work must exclude important 
 passages in the authors admitted. Although a proper balance 
 among the different writers is most desirable, yet the task must 
 be finished before a complete survey of their proper relations 
 can be correctly made. The book will, therefore, best realize its 
 final purpose if it shall prove a stimulus to the student for the 
 perusal of the complete works of the classical philosophers 
 represented in this volume. 
 
 The original texts reproduced in this book either have been 
 printed directly from the best available editions, or have been 
 carefully compared with them. Omissions from the various 
 texts are shown throughout by the retention of the numbers 
 accompanying the original chapters and paragraphs, and by 
 the use of dots when these numbers do not suffice. Footnotes 
 of the editor are indicated by signs, those of the authors or 
 translators* by numerals. Among the translations included in the 
 volume those from the writings of Bruno by Mrs. Josiah Royce 
 and Professor Royce, of Condillac by Professor F. C. de 
 Sumichrast, of Fichte and Schelling by the editor, and of Hegel 
 by Professor Royce appear here for the first time. Concerning 
 the other translations which have previously been published, 
 Descartes' "Method" and "Meditations" by J. Veitch, Spinoza's 
 " Ethics," by R. H. M. Elwes, Kant's " Critique of Pure Reason," 
 
viii PREFACE 
 
 by F. Max Miiller and his "Critique of Practical Reason" by 
 T. K. Abbott, Fichte's " Science of Knowledge " by A. E. Kroeger 
 and his " Vocation of Man" by Wm. Smith, Hegel's "Logic" 
 by Wm. Wallace, Schopenhauer's "World as Will and Idea," 
 by R. B. Haldane and J. Kemp, and Comte's "Positive Phil- 
 osophy," by Harriet Martineau, may fairly be said to have 
 translators almost as classical for the English readers of these 
 volumes as the original authors themselves. "Selections from 
 Kant," also, by Professor John Watson, from which, with his 
 kind permission, extracts have been here reproduced, is possibly 
 unexcelled among philosophical translations for combined 
 accuracy and literary skill. 
 
 This work was first planned more than a decade ago on the 
 publication of the several editions of the author's "Selections 
 illustrating Economic History;" but its final preparation has 
 been delayed by the years of labor required for his "Life, 
 Letters, and Philosophical Regimen of the Third Earl of 
 Shaftesbury" and his comprehensive "Bibliography of Philo- 
 sophy." Its resumption has on several occasions been urged by 
 Professor William James, owing to the success of the " Economic 
 History" in meeting a real need among students. His obliga- 
 tions in the completion of the work at the present time are of a 
 varied character. His thanks are first due to the publishers of 
 several philosophical books for the courtesy of their permission 
 to reprint the selections which constitute a number of the chap- 
 ters in this volume. The names of these publishers will be found 
 at the beginning of the respective chapters, accompanying the 
 titles of their published works. Valuable suggestions have also 
 been received from Professors Watson, James, Santayana, and 
 Calkins, the Rev. Dr. A. W. H. Eaton, and Mr. H. M. Sheffer. 
 Especially, however, does the author wish to express his grati- 
 tude for the constant philosophical advice of Professor Josiah 
 Royce, for the revision of his translation of Schelling by Dr. 
 Edmund von Mach, and for the assistance in the preparation of 
 the text by his brother, Mr. Frederic C. Rand. 
 
 BENJAMIN RANTX 
 EMERSON HALL, HARVARD UNIVERSITY. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 /I. GIORDANO BRUNO (1548-1600) 
 
 CONCERNING THE . CAUSE, THE PRINCIPLE, 
 
 AND THE ONE 1-23 
 
 Translated from the Italian by Josiah Royce and Katharine Royce. 
 
 SECOND DIALOGUE . . : i 
 
 IL FRANCIS BACON (1561-1626) 
 
 NOVUM ORGANUM 24-56 
 
 "THE IDOLS" 24 
 
 "INDUCTION" 48 
 
 ill. THOMAS HOBBES (1588-1679) 
 
 LEVIATHAN . . . . . 57-100 
 
 PART I. OF MAN 
 
 CHAP. I. OF SENSE 57 
 
 CHAP. II. OF IMAGINATION 59 
 
 CHAP. III. OF THE CONSEQUENCE OR TRAIN OF 
 
 IMAGINATIONS 64 
 
 CHAP. V. OF REASON AND SCIENCE 69 
 
 CHAP. VI. OF VOLUNTARY MOTIONS COMMONLY 
 
 CALLED PASSIONS 76 
 
 CHAP. XIII. OF THE NATURAL CONDITION OF MANKIND 80 
 CHAP. XIV. OF THE FIRST AND SECOND NATURAL 
 
 LAWS AND OF CONTRACTS 84 
 
 CHAP. XV. OF OTHER LAWS OF NATURE .... 88 
 
 PART II. OF COMMONWEALTH 
 
 CHAP. XVII. OF THE CAUSES, GENERATION, AND DEFI- 
 NITION OF A COMMONWEALTH 96 
 
 TV. RENE DESCARTES (1596-1650) 
 
 DISCOURSE ON METHOD. (Parts I-II) .... 101-116 
 
 Translated from the French by John Veitch. 
 
 MEDITATIONS ON THE FIRST PHILOSOPHY 117-147 
 Translated from the French by John Veitch. 
 
 MEDITATION I. OF THE THINGS OF WHICH WE MAY 
 
 DOUBT 117 
 
 MEDITATION II. OF THE NATURE OF THE HUMAN MIND 1.22 
 MEDITATION III. OF GOD, THAT HE EXISTS . . . . 132 
 
x CONTENTS 
 
 yV. BARUCH DE SPINOZA (1632-1677) 
 
 THE ETHICS I4 8- I9 8 
 
 Translated from the Latin by R. H. M. El-wes. 
 
 PART I. CONCERNING GOD (Prop, i-xxxvi) . . 148 
 PART II. OF THE NATURE AND ORIGIN OF THE MIND 
 
 (Prop, i-xi, XXXH-XXXVI, XL-XLIX) .... 166 
 PART V. OF THE POWER OF THE UNDERSTANDING, 
 OR OF HUMAN FREEDOM (Prop, i-vi, XIV-XLII) 181 
 
 VI. GOTTFRIED WILHELM VON LEIBNITZ 
 
 (1646-1716) 
 
 THE MONADOLOGY 199-214 
 
 Translated from the French by Frederic H. Hedge. 
 
 VII. JOHN LOCKE (1632-1704) 
 
 AN ESSAY CONCERNING HUMAN UNDER- 
 STANDING 215-262 
 
 BOOK I. OF INNATE PRINCIPLES. 
 
 CHAP. I. INTRODUCTION 215 
 
 CHAP. II. No INNATE SPECULATIVE PRINCIPLES . 217 
 CHAP. III. No INNATE PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES . 221 
 
 BOOK II. OF IDEAS 
 
 CHAP. I. OF IDEAS IN GENERAL 226 
 
 CHAP. II. OF SIMPLE IDEAS 229 
 
 CHAP. III. OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF SENSE 230 
 
 CHAP. IV. IDEA OF SOLIDITY 231 
 
 CHAP. VI. OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF REFLECTION . . . 235 
 CHAP. VII. OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF BOTH SENSATION 
 
 AND REFLECTION ; . . . 235 
 
 CHAP. VIII. FARTHER CONSIDERATIONS CONCERNING 
 
 OUR SIMPLE IDEAS OF SENSATION 237 
 
 CHAP. IX. OF PERCEPTION 242 
 
 CHAP. XII. OF COMPLEX IDEAS 245 
 
 CHAP. XXIII. OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF SUBSTANCES . 248 
 
 BOOK IV. OF KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 CHAP. III. OF THE EXTENT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 254 
 
 CHAP. IV. OF THE REALITY OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 257 
 
 VIII. GEORGE BERKELEY (1685-1753) 
 
 A TREATISE CONCERNING THE PRINCIPLES 
 
 OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE . . 263-306 
 
CONTENTS xi 
 
 IX. DAVID HUME (1711-1766) 
 
 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING HUMAN UNDER- 
 STANDING 307-346 
 
 SECTION II. OF THE ORIGIN OF IDEAS 307 
 
 SECTION III. OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS ... 312 
 
 SECTION IV. SCEPTICAL DOUBTS CONCERNING THE 
 
 OPERATIONS OF THE UNDERSTANDING 313 
 
 SECTION VII. OF THE IDEA OF NECESSARY CONNEXION 326 
 SECTION XII. OF THE ACADEMICAL OR SCEPTICAL PHI- 
 LOSOPHY 342 
 
 X. ETIENNE BONNOT DE CONDILLAC 
 
 (1715-1780) 
 
 TREATISE ON SENSATIONS 347~375 
 
 Translated from the French by Frederick C. de Sumichrast. 
 CHAP. I-VII. FIRST NOTIONS, DESIRES, WILL AND 
 PERSONALITY, OF A MAN LIMITED TO SENSE OF 
 SMELL 347 
 
 XI. IMMANUEL KANT (1724-1804) 
 
 CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 376-405 
 
 Selections translated from the German by John Watson. 
 
 TRANSCENDENTAL ./ESTHETIC 381 
 
 TRANSCENDENTAL ANALYTIC 
 BOOK I. ANALYTIC OF CONCEPTIONS . ... . . . 392 
 
 CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON [continued] . . . 406-456 
 Translated from the German by F. Max Miiller. 
 
 BOOK II. ANALYTIC OF PRINCIPLES 406 
 
 CHAP. I. SCHEMATISM OF PURE CONCEPTS . . . 407 
 CHAP. II. PRINCIPLES OF PURE UNDERSTANDING . 408 
 CHAP. III. DISTINCTION OF PHENOMENA AND Nou- 
 
 MENA 420 
 
 TRANSCENDENTAL DIALECTIC 
 
 CHAP. I. PARALOGISMS OF PURE REASON ... 426 
 
 CHAP. II. ANTINOMY OF PURE REASON .... 431 
 
 CHAP. III. THE IDEAL OF PURE REASON .... 446 
 
 CRITIQUE OF PRACTICAL REASON 457-485 
 
 Translated from the German by Thomas Kingsmill Abbott. 
 
 BOOK I. THE ANALYTIC OF PRACTICAL REASON . 457 
 BOOK II. THE DIALECTIC OF PRACTICAL REASON . 471 
 
 XII. JOHANN GOTTLIEB FICHTE (1762-1814) 
 FIRST INTRODUCTION INTO THE SCIENCE OF 
 
 KNOWLEDGjta| 486-496 
 
 Translated from m^rerman by Benjamin Rand. 
 
xii CONTENTS 
 
 THE SCIENCE OF KNOWLEDGE 497~5i5 
 
 Translated from the German by A. E. Kroeger. 
 
 "THE FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLES OF KNOWLEDGE" . 407 
 
 THE VOCATION OF MAN 5*6-534 
 
 Translated from the German by William Smith. 
 
 BOOK III. FAITH 516 
 
 XIII. FRIEDRICH WILHELM VON SCHELLING 
 
 (1775-1854) 
 
 SYSTEM OF TRANSCENDENTAL IDEALISM. 535-568 
 Translated from the German by Benjamin Rand. 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO IDEALISM _ 535 
 
 I. THE PRINCIPLE OF TRANSCENDENTAL IDEALISM 
 
 XIV. GEORG WILHELM F. HEGEL (1770-1831) 
 
 THE LOGIC OF HEGEL 569-613; 
 
 Translated from the German by William Wallace. 
 
 CHAP. I. INTRODUCTION 569 
 
 CHAP. II. PRELIMINARY NOTION 574 
 
 CHAP. VI. LOGIC FURTHER DEFINED AND DIVIDED 578 
 
 CHAP. VII. THE DOCTRINE OF BEING .... 583 
 
 CHAP. VIII. THE DOCTRINE OF ESSENCE .... 592 
 
 CHAP. IX. THE DOCTRINE OF THE NOTION . . 604 
 
 THE PHENOMENOLOGY OF THE SPIRIT. . 614-628 
 
 Translated from the German by Josiah Royce. 
 THE CONTRITE CONSCIOUSNESS 614 
 
 XV. ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER (1788-1860) 
 
 THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA .... 629-671 
 Translated from the German by R. B. Haldane and J. Kemp. 
 
 BOOK I. THE WORLD AS IDEA, 1-5 629 
 
 BOOK II. OBJECTIFICATION OF THE WILL 17-25 . 639 
 
 BOOK III. PLATONIC IDEA: THE OBJECT OF ART, 32-36 651 
 
 BOOK IV. ASSERTION AND DENIAL OF THE WILL 57-68 658 
 
 XVI. AUGUSTE COMTE (1798-1857) 
 
 THE POSITIVE PHILOSOPHY 672-689 
 
 Translated from the French by Harriet Martineau. 
 
 CHAP. I. VIEW OF THE NATTfBMtosrD IMPORTANCE 
 OF THE POSITIVE PHILOSOPHY 672 
 
CONTENTS xiii 
 
 XVII. JOHN STUART MILL (1806-1873) 
 
 AN EXAMINATION OF SIR WILLIAM HAM- 
 ILTON'S PHILOSOPHY 690-702 
 
 CHAP. XL THE PSYCHOLOGICAL THEORY OF 
 
 THE BELIEF IN AN EXTERNAL WORLD . . 690 
 XVIII. HERBERT SPENCER (1820-1903) 
 
 FIRST PRINCIPLES OF A NEW SYSTEM OF 
 
 PHILOSOPHY 703-732 
 
 PART I. THE UNKNOWABLE, 31 . . . 703 
 PART II. THE KNOWABLE 
 
 CHAP. I. PHILOSOPHY DEFINED 708 
 
 CHAP. XIV-XVII. THE LAW OF EVOLUTION . 714 
 
 INDEX 733 
 
MODERN CLASSICAL 
 PHILOSOPHERS 
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO 
 
 (1548-1600) 
 
 CONCERNING THE CAUSE, THE PRINCIPLE, 
 AND THE ONE 
 
 Translated from the Italian* by 
 JOSIAH ROYCE and KATHARINE ROYCE 
 
 SECOND DIALOGUE 1 
 
 AURELIUS DlXON 
 
 THEOPHILUS 
 PERSONAGES -I _ 
 
 GERVASIUS 
 
 POLYHYMNIUS 
 
 Diocon. Have the kindness, Master Polyhymnius, and you 
 too, Gervasius, not to interrupt our discourse further. 
 
 Polyhymnius. So be it. 
 
 Gervasius. If he who is the master speaks, surely I shall be 
 unable to keep silence. 
 
 Dix. Then you say, Theophilus, that everything which is not 
 a first principle and a first cause/ has such a principle and such 
 a cause? 
 
 Theophilus. Without doubt and without the least controversy. 
 
 Dix. Do you believe; accordingly, that whoever knows the 
 
 * From Delia causa, principio, ed uno. Venet. [or London], 1584. 
 
 1 The dialogues which constitute this work, Delia causa, etc., are the product 
 of an effort to state a thought which Bruno felt to be his own, under the lim- 
 itations of language imposed by the current scholastic terminology, and espe- 
 cially by the traditional Aristotelian distinctions of form and matter, of final 
 and efficient cause, of potentia, or possibility, of actus, or actuality, etc. These 
 distinctions ought to be in the student's mind as he reads the dialogue. But 
 the historical phraseology is in general rather an encumbrance 'than an aid 
 
2 BRUNO 
 
 things thus caused and originated must know the ultimate cause 
 and principle? 
 
 Theo. Not easily the proximate cause or the proximate prin- 
 ciple; it would be extremely difficult to recognize even the traces 
 of an ultimate cause and creative principle. 
 
 Dix. Then how do you think that those things which have a 
 first and a proximate cause and principle can be really known, 
 if their efficient cause (which is one^of the things which contribute 
 to the true cognition of things) is hidden? 
 
 Theo. I grant you that it is easy to set forth the theory of proof, 
 but the proof itself is difficult. It is very practicable to set forth 
 the causes, circumstances, and methods of sciences; but after- 
 ward our method-makers and analytical scholars can use but 
 awkwardly their organum, the principles of their methods, and 
 their arts of arts. 
 
 Gerv. Like those who know how to make fine swords, but do 
 not know how to use them. 
 * Poly. Aye, aye. 1 
 
 Gerv. May your eyes be closed so that you may never be able 
 to open them. 
 
 Theo. I should say, then, that one should not expect the natural 
 
 to Bruno. The central thought of the dialogue does not lie, again, in that dis- 
 tinction between Cause and Principle which Bruno here advances as his own. 
 Rather is the unity of the universal world-form, and of the world-soul, the 
 central topic. While this doctrine of the unity of all things, and of the imma- 
 nence of the world-soul and of the world-form in every being, is expounded 
 in this dialogue rather as an intuition than as a demonstrable assertion, Bruno 
 here makes prominent, in one striku^ passage, a practical motive -which in his 
 own mind is central. The individual should leam so 10 view iiinisel., and to 
 feel himself as one with the World-Soul, that the individual is relieved from 
 all fear of death. What is valuable about any being is that it expresses, in some 
 accidental and possibly transient form, the one meaning which is equally ex- 
 pressed in the whole world and in every part. This meaning cannot perish, 
 is divine, and is ill described by any such view of nature as Bruno attributes 
 to the Peripatetics. Bruno's method in this dialogue of first insisting upon dis- 
 tinctions and divisions, and then showing that they are relative and of partial 
 significance must also be borne in mind throughout. With this Dialogue like- 
 wise read chapter ii, part ii, of J. Lewis Mclntyre's Giordano Bruno, London, 
 1903. 
 
 1 In the original the play upon words occurs thus : 
 
 Polinnio. Ferm ! 
 
 Gervasius. Fermati te siano gl' occbi. 
 
OF CAUSE, PRINCIPLE, AND THE ONE 3 
 
 philosopher to make plain all causes and principles; but only 
 the physical, and only the principal and most essential of these. 
 And although these depend upon the first cause and first princi- 
 ple, and can be said to possess such a cause and principle, this 
 is, in any case, not such a necessary relation that from the know- 
 ledge of the one the knowledge of the other would follow; and 
 therefore one should not expect that in the same science both 
 should be set forth. 
 
 Dioc. How is that? 
 
 Theo. Because from the cognition of all dependent things, we 
 are unable to infer other knowledge of first cause and principle, 
 than by the somewhat inefficacious method of traces. All things 
 are, indeed, derived from the Creator's will or goodness, which 
 is the principle of His works, and from which proceeds the uni- 
 versal effect. The same consideration arises in the case of works 
 of art, in so much as he who sees the statue does not see the 
 sculptor; he who sees the portrait of Helen does not see Apelles: 
 but he sees only the result of the work which comes from the 
 merit and genius of Apelles. This work is entirely an effect 
 of the accidents and circumstances of the substance of that 
 man, who, as to his absolute essence, is not in the least known. 
 
 Dioc. So that to know the universe is like knowing nothing of 
 the being and substance of the first principle, because it is like 
 knowing the accidents of the accidents. 
 
 Theo. Exactly, but I would not have you imagine that I mean 
 that in God himself there are Accidents, or that He could be 
 known, as it were, by His Accidents. 
 
 Dioc. I do not attribute to you so crude a thought, and I know 
 that it is one thing to say that the things extraneous to the divine 
 nature are accidents, another thing to say that they are His 
 Accidents, and yet another thing to say that they are, as it 
 were. His Accidents: By the last way of speaking I believe you 
 mean that they are the effects of the divine activity; but that 
 these effects, in so far as they may be the substance of things, 
 and even the natural substances themselves, in any case are, as it 
 were, the remotest accidents whereby we merely touch an appre- 
 hension of the divine supernatural essence. 
 
4 BRUNO 
 
 Theo. Well said. 
 
 Dix. Behold, then, of the divine substance, as well because it is 
 infinite as because it is extremely remote from its effects (while 
 these effects are the furthest boundary of the source gf our 
 reasoning faculties), we can know nothing, unless through 
 the means of traces, as the Platonists say, of remote effects, as 
 the Peripatetic philosophers say, of the dress or outer covering, 
 as say the Cabalists, of the mere shoulders and back, as the Tal- 
 mudists say, 1 or of the mirror, the shadow, the enigma, as the 
 Apocalyptic writers say. 
 
 Theo. All the more is this the case because we do not see 
 perfectly this universe whose substance and principle are so diffi- 
 cult of comprehension. And thus it follows that with far less 
 ground can we know the first principle and cause through its 
 effect, than Apelles may be known through the statue he has 
 made. For the statue all may see and examine, part by part; but 
 not so the grand and infinite effect of the Divine Power. There- 
 fore our simile should be understood not as a matter of close 
 comparison. 
 
 Dix. Thus it is, and thus I understand it. 
 
 Theo. It would be well, then, to abstain from speaking of so 
 lofty a matter. 
 
 Dix. I agree to that, because it suffices, morally and theologi- 
 cally, to know the first principle in so far as higher spirits have 
 revealed it, and divine men have declared it. Beyond this point, 
 not only whatever Law and Theology you will, but also all 
 wise philosophy has held it as a profane and turbulent dispo- 
 sition, to rush into demanding reasons and definitions for such 
 things as are above the sphere of our intelligence. 
 
 Theo. Very good : but these do not deserve blame so much as 
 those deserve praise who struggle towards the knowledge of that 
 cause and principle; who learn its grandeur as much as possi- 
 ble by allowing the eyes of their well-regulated minds to roam 
 amongst yonder magnificent stars, those luminous bodies 
 which are so many habitable worlds, vast and animate, and are 
 most excellent deities. These seem, and are, countless worlds 
 
 1 Cf. Exodus xxxiii, 18-23. 
 
OF CAUSE, PRINCIPLE, AND THE ONE 5 
 
 not unlike that which contains us. It is impossible that these 
 can have their existence of themselves, considering that they are 
 composite and dissoluble (although not for that reason do they 
 deserve annihilation, as has been well said in the Timaeus). It 
 is needful that they should know their principle and cause ; and 
 consequently with the grandeur of their existence, of their life 
 and of their works, they show and set forth, in infinite space, 
 with innumerable voices the infinite excellence and majesty of 
 their first principle and cause. l Leaving then (as you say) those 
 considerations in so far as they are superior to all sense and in- 
 tellect, we will consider that principle and cause in so far as, in 
 its traces, it either, is identical with nature itself, or lies revealed 
 to us in the extent and in the lap of nature. Question me, then, 
 in order, if you wish me to answer you in order. 
 
 Dix. I will do so. But first, since you constantly speak of 
 Cause and Principle, I should like to know whether those are 
 used by you as synonymous words? 
 
 Theo. No. 
 
 Dix. Then what difference is there between the one and the 
 other term? 
 
 Theo. I answer that when we speak of God as first principle 
 and first cause, we mean one and the same thing but from differ- . 
 ent points of view; when we speak of principles and causes in 
 Nature, we speak of different things from different points of 
 view. We speak of God as the first principle inasmuch as all 
 things come only after Him in an ordered rank of before and 
 after, either according to their nature, or according to their dura- 
 tion, or according to their value. We call God the first cause, in 
 so far as all things are distinct from Him, as the effect from the 
 efficient, the thing produced from that which produced it. And 
 these two points of view are different, because not everything 
 which comes first and is of more value is the cause of that which 
 comes later and is of less value; and not everything which is 
 
 1 Cf. the well-known words of the hymn: 
 
 To reason's ear they all proclaim 
 The glories of their Maker's name, 
 Forever singing as they shine, 
 The Hand that made us is divine. 
 
6 BRUNO 
 
 the cause is prior to and of more worth than that which is caused, 
 as will be plain to him who reflects carefully. 
 
 Dix. Then tell me, in speaking of natural things, what is the 
 difference Between cause and principle ? 
 
 Theo. Although at times the one term is used in place of the 
 other, nevertheless, properly speaking, not everything which is a 
 principle is a cause, because a point is the principle of a line, 
 but it is not the cause of the line; trie instant is the principle of 
 temporal activity, the place whence is the principle of the mo- 
 tion, the premises are the principle of the argument, but they 
 are not the cause. Therefore principle is a more general term 
 than cause. 
 
 Dix. Then restricting these two terms to certain special sig- 
 nifications, according to the custom of those who reform their 
 terminology, I believe you to mean that Principle is that which 
 intrinsically brings to pass the constitution of things, and 
 which remains in what it has produced. Thus, for instance, 
 matter and form remain in their composite; or again, the ele- 
 ments of which things have been composed, and into which they 
 tend to resolve themselves again, are principles. You call Cause 
 that which operates from without in the production of things, 
 and which has its being outside of the things produced, as is the 
 case with the efficient cause, and the end for which the thing 
 produced is ordained. 
 
 Theo. Very good. 
 
 Dix. Since, then, we have come to an understanding concern- 
 ing the difference between those things, I wish you to devote 
 your attention first to the Causes and then to the Principles. And 
 as to the Causes, I desire first to know about the first efficient 
 cause, about the formal cause, which you say is conjoined to the 
 efficient; and, lastly, about the final cause, which is understood 
 to be the power which moves this. 
 
 Theo. The order of discourse which you propose pleases me 
 much. Now as to the efficient cause : I assert that the universal 
 physical efficient cause is the universal Intellect, which is the 
 first and principal faculty of the world-soul and which is the 
 universal form of the Cosmos. 
 
OF CAUSE, PRINCIPLE, AND THE ONE 7 
 
 Dix. Your thought appears to me to be not only in agreement 
 with that of Empedocles, but more certain, more distinct, and 
 more explicit, and also (in so far as I can see from the above) 
 more profound : yet you will give me pleasure if you will explain 
 the whole more in detail, beginning by informing me just what 
 is that universal intellect. 
 
 Theo. The universal intellect is the most intimate, real, and 
 essential faculty and effective part of the world- soul. This is 
 one and the same thing which fills the whole, illumines the 
 universe and directs nature to produce the various species as is 
 fitting, and has the same relation to the production of natural 
 things as our intellect to the parallel production of our general 
 ideas. 1 This is called by the Pythagoreans the moving spirit 
 and propelling power of the universe; as saith the poet, "To- 
 tamque infusa per artus, mens agitat molem, et toto se corpore 
 miscet." 2 This is called by the Platonic philosophers the world- 
 builder. This builder (they say) proceeds from the higher world 
 (which is, in fact, one) to this world of sense, which is divided 
 into many, and in which not only harmony but also discord 
 reigns, because it is sundered into parts. This intellect, infusing 
 and extending something of its own into matter, restful and 
 moveless in itself, produces all things. By the Magi this intelli- 
 gence is called most fruitful of seeds, or even the seed-sower, 
 since it is He who impregnates matter with all its forms, and 
 according to the type and condition of these succeeds in shap- 
 ing, forming, and arranging all in such admirable order, as 
 cannot be attributed to chance, or to any principle which cannot 
 consciously distinguish or arrange. Orpheus calls this Intellect 
 the eye of the world, because it sees all natural objects, both 
 within and without, in order that all things may succeed in 
 producing and maintaining themselves in their proper sym- 
 
 1 The reference is to a well-known scholastic parallel of the universals present 
 in things and the universals present in our minds when we form our ideas of 
 natural classes. The universal Intellect is related to the production of natural 
 forms, or species, as our mind is related to the production of our ideas of these 
 species. 
 
 2 Infused through the members, mind vitalizes the whole mass and is mingled 
 with the whole body. 
 
8 BRUNO 
 
 metry, not only intrinsically but also extrinsically. By Em- 
 pedocles it is called the Distinguisher, since it never wearies of 
 unfolding the confused forms within the breast of matter or of 
 calling forth the birth of one thing from the corruption of an- 
 other. Plotinus calls it the father and progenitor, because it 
 distributes seeds throughout the field of nature, and is the proxi- 
 mate dispenser of forms. By us this Intellect is called the inner 
 artificer, because it forms and shapes material objects from 
 within, as from within the seed or the root is sent forth and 
 unfolded the trunk, from within the trunk are put forth the 
 branches, from within the branches the finished twigs, and from 
 within the twigs unfurl the buds, and there within are woven 
 like nerves, leaves, flowers and fruits; and inversely, at certain 
 times the sap is recalled from the flowers and fruits to the twigs, 
 from the twigs to the branches, from the branches to the trunk, 
 and from the trunk to the root. Just so it is with animals; its 
 work proceeding from the original seed, and from the centre 
 of the heart, to the external members, and from these finally 
 gathering back to the heart the unfolded powers, it behaves as if 
 again knotting together spun-out threads. Now, since we believe 
 that even inanimate works, such as we know how to produce with 
 a certain order, imitatively working on the surface of matter, are 
 not produced without forethought and mind, as when, cutting 
 and sculpturing a piece of wood, we bring forth the effigy of a 
 horse : how much greater must we believe is that creative intel- 
 ligence which, from the interior of the germinal matter, brings 
 forth the bones, extends the cartilage, hollows out the arteries, 
 breathes into the pores, weaves the fibres, forms the branching 
 nerves, and with such admirable mastery arranges the whole? 
 I say, how much greater an artificer is He who is not restricted 
 to one sole part of the material world, but operates continually 
 throughout the whole. There are three sorts of intelligence; 
 the divine, which is all things, the mundane which makes all 
 things, and the other kinds of spirits which become everything. 
 For it is needful that between the extremes the means should be 
 found, which is the true efficient cause, not so much extrinsic as 
 even intrinsic, of all natural things. 
 
OF CAUSE, PRINCIPLE, AND THE ONE 9 
 
 Dioc. I should like to see you distinguish, as you understand 
 them, extrinsic cause and intrinsic cause. 
 
 Theo. I call a cause extrinsic when as an efficient it does not 
 form a part of the things compounded and produced. I call a 
 cause intrinsic in so far as it does not operate around and out- 
 side of objects, but in the manner just explained. Hence a cause 
 is extrinsic by being distinct from tWfe substance and essence of 
 its effects, and therefore its existence is not like that of things 
 that are generated and decay, although it embraces such things. 
 A cause is intrinsic with respect to the actuality of its own work- 
 ings. 
 
 Dix. It seems to me that you have talked enough about the 
 efficient cause. Now I should like to know what sort of thing you 
 take to be the formal cause joined to the efficient cause; is it per- 
 haps the ideal ground ? Because every agent that works accord- 
 ing to the rule of intelligence will be unable to produce effects 
 unless according to some intention, and that intention is not with- 
 out the apprehension of something; and that is no other than 
 the form of the thing to be produced. And thus also with that 
 intellect which has the power to produce all species, and to send 
 them forth with such beautiful construction from the potentiality 
 of matter into actual existence, it must be that that intelligence 
 fore-knows all, according to certain formal principles, without 
 which it could not proceed to make these things, just as it is im- 
 possible for the sculptor to execute diverse statues without having 
 first thought out diverse forms. 
 
 Theo. You understand this excellently well: since I desire 
 that two sorts of form should be considered. 1 One which is the ^r 
 cause, not exactly the efficient cause, but that through which the 
 efficient cause produces its effects. The other is the principle, 
 which by the efficient is called forth from matter. 
 
 Dix. The aim, and the final cause for which the efficient is 
 working, is the perfection of the universe, which implies that in 
 
 1 The thought is that the intelligence is guided in each of its productions by 
 the model which some ideal species sets before it that is, by the form or ideal 
 type of some class of objects. Meanwhile, the intellect is also guided by the 
 great final cause, the perfection of the universe. Thus two types of formal 
 causes are distinguished, both from each other and from the efficient cause. 
 
io BRUNO 
 
 diverse portions of matter all forms are actually existent. In 
 this end the intellect takes such great pleasure and delight that 
 it never wearies of calling forth all sorts of forms from matter, 
 as it appears that Empedocles also would have it. 
 
 Theo. Very well. Now I add to this that just as this efficient 
 cause is omnipresent in the universe, and is special and particu- 
 lar in the parts and members thereof, just so its form and its 
 purpose. 
 
 Dix. Now, enough has been said about causes; let us proceed 
 to the discussion of principles. 
 
 Theo. In order, then, to get at the constitutive principles of 
 things, I will next discuss form. For this is in some sort the 
 same as the aforesaid efficient cause ; since the intelligence which 
 is a power of the world- soul has been called the proximate effi- 
 cient cause of all natural things. 
 
 Dioc. But how can the same subject be at once principle and 
 cause of natural things? How can it have the definition of an 
 intrinsic part instead of an extrinsic part? 
 
 Theo. I declare that this is not incongruous,' considering that 
 the soul is within the body as the pilot is within the ship. And 
 the pilot, in so far as he shares the motion of the ship, is a part 
 of it. Yet considered in so far as he guides and moves it, he is not 
 regarded as a part, but as a distinct efficient cause. Just so the 
 soul of the universe, in so far as it animates and informs things, 
 is an intrinsic and formal part of that universe. But in so far as 
 it directs and governs, it is not a part, it does not rank as a prin- 
 ciple, but as a cause. Aristotle himself grants this, who, never- 
 theless, denies that the soul has that relation to the body which 
 the steersman has to the ship: yet considering it with regard to 
 that power which thinks and knows, he does not dare to call it a 
 perfection and form of the body; but he considers it as an efficient 
 cause, separate in essence from matter. He says that that is a 
 thing which comes from without, self- existent and separated 
 from the composite. 
 
 Dix. I approve what you say, because if that existence sepa- 
 rate from the body belongs to the intellectual powers of our minds, 
 and if this intellectual power has the value of an efficient cause, 
 
OF CAUSE, PRINCIPLE, AND THE ONE n 
 
 much more should the same be affirmed concerning the Soul of 
 the World. Because Plotinus says, writing against the Gnostics, 
 that the Universal Soul rules the universe with much greater ease 
 than our souls rule our bodies. Besides there is a great difference 
 in the way in which the one and the other rules. The World- 
 Soul, as if unbound, rules the world in such a way that it is not 
 hampered by that which it controls, and does not suffer from, 
 nor with other things. It rises without effort to lofty things. 
 In giving life and perfection to the body, it does not itself take 
 any taint of imperfection from that body; and therefore it is 
 eternally conjoined with the same subject. The human soul is 
 manifestly in quite the contrary condition. Since then, according 
 to your principles, the perfections which exist in our inferior 
 natures, in a far higher degree should be attributed to, and per- 
 ceived in, superior natures, we ought doubtless to confirm the 
 distinction which you have brought out. But we must recognize 
 this not only in the Soul of the world, but also in every star. 
 For it is the case (as the aforesaid philosopher holds), that they 
 all have the power of contemplating God, the principles (sources) 
 of all things and the arrangement of all parts of the universe. He 
 does not indeed think that this takes place through memory, 
 reasoning, and consideration; because each of their works is an 
 eternal work, and there is no action which can be new to them, 
 and therefore they do nothing which is not fitting to the whole, 
 perfect, and with a certain and preordained order, and they 
 accomplish all without an act of consideration. Aristotle shows 
 -this by using the example of a perfect writer, or zither- player. 
 While in this case nature does not reason or reflect, he does not 
 wish it to be concluded that she works without intelligence and 
 final intention j because exquisite writers and musicians pay less 
 attention to what they are doing, and yet do not blunder like the 
 inexpert and clumsy, who while thinking and attending more, 
 yet accomplish their work less perfectly, and not without blun- 
 ders. 
 
 Theo. You understand me. Let us now pass on to the more spe- 
 cial. It seems to me that they detract from the divine goodness 
 and from the excellence of that great soul and simulacrum of the 
 
n BRUNO 
 
 first principle, who will not understand nor affirm that the world 
 with all its members is animate. How should God be envious 
 of his image, or how should the architect not love his own indi- 
 vidual work, of whom Plato says that he takes pleasure in his 
 work because of his own similitude which he admires in it. And 
 truly, what more beautiful than this universe could be presented 
 to the eyes of the Deity? And it being the case that this consists 
 of its parts, to which of these should more be imparted than to 
 the formal principle ? I will leave for a better and more particu- 
 lar discourse a thousand natural reasons beyond this topical or 
 logical one. 
 
 Dix. I do not care to have you exert yourself in that direction^ 
 considering that there is no philosopher of any reputation, even 
 among the Peripatetics, who does not hold that the Universe 
 and its spheres are in some way animated. I should now be glad 
 to know in what manner you hold that this form makes its way 
 into the material of the universe? 
 
 Theo. It joins itself to it in such a manner that corporeal 
 nature, which in itself is not beautiful, in so far as it is capable 
 of it, shares the beauty of the soul, since there is no beauty which 
 does not consist of some figure or form, and no form which has 
 not been produced by a soul. 
 
 Dix. I seem to be hearing an entirely new thing. You hold 
 perhaps that not only the form of the Universe, but all forms of 
 natural objects are souls? 
 
 Theo. Yes. 
 
 Dix. Have all things, then, souls? 
 
 Theo. Yes. 
 
 Dix. But who will grant you this? 
 
 Theo. But who with reason will be able to gainsay it ? 
 
 Dix. According to common sense, not all things are alive. 
 
 Theo. The commonest sense is not the truest. 
 
 Dix. I easily believe that that can be defended. But the fact 
 that a thing can be defended does not suffice to make it true; 
 considering that it also must be proved. 
 
 Theo. That is not difficult. Are there not philosophers who 
 say that the world has a soul ? 
 
OF CAUSE, PRINCIPLE, AND THE ONE 13 
 
 Dix. There surely are many, and very notable ones. 
 
 Theo. Then why do not the same philosophers say that all the 
 parts of the world have souls? 
 
 Dix. They surely do say that, but only concerning the most 
 important parts, and those which are true parts of the world. 
 Since with no less ground they hold that the soul is no less omni- 
 present throughout the world and in every conceivable part of it, 
 than the souls of living beings perceptible to us are completely 
 present throughout them. 
 
 Theo. Then what things do you think are not true parts of the 
 Universe ? 
 
 Dix. Those that are not what the Peripatetics call primal 
 bodies, such as the earth, together with the waters and other parts, 
 which, according to your statement, constitute the complete 
 animate organism; or such as the moon, the sun, and other heav- 
 enly bodies. Beside these principal animate organisms there are 
 those which are not primary parts of the universe, of which some 
 are said to have a vegetative soul, some a sensitive soul, others 
 an intellectual soul. 
 
 Theo. Yet, if accordingly the soul which is in everything, is 
 also in the parts of everything, why do you not hold that it is in 
 the parts of the parts? 
 
 Dix. It may be, but in the parts of the parts of animate things. 
 
 Theo. Now what things are there which are not animate, or 
 are not parts of animate things? 
 
 Dix. Does it seem to you that we have so few such things 
 before our eyes? All things which have not life. 
 
 Theo. And what are the things that have not life, at least the 
 vital principle? 
 
 Dix. To come to an understanding, do you hold that there 
 may be any things which may not have soul and which may 
 not have the vital principle? 
 
 Theo. That, in fine, is what I hold. 
 
 Pol. Then a lifeless body has a soul? Then my shoes, my 
 slippers, my boots, my spurs, my ring and my gloves have souls ? 
 My coat and mantle have souls? 
 
 Gerv. Yes, sir; yes, Master Polyhymnius, why not? I well 
 
i 4 BRUNO 
 
 believe that your coat and mantle are thoroughly animated 
 when they have such an animal as you inside them. The boots 
 and spurs are animated when they contain the feet, the hat is 
 animated when it contains the head, which latter is not without 
 a soul, and the stall is animated when it contains the horse, the 
 mule, or even your lordship. Do you not think so, Theophilus ? 
 Does it not seem to you that I have understood better than the 
 dominus magister? 
 
 Pol. Cujum pecus (whose cattle) ? As if there were not asses 
 who are subtle with etiam atque etiam (also and also). How 
 dare you, you trifler, you a-b-c-darian, compare yourself with a 
 head-teacher and guide of the school of Minerva like me? 
 
 Gerv. 1 Pax vobis domine magister, servus servorum, et scabel- 
 lum pedum tuorum. 
 
 Pol. Maledicat te Deus in saecula saeculorum. 
 
 Dix. No quarreling ! Let these matters be settled by us. 
 
 Pol. 2 Prosequatur ergo sua dogmata Theophilus. 
 
 Theo. I will do so. I say, then, that the table as a table is 
 not animate, nor the garments, nor the leather as leather, nor 
 the glass as glass, but as natural things and composites they 
 have within themselves matter and form. Let a thing be even 
 as small and tiny as you will, it has within itself some portion 
 of spiritual substance, which, if it finds a fitting vehicle, unfolds 
 itself so as to become a plant, or an animal, and receives the 
 members of whatsoever body you will, such as is commonly 
 said to be animated, because spirit is found in all things, and 
 there is not the least corpuscle which does not contain within 
 itself some portion that may become living. 
 
 Pol. s Ergo quidquid est animal est. 
 
 Theo. Not all things which have soul are called animate. 
 
 Dix. Then, at least, all things have life? 
 
 Theo. I grant that all things contain within themselves a 
 soul and have the essentials of life. I do not assert that all things 
 
 1 Gerv. Peace be with you, lord and master, I am the servant of your ser- 
 vants, and the footstool for your feet. 
 
 Pol. The Lord curse you, world without end. 
 
 2 Pol. Then let Theophilus continue his teaching. 
 
 3 Therefore, whatever is, is animate. 
 
OF CAUSE, PRINCIPLE, AND THE ONE 15 
 
 are actually and recognizably alive, as would be required by all 
 the Peripatetics, and by those who define life and soul in terms 
 of principles that are too gross. 
 
 Dix. You show me the seemingly true way in which the opin- 
 ion of Anaxagoras may be maintained, who held that all things 
 are in all things. For since spirit, or soul, or universal form, 
 exists in all things, all may be produced from all. 
 
 Theo. I do not say seemingly true, but true. For spirit is 
 found in all things, those which are not living creatures are 
 still vitalized, if not according to the perceptible presence of 
 animation and life, yet they are animate according to the prin- 
 ciple and, as it were, primal being of animation and life. And 
 I cannot say more, because I will pass over the properties of 
 many stones and gems, which being broken, and recut and 
 arranged in disordered fragments, have a certain virtue, in 
 altering the mind and engendering new affections and passions 
 in the soul, and not only in the body. And we know that such 
 effects do not proceed, nor can they come from purely material 
 qualities; but they must necessarily be referred to a principle, 
 as it were, vital. 1 Furthermore, we perceive this very sensibly 
 in case of withered plants and roots, which purifying and col- 
 lecting humors, alter the states of minds and show unmistak- 
 ably vital influences. \ I will grant that not without reason the 
 necromancers hope to accomplish many things by means of 
 the bones of the dead, and they believe that those bones retain, 
 if not the very same, yet such a sort of vital activity as may 
 become useful in producing remarkable effects. On other occa- 
 sions I shall be able to discuss more at length the mind, the spirit, 
 the soul, the life, which penetrates all, is in all, and moves all 
 matter, fills the lap of that matter and dominates it rather than 
 is dominated by it. For the spiritual substance cannot be over- 
 powered by the material, but rather embraces it. 
 
 Dix. That appears to me to conform not only to the sense 
 of Pythagoras, whose opinion the Poet rehearses when he says, 
 
 Principio caelum ac terras camposque liquentes, 
 Lucentemque globum lunae Titaniaque astra 
 
i6 BRUNO 
 
 Spiritus intus alit, totamque infusa per artus 
 Mens agitat molem, totoque se corpore miscet, 1 
 
 but also it conforms to the Theologian who says, "The spirit 
 rules over and fills the earth, and that it is which contains all 
 things." And another, speaking perchance of the dealings of 
 form with matter and with potentiality, says that the latter is 
 dominated by actuality and by form. 
 
 Theo. If then, spirit, mind, life, is found in all things, and in 
 various degrees fills all matter, it must certainly follow, that it 
 is the true actuality, and the true form of all things. The soul 
 of the world, then, is the formal, constitutive principle of the 
 universe, and of that which is contained within it. I say that if 
 life is found in all things, the soul must be the form of all things; 
 that which through everything presides over matter, holds sway 
 over composite things, effects the composition and consistency 
 of their parts. And therefore such form is no less enduring than 
 matter. This I understand to be One in all things, which, how- 
 ever, according to the diversity of the disposition of matter, 
 and according to the power of the material principle, both 
 active and passive, comes to produce diverse configurations, 
 and to effect different faculties, sometimes showing the effects 
 of life without sense, sometimes the effects of life and sensation 
 without intellect, and sometimes it appears that all the faculties 
 are suppressed or repressed either by weakness, or by other 
 conditions of matter. While this form thus changes place and 
 circumstance, it is impossible that it should be annulled; because 
 the spiritual substance is not less real than the material. Then 
 only external forms can change and even be annulled, because 
 they are not things, but of things; they are not substances; they 
 are accidents and circumstances. 
 
 Pol. Non entia sed entium (not entities, but of entities). 
 
 Dix. Surely, if any substantial thing could be annulled, the 
 universe would become empty. 
 
 1 In the beginning the sky, the earth and the fields of the waters, 
 Glistening orb of the moon, and also the radiant sunlight, 
 All is inspired with life, and trembling through every member, 
 Mind vitalizes the mass, and with the whole body is mingled. 
 
 Virgil's Mneid, VI, 724 ff. 
 
OF CAUSE, PRINCIPLE, AND THE ONE 17 
 
 Theo. We have then an intrinsic principle, formal, eternal, 
 and subsistent, incomparably better than that which the Sophists 
 have imagined, who play with accidents, ignorant of the sub- 
 stance of things, and who are led to assume corruptible sub- 
 stances because they call chiefly, primarily and principally that 
 substance which results from composition. For the latter is 
 only an accident, containing within itself no stability and truth, 
 and resolves itself into nothing. They call that the true man 
 which results from composition; they call that the true soul 
 which is either the perfection of a living body, or at least a thing 
 which results from a certain sympathy of complexion and mem- 
 bers. Therefore, it is not strange that they do so much and so 
 greatly fear death and dissolution; as those for whom ruin of 
 their being is imminent. Against this madness nature cries out 
 with a loud voice, assuring us that neither bodies nor souls 
 should fear death, since both matter and form are absolutely 
 constant principles. 
 
 O genus attonitum gelidae formidine mortis, 
 Quid Styga, quid tenebras, et nomina vana timetis, 
 Materiam vatum, f alsique pericula mundi ? 
 Corpora sive rogus flamma, seu tabe vetustas 
 Abstulerit, mala posse pati non ulla potetis: 
 Morte carent animae semperque priore relicta 
 Sede novis domibus vivunt habitantque receptae. 
 Omnia mutantur, nihil intent. 1 
 
 Dix. That seems to me to agree with the opinion of Solomon, 
 esteemed the wisest of men by the Hebrews. Quid est quod est ? 
 Ipsum quod fuit. Quid est quod juit? Ipsum quod est. Nihil 
 sub sole novum? So that that form which you assume is not 
 existent in and adherent to the matter according to its being, 
 
 1 Oh race, atremble with fear, with the icy terror of dying, 
 Wherefore dread ye the Styx, vain names, and the forms of the shadows, 
 Idle subjects for poets, and dangers of worlds that exist not? 
 Whether the funeral pile shall consume our bodies with fire, 
 
 Or old age wasting away, think not that we can suffer evil. 
 Souls are not subject to death, but former dwellings abandoned, 
 Rise to a shelter eternal, where they may inhabit forever. 
 Thus do all things suffer change, but nothing ever shall perish. 
 
 Ovid's Metamorphoses, Book XV.* 
 
 2 Eccles. i, 9 (King James' Version) : The thing which hath been, it is that 
 
1 8 BRUNO 
 
 does not depend upon the body and upon matter in order that 
 it shall subsist? 
 
 Theo. So it is. And furthermore, I do not decide whether all 
 form is accompanied by matter. Of matter I already dare to 
 say, that no portion of it is, in fact, devoid of form; unless you 
 define form in a purely abstract sense, as Aristotle does. For 
 he never wearies of dividing conceptually those things which 
 in Nature and Truth are indivisible. 
 
 Dix. Do you not hold that there may be some other form be- 
 sides this eternal companion of matter? 
 
 Theo. Yes, and a form more natural still, which is the material 
 form of which we shall later reason. For the present, note this 
 distinction of form. There is, namely, one sort, I call it the 
 primal form, which informs, is extended, and is dependent. And 
 since this informs everything, it is in the whole. And since in 
 the whole it is extended, it communicates perfection from the 
 whole to the parts. And because it is dependent and has no 
 activity of itself alone, it communicates the activity of the whole 
 to the parts, likewise the name and the being. Such is the ma- 
 terial form, like that of fire. Because every part of the fire warms, 
 it is called fire, and is fire. Secondly, there is another sort of 
 form which informs and is dependent; but it is not extended, 
 and such form, because it makes perfect and actuates the whole, 
 is in the whole and in every part of the whole. Because it is not 
 extended, it results that the activity of the whole is not attributed 
 to the parts. Because it is dependent, the activity of the whole 
 is communicated to the parts; and such is the vegetative and 
 sensitive soul, because no part of the animal is animal; and, 
 nevertheless, every part lives and feels. Third, there is another 
 sort of form, which actuates and perfects the whole; but it is 
 not extended, nor is it dependent as to its operations. This, 
 because it actuates and makes perfect, is in the whole, and in 
 each and every part. Because it is not extended, the perfection 
 
 which shall be. And that which is done, is that which shall be done. And there 
 is no new thing under the sun. 
 
 The Latin Vulgate version reads: Quid est quod fuit ? ipsum quod juturum est. 
 Quid est quod factum est ? Ipsum quod faciendum est. 
 
 Nihil sub sole novum! 
 
OF CAUSE, PRINCIPLE, AND THE ONE 19 
 
 of the whole is not attributed to the parts. Because it is not 
 dependent, it does not communicate the activity of the whole to 
 the parts. Such is the soul, in so far as it can exercise intellectual 
 powers, and is called the intellective soul, which does not form 
 any such part of man, that it can be called man, nor is it man, 
 nor can it be said to mean this. Of these three sorts of form, the 
 first is material, which cannot be understood, nor can it exist, 
 without matter. The other two sorts (which, in fact, run to- 
 gether into one according to their substance and their being, 
 and are distinguished according to the method which we have 
 designated above) make up that formal principle which is dis- 
 tinct from the material principle. 1 
 
 Dix. I understand. 
 
 Theo. Further than this, I want you to take notice that, al- 
 though in common parlance we say that there are five grades or 
 kinds of form: i. e., the Elemental, the Mixed, the Vegetative, 
 the Sensitive, and the Intellective, we do not, however, under- 
 stand this according to the common acceptation ; because that dis- 
 tinction is valid according to the operations which appear with and 
 proceed from the particular beings: not according to that ground 
 of the primary and fundamental being of that form and spiritual 
 life which itself fills all things, and not in the same manner. 2 
 
 1 The substance of the argument is this: The three kinds of form are dis- 
 tinguished with respect to three kinds of relations between whole and part, 
 which are found in nature. The first kind of relation exists when a whole is 
 such, that every part has the nature and, on occasion, the name of the whole. 
 In such cases, the form may be said to extend itself to the parts. The form is 
 here a conditioned or dependent form, i. e., it results from something higher 
 than itself. The second type of relation of whole and part is found in living 
 objects, which are not intelligent, that is, in the vegetative and sensitive soul. 
 Here the whole has a character which does not belong to every part, yet the 
 nature of the whole pervades the parts, although not spatially. The third kind 
 of relation of whole and part is exemplified by the Intellect, say in case of the 
 human soul. The relation is here the one which Aristotle's doctrine had de- 
 scribed in so dark a manner. According to our text, the Intellect pervades the 
 man, for its perfection is communicated to e^pry part of his nature. But it does 
 not pervade him by extending itself spatially through him, but by imparting to 
 every part of him its meaning. Furthermore, it does not make every part of him 
 think. For it is not itself a dependent principle. It is rather that which makes 
 the whole man a man, while nevertheless itself, it is not either a man or a part of 
 a man. 
 
 2 That is, the foregoing distinction of the three kinds of form is intended 
 
20 BRUNO 
 
 Dix. I understand. Inasmuch as this form which you hold 
 to be the principle is a subsistent form, it constitutes a perfect 
 species, is of its own genus, and is not part of a species like that 
 Peripatetic form. 1 
 
 Theo. So it is. 
 
 Dix. The division of forms in matter is not according to the 
 accidental dispositions which depend upon the material form. 
 
 Theo. True. 
 
 Dix. Hence also this separate form is not multiplied according 
 to number, because all numerical multiplication depends upon 
 matter. 
 
 Theo. Yes. 
 
 Dix. Though invariable in itself, it is variable through par- 
 ticular things and the diversity of matter, and such form, although 
 in the subject it makes the part differ from the whole, yet itself 
 does not differ in the part and in the whole; although one 
 ground suits it as subsistent by itself, and another in so far as it 
 is the activity and completion of some subject, and yet another 
 in regard to a subject with dispositions of one sort, and another 
 with those of another. 
 
 Theo. Exactly so. 
 
 Dix. This form is not to be understood as accidental, nor as 
 like the accidental, nor as being mingled with matter, nor as 
 being inherent in matter: but indwelling, associated, assistent. 2 
 
 to introduce a closer connection between the natural forms that we see, and that 
 universal World-form or life which Bruno posits, than would be possible if one 
 accepted what Bruno calls the common division of Forms as final. For this 
 common division of forms depends rather upon distinguishing five classes of 
 Natural things, than upon distinguishing the characteristic types of relations of 
 whole and part. 
 
 1 The reference is now once more to the universal world-form, which forms 
 no part of any one natural species. 
 
 2 The universal form is subsistent, i. e., it has its own sundered and in- 
 dependent existence, apart from its infinitely numerous manifestations. Yet 
 with equal truth, it is immanent in its manifestations, since it must manifest 
 itself in these infinitely numerous forms. According as you take it in itself, or 
 in its manifestations, you have to make numerous distinctions, according as 
 you treat it, now as manifested by this, and now as manifested by that thing, 
 now as thus or thus related to the whole and to parts of various things. But all 
 such distinctions have no ultimate meaning. The great truth is: the tnie f> 
 is One. 
 
OF CAUSE, PRINCIPLE, AND THE Oi, 
 
 Theo. That is what I affirm. 
 
 Dix. Furthermore, this form is defined and determined by 
 matter, because it has in itself the means of constituting particular 
 things of innumerable species; and restricts itself to constituting 
 one individual: and on the other hand, the potentiality of inde- 
 terminate matter, which may receive any form you like, finds its 
 completion in a species; so that the one is the cause of the defi- 
 nition and determination of the other. 
 
 Theo. Very well. 
 
 Dix. Then you approve, in some sort, the opinion of Anax- 
 agoras who calls the particular forms of Nature latent, and in 
 a sense that of Plato who deduces them from ideas, and in a man- 
 ner that of Empedocles who makes them proceed from intelli- 
 gence, and in some sort that of Aristotle who makes them, as it 
 were, issue from the potentiality of matter? 
 
 Theo. Yes. Because, as we have said, where there is form, 
 there is, in a certain manner, everything. Where there is soul, 
 spirit, life, there is everything, for the creator of ideal forms and 
 varieties is intellect. And even if it does not obtain forms from 
 matter, it nevertheless does not go begging for them outside of 
 matter, because this spirit fills the whole. 
 
 Pol. 1 Velim scire quo modo forma est anima mundi ubique iota, 
 if it is indivisible? It must, then, be very big, even of infinite 
 dimensions, if one may call the world infinite. 
 
 Gerv. There is good* ground for its being large, as also a 
 preacher at Grandazzo in Sicily said of our Lord: where as a 
 sign that He is present through the whole world, he ordered a 
 crucifix as big as the church, in the similitude of God the Father, 
 who has the Empyrean heavens for a canopy; the starry heavens 
 for his throne, and has such long legs that they reach down to the 
 earth, which serves him for a footstool. To him came a certain 
 peasant, and questioned him thus. Reverend father, now how 
 many ells of cloth would it take to make his breeches? And 
 another said that all the peas and beans of Melazzo and Nicosia 
 
 1 Pol. I want to know in what way the form is everywhere the whole soul of 
 the world, if it is indivisible. 
 
BRUNO 
 
 juld not suffice to fill his stomach. Look to it, then, that this 
 World-soul is not made after such a fashion. 
 
 Theo. I do not know how to resolve your doubt, Gervasius, 
 but perhaps I can that of Master Polyhymnius. I can, however, 
 to satisfy you both, give you a comparison, because I wish you 
 to carry away some fruits of our reasoning and discourse. Know, 
 then, in brief, that the Soul of the World, and the Divinity are 
 not omnipresent through all and through every part, in the way 
 in which material things could be there: because this is impos- 
 sible to any sort of body, and to any sort of spirit ; but in a man- 
 ner which is not easy to explain to you if not in this way. You 
 should take notice that if the Soul of the World and the universal 
 form are said to be everywhere, we do not mean corporeally and 
 dimensionally, because such things cannot be; and just so they 
 cannot be in any part. But they are spiritually present in every- 
 thing as, for example (perhaps a rough one), you can imagine 
 a voice which is throughout a whole room and in every part of 
 the room; because, through all, it is completely heard: just as 
 these words which I utter are heard completely by all, even were 
 there a thousand present, and my voice, could it reach through- 
 out the whole world, would be everywhere through everything. 
 I tell you then, Master Polyhymnius, that the soul is not indivisi- 
 ble like a point, but in some sort like the voice. And I answer you, 
 Gervasius, that the Divinity is not everywhere in the sense that 
 the God of Grandazzo was in the whole of the chapel, because, 
 although he was present throughout the church, yet all of him 
 was not present everywhere, but his head was in one part, his 
 feet in another, his arms and his chest in yet other parts. But 
 that other is in its entirety in every part, as my voice is heard com- 
 pletely in every part of this room. 
 
 Pol. Percepi optime. 1 
 
 Gerv. At least your voice I have heard. 
 
 Dix. I well believe it of the voice, but as to the discourse, I 
 think it has gone in at one ear and out at the other. 
 
 Gerv. I think it has not even gone in. For the rest, it is late, 
 and the clock in my stomach has struck supper time. 
 1 I perceived that perfectly. 
 
OF CAUSE, PRINCIPLE, AND THE ONE 23 
 
 Pol. Hoc est, idest to have your brains in patinis. 1 
 Dioc. Enough then. To-morrow perhaps we may meet to talk 
 about the material principle. 
 
 Theo. Either I will expect you, or you may expect me here. 
 
 1 That is what it is to have your brains in your platter. 
 
FRANCIS BACON 
 
 (1561-1626) 
 
 NOVUM ORGANUM* 
 
 Translated^ from the Latin by 
 JAMES SPEDDING 
 
 APHORISMS CONCERNING THE INTERPRE- 
 TATION OF NATURE AND THE 
 KINGDOM OF MAN 
 
 "fHE IDOLS'" 
 
 i 
 
 MAN, being the servant and interpreter of nature, can do and 
 understand so much and so much only as he has observed in 
 fact or in thought of the course of nature: beyond this he neither 
 knows anything nor can do anything. 
 
 ii 
 
 Neither the naked hand nor the understanding left to itself/ 
 can effect much. It is by instruments and helps that the work is 
 done, which are as much wanted for the understanding as for 
 the hand. And as the instruments of the hand either give motion 
 or guide it, so the instruments of the mind supply either sugges- 
 tions for the understanding or cautions. 
 
 in 
 
 Human knowledge and human power meet in one ; for where 
 the cause is not known the effect cannot be produced. Nature 
 to be commanded must be obeyed; and that which in contem- 
 plation is as the cause is in operation as the rule. 
 
 * From The Philosophical Works of Francis Bacon, edited by Robert Leslie 
 Ellis and James Spedding, London, 1861, vol. iv. 
 
 f The translation was originally made by an undergraduate of Trinity Col- 
 lege, Cambridge, but Spedding is responsible for the form which it finally 
 assumed. 
 
NOVUM ORGANUM 
 
 IV 
 
 Towards the affecting of works, all that man can do is to put 
 together or put asunder natural bodies. The rest is done by 
 nature working within. 
 
 v 
 
 The study of nature with a view to works is engaged in by the 
 mechanic, the mathematician, the physician, the alchemist, and 
 the magician; but by all (as things now are) with slight endeavour 
 and scanty success. 
 
 VI 
 
 It would be an unsound fancy and self-contradictory to expect 
 that things which have never yet been done can be done except 
 by means which have never yet been tried. 
 
 VII 
 
 The productions of the mind and hand seem very numerous in 
 books and manufactures. But all this variety lies in an exquisite 
 subtlety and derivations from a few things already known; not 
 in the number of axioms. 
 
 VIII 
 
 Moreover the works already known are due to chance and 
 experiment rather than to sciences; for the sciences we nowpos 
 sess are merely systems for the nice ordering and setting forth 
 of things already invented; noTmethods of invention or dire 
 tions for new works. 
 
 IX 
 
 The cause and root of nearly all evils in the sciences is this 
 that while we falsely admire and extol the powers of the human 
 mind we neglect to seek for its true helps. 
 
 x 
 
 The subtlety of nature is greater many times over than the 
 subtlety of the senses and understanding; so that all those spe- 
 cious meditations, speculations, and glosses in which men indulge 
 are quite from the purpose, onfo there is no one by tn observe it 
 
 xi 
 
 As the sciences which we now have do not help us in finding 
 out new works, so neither does the logic which we now have help 
 us in finding out new sciences. 
 
26 BACON 
 
 XII 
 
 The logic now in use serves rather to fix and give stability to 
 the errors which have their foundation in commonly received 
 notions than to help the search after truth. So it does more 
 harm than good. 
 
 XIII 
 
 The syllogism is not applied to the first principles of sciences, 
 and is applied in vain to intermediate axioms; being no match 
 for the subtlety of nature. It commands assent therefore to the 
 proposition, but does not take hold of the thing. 
 
 XIV 
 
 The syllogism consists of propositions, propositions consist of 
 words, words are symbols of notions. Therefore if the notions 
 themselves (which is the root of the matter) are confused and 
 over-hastily abstracted from the facts, there can be no firmness 
 in the superstructure. Our only hope therefore lies in a true 
 induction. 
 
 xv 
 
 There is no soundness in our notions whether logical or phys- 
 ical. Substance, Quality, Action, Passion, Essence itself, are not 
 sound notions: much less are Heavy, Light, Dense, Rare, Moist, 
 Dry, Generation, Corruption, Attraction, Repulsion, Element, 
 Matter, Form, and the like; but all are fantastical and ill defined. 
 
 XVI 
 
 Our notions of less general species, as Man, Dog, Dove, and 
 of the immediate perceptions of the sense, as Hot, Cold, Black, 
 White, do not materially mislead us; yet even these are some- 
 times confused by the flux and alteration of matter and the mix- 
 ing of one thing with another. All the others which men have 
 hitherto adopted are but wanderings, not being abstracted and 
 formed from things by proper methods. 
 
 XVII 
 
 Nor is there less of wilfulness and wandering in the construc- 
 tion of axioms than in the formations of notions; not excepting 
 even those very principles which are obtained by common in- 
 duction; but much more in the axioms and lower propositions 
 educed by the syllogism. 
 
 i 
 
NOVUM ORGANUM 27 
 
 XVIII 
 
 The discoveries which have hitherto been made in the sciences 
 are such as lie close to vulgar notions, scarcely beneath the sur- 
 face. In order to penetrate into the inner and further recesses of 
 nature, it is necessary that both notions and axioms be derived 
 from things by a more sure and guarded way ; and that a methooj j 
 of intellectual operation be introduced altogether better and 
 more certain. 
 
 XIX 
 
 There are and can be only two ways of searching into and dis- 
 covering truth. The one flSTfrom the senses and particulars 
 to rhe~most general axioms, and from these principles, the truth 
 of which it takes for settled and immovable, proceeds to judg- 
 ment and to the discovery of middle axioms. And this way is 
 now in fashion. The other derives axioms from the senses and 
 particulars, rising by a gradual and unbroken ascent, so that it 
 arrives at the most general axioms last of all. This is the true 
 way, but as yet untried. 
 
 xx 
 
 The understanding left to itself takes the same course (namely, 
 the former) which it takes in accordance with logical order. For 
 the mind longs to spring up to positions of higher generality, 
 that it may find rest there ; and so after a little while wearies of 
 experiment. But this evil is increased by logic, because of the 
 order and solemnity of its disputations. 
 
 XXI 
 
 The understanding left to itself, in a sober, patient, and grave 
 mind, especially if it be not hindered by received doctrines, tries 
 a little that other way, which is the right one, but with little pro- 
 gress; since the understanding, unless directed and assisted, 
 is a thing unequal, and quite unfit to contend with the obscurity 
 of things. 
 
 XXII 
 
 Both ways set out from the senses and particulars, and rest 
 in the highest generalities; but the difference between them is 
 infinite. For the one just glances at experiment and particulars in 
 passing, the other dwells duly and orderly among them. The one, 
 
28 BACON 
 
 again, begins at once by establishing certain abstract and useless 
 generalities, the other rises by gradual steps to that which is 
 prior and better known in the order of nature. 
 
 XXIII 
 
 There is a great difference between the Idols of the human 
 mind and the Ideas of the divine. That is to say, between cer- 
 tain empty dogmas, and the true signatures and marks set upon 
 the works of creation as they are found in nature. 
 
 XXIV 
 
 It cannot be that axioms established by argumentation should 
 avail for the discovery of new works; since the subtlety of nature 
 is greater many times over than the subtlety of argument. But 
 axioms duly and orderly formed from particulars easily discover 
 the way to new particulars, and thus render sciences active. 
 
 XXV 
 
 The axioms now in use, having been suggested by a scanty 
 and manipular experience and a few particulars of most general 
 occurrence, are made for the most part just large enough to fit 
 and take these in: and therefore it is no wonder if they do not 
 lead to new particulars. And if some opposite instance, not 
 observed or not known before, chance to come in the way, the 
 axiom is rescued and preserved by some frivolous distinction; 
 whereas the truer course would be to correct the axiom itself. 
 
 XXVI 
 
 The conclusions of human reason as ordinarily applied in 
 matter of nature, I call for the sake of distinction Anticipations 
 oj Nature (as a thing rash or premature). That reason which is 
 elicited from facts by a just and methodical process, I call 
 Interpretation of Nature. 
 
 XXVII 
 
 Anticipations are a ground sufficiently firm for consent; for 
 even if men went mad all after the same fashion, they might 
 agree one with another well enough. 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 For the winning of assent, indeed, anticipations are far more 
 powerful than interpretations; because being collected from a 
 few instances, and those for the most part of familiar occurrence, 
 
NOVUM ORGANUM 29 
 
 they straightway touch the understanding and fill the imagina- 
 tion; whereas interpretations on the other hand, being gathered 
 here and there from very various and widely dispersed facts, 
 cannot suddenly strike the understanding; and therefore they 
 must needs, in respect of the opinions of the time, seem harsh 
 and out of tune; much as the mysteries of faith do. 
 
 XXIX 
 
 In sciences founded on opinions and dogmas, the use of antici- 
 pations and logic is good; for in them the object is to command 
 assent to the proposition, not to master the thing. 
 
 XXX 
 
 Though all the wits of all the ages should meet together and 
 combine and transmit their labours, yet will no great progress 
 ever be made in science by means of anticipations; because 
 radical errors in the first concoction of the mind are not to be 
 cured by the excellence of functions and remedies subsequent. 
 
 XXXI 
 
 It is idle to expect any great advancement in science from the 
 superinducing and engrafting of new things upon old. We must 
 begin anew from the very foundations, unless we would revolve 
 forever in a circle with mean and contemptible progress. 
 
 XXXII 
 
 The honour of the ancient authors, and indeed of all, remains 
 untouched; since the comparison I challenge is not of wits or 
 faculties, but of ways and methods, and the part I take upon 
 myself is not that of a judge, but of a guide. 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 This must be plainly avowed: no judgment can be rightly 
 formed either of my method or of the discoveries to which it 
 leads, by means of anticipations (that is to say, of the reasoning 
 which is now in use); since I cannot be called on to abide by 
 the sentence of a tribunal which is itself on its trial. 
 
 XXXIV 
 
 Even to deliver and explain what I bring forward is no easy 
 matter; for things in themselves new will yet be apprehended 
 with reference to what is old. 
 
3 o BACON 
 
 XXXV 
 
 It was said by Borgia of the expedition of the French into 
 Italy, that they came with chalk in their hands to mark out their 
 lodgings, not with arms to force their way in. I in like manner 
 \ would have my doctrine enter quietly into the minds that are 
 fit and capable of receiving it; for confutations cannot be em- 
 ployed, when the difference is upon first principles and very 
 notions and even upon forms of demonstration. 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 One method of delivery alone remains to us; which is simply 
 this: wejrjjisjje^djnen to the particulars themselves, and their 
 series and order; while men on their side must force themselves 
 for awhile to lay their notions by and begin to familiarise them- 
 selves with facts. 
 
 XXXVII 
 
 The doctrine of those who have denied that certainty could be 
 attained at all, has some agreement with my way of proceeding 
 at the first setting out; but they end in being infinitely separated 
 and opposed. For the holders of that doctrine assert simply 
 that nothing can be known; I also assert that not much can be 
 known in nature by the way which is now in use. But then they 
 go on to destroy the authority of the senses and understanding; 
 whereas I proceed to Revise and supply helps for the same. 
 
 XXXVIII 
 
 The idols and false notions which are now in possession of the 
 human understanding, and have taken deep root therein, not 
 only so beset men's minds that truth can hardly find entrance, 
 but even after entrance obtained, they will again in the very 
 instauration of the sciences meet and trouble us, unless men being 
 forewarned of the danger fortify themselves as far as may be 
 against their assaults. 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 There are four classes of Idols which beset men's minds. To 
 these for distinction's sake I have assigned names, calling 
 the first class Idols $ the Tribe; the second, Idols__ojjhe Cave; 
 the third, Idols ^nj the Market-place; the fourth, Idols^o^Jhe 
 Theatre. 
 
NOVUM ORGANUM 31 
 
 XL 
 
 The formation of ideas and axioms by true induction is no 
 doubt the proper remedy to be applied for the keeping off and 
 clearing away of idols. To point them out, however, is of great 
 use; for the doctrine of Idols is to the Interpretation of Nature 
 what the doctrine of the refutation of Sophisms is to common 
 Logic. 
 
 XLI 
 
 The Idols of the Tribe have their foundation in human nature 
 itself, and in the tribe or race of men. For it is a false assertion 
 that the sense of man is the measure of things. On the contrary, 
 all perceptions as well of the sense as of the mind are according 
 to the measure of the individual and not according to the 
 measure of the universe. And the human^iinjderstanding is like 
 a false mirror, which, receiving ray^Jn^gulajly^d^sjtorts^and dis- 
 colours the nature of things by mingling its own nature with it. 
 
 XLII 
 
 The Idols of the Cave are the idols of the individual man. 
 For every one (besides the errors common to human nature in 
 general) has a cave or den of his own, which refracts and dis- 
 colours the light of nature; owing either to his own proper and 
 peculiar nature; or to his education and conversation with others; 
 or to the reading of books, and the authority of those whom 
 he esteems and admires; or to the differences of impressions, 
 accordingly as they take place in a mind preoccupied and pre- 
 disposed or in a mind indifferent and settled; or the like. So 
 that the spirit of man (according as it is meted out to differ- 
 ent individuals) is in fact a thing variable and full of pertur- 
 bation, and governed as it were by chance. Whence it was well 
 observed by Heraclitus that men look for sciences in their own 
 lesser worlds, and not in the greater or common world. 
 
 XLIII 
 
 There are also Idols formed by the intercourse and associa- 
 i*n with each other, which I call Idols of the Market- 
 place, on account of the commerce and consort of men there. 
 5 by tl iscourse thatjnen associate ; and words are imposed 
 ding to the apprehension of the vulgar. And therefore 
 
32 BACON 
 
 the ill and unfit choice of words wonderfully obstructs the under- 
 standing. Nor do the definitions or explanations wherewith 
 in some things learned men are wont to guard and defend them- 
 selves, by any means set the matter right. But words plainly 
 force and overrule the understanding, and throw all into con- 
 fusion, and lead men away into numberless empty controversies 
 and idle fancies. 
 
 XLIV 
 
 Lastly, there are Idols which have immigrated into men's 
 minds from the various dogmas of philosophies, and also from 
 wrong laws of demonstration. These I call Idols of the Theatre ; 
 because in my judgment all the received systems are but so 
 many stage-plays, representing worlds of their own creation 
 after an unreal and scenic fashion. Nor is it only of the systems 
 now in vogue, or only of the ancient sects and philosophies, 
 that I speak; for many more plays of the same kind may yet be 
 composed and in like artificial manner set forth; seeing that 
 errors the most widely different have nevertheless causes for 
 the most part alike. Neither again do I mean this only of entire 
 systems, but also of many principles and axioms in science, 
 which by tradition, credulity, and negligence have come to be 
 received. 
 
 But of these several kinds of Idols I must speak more largely 
 and exactly, that the understanding may be duly cautioned. 
 
 XLV 
 
 The human understanding is of its own nature prone to sup- 
 pose the existence of more order and regularity in the world 
 than it finds. And though there be many things in nature which 
 are singular and unmatched, yet it devises for them parallels 
 and conjugates and relatives which do not exist. ^ Hence the 
 fiction that all celestial bodies move in perfect circles; spirals 
 and dragons being (except in name) utterly rejected. Hence 
 too the element of Fire with its orb is brought in, to make up 
 the square with the other three which the sense perceive .Hence 
 also the ratio of density of the so-called elements is arbitrarily 
 fixed at ten to one. And so on of other dreams. And these fa. 
 affect not dogmas only, but simple notions also. 
 
NOVUM ORGANUM 33 
 
 XL VI 
 
 The human understanding when it has once adopted an/x x 
 opinion (either as being the received opinion or as being agree- 
 
 ble to itself) draws all things else to support and agree with it. 
 And though there be a greater number and weight of instances 
 to be found on the other side, yet these it either neglects and 
 despises, or else by some distinction sets aside and rejects; in 
 order that by this great and pernicious predetermination the 
 authority of its former conclusions may remain inviolate. And 
 
 herefore it was a good answer that was made by one who when 
 they showed him hanging in a temple a picture of those who had 
 id their vows as having escaped shipwreck, and would have 
 him say whether he did not now acknowledge the power of the 
 gods, "Aye," asked he again, "but where are they painted 
 
 hat were. drowned after their vows?" And such is the way of 
 all superstition, whether in astrology, dreams, omens, divine 
 
 udgments, or the like; wherein men, having a delight in such 
 vanities, mark the events where they are fulfilled, but where 
 
 hey fail, though this happen much oftener, neglect arid pass 
 
 hem by. But with far more subtlety does this mischief insinuate 
 
 tself into philosophy and the sciences; in which the first con- 
 clusion colours and brings into conformity with itself all that 
 come after, though far sounder and better. Besides, independ- . 
 ently of that delight and vanity which I have described, it is the ^^ 
 
 >eculiar and perpetual error of the human intellect to be more 
 moved and excited by affirmatives than by negatives ; whereas it 
 
 ught properly to hold itself indifferently disposed towards both 
 alike. Indeed in the establishment of any true axiom, the nega- 
 
 ive instance is the more forcible of the two. 
 
 XL VII 
 
 The human understanding is moved by those things most 
 
 which strike and enter the mind simultaneously and suddenly, 
 
 and so fill the imagination; and then it feigns and supposes all 
 
 >ther things to be somehow, though it cannot see how, similar 
 
 o those few things by which it is surrounded. But for that going 
 
 o and fro to remote and heterogeneous instances, by which 
 
 axioms are tried as in the fire, the intellect is altogether slow and 
 
34 BACON 
 
 unfit, unless it be forced thereto by severe laws and overruling 
 authority. 
 
 XL VIII 
 
 The human understanding is unquiet; it cannot stop or rest 
 and still presses onward, but in vain. Therefore it is that we 
 cannot conceive of any end or limit to the world; but always 
 as of necessity it occurs to us that there is something beyond. 
 Neither again can it be conceived how eternity has flowed down 
 to the present day; for that distinction which is commonly re- 
 ceived of infinity in time past and in time to come can by no( 
 means hold; for it would thence follow that one infinity is greater 
 than another, and that infinity is wasting away and tending to 
 become finite. The like subtlety arises touching the infinite 
 divisibility of lines, from the same inability of thought to stop. 
 But this inability interferes more mischievously in the discovery 
 of causes: for although the most general principles in nature 
 ought to be held merely positive, as they are discovered, and can- 
 not with truth be referred to a cause; nevertheless the human 
 understanding being unable to rest still seeks something prior 
 in the order of nature. And then it is that in struggling towards 
 that which is further off it falls back upon that which is more 
 nigh at hand; namely, on final causes: which have relation 
 clearly to the nature of man rather than to the nature of the 
 universe ; and from this source have strangely defiled philosophy. 
 But he is no less an unskilled and shallow philosopher who 
 seeks causes of that which is most general, than he who in things 
 subordinate and subaltern omits to do so. 
 
 XLIX 
 
 The human understanding is no dry light, but receives an 
 infusion from the will and affections; whence proceed sciences 
 which may be called " sciences as one would." For what a man 
 iad rather were true he more readily believes. Therefore he 
 rejects difficult things from impatience of research; sober things, 
 because they narrow hope; the deeper things of nature, from 
 superstition; the light of experience, from arrogance and pride, 
 lest his mind should seem to be occupied with things mean and 
 transitory; things not commonly believed, out of deference to 
 
NOVUM ORGANUM 35 
 
 the opinion of the vulgar. Numberless in short are the ways, 
 and sometimes imperceptible, in which the affections colour and 
 infect the understanding. 
 
 L 
 
 But by far the greatest hindrance and aberration of the human 
 understanding proceeds from the dulness, incompetency, and 
 deceptions of the senses; in that things which strike the sense 
 outweigh things which do not immediately strike it, though they 
 be more important. Hence it is that speculation commonly 
 ceases where sight ceases ; insomuch that of things invisible there 
 is little or no observation. Hence all the working of the spirits 
 inclosed in tangible bodies lies hid and unobserved of men. So 
 also all the more subtle changes of form in the parts of coarser 
 substances (which they commonly call alteration, though it is 
 in truth local motion through exceedingly small spaces) is. in like 
 manner unobserved. And yet unless these two things just men- 
 tioned be searched out and brought to light, nothing great can 
 be achieved in nature, as far as the production of works is con- 
 cerned. So again the essential nature of our common air, and of 
 all bodies less dense than air (which are very many), is almost 
 unknown. For the sense by itself is a thing infirm and erring; 
 neither can instruments for enlarging or sharpening the senses 
 do much; but all the truer kind of interpretation of nature is 
 effected by instances and experiments fit and apposite; wherein 
 the sense decides touching the experiment only, and the experi- 
 ment touching the point in nature and the thing itself. 
 
 LI 
 
 The human understanding is of its own nature prone to ab- 
 stractions and gives a substance and reality to things which 
 are fleeting. But to resolve nature into abstractions is less to 
 our purpose than to dissect her into parts; as did the school 
 of Democritus, which went further into nature than the rest. 
 Matter ratherThan forms should be the object of our attention, 
 its configurations and changes of configuration, and simple 
 action, and law of action or motion; for forms are figments of 
 the human mind, unless you will call those laws of action 
 forms. 
 
36 BACON 
 
 LII 
 
 Such then are the idols which I call Idols oj the Tribe; and 
 which take their rise either from the homogeneity of the sub- 
 stance of the human spirit, or from its preoccupation, or from 
 its narrowness, or from its restless motion, or from an infusion 
 of the affections, or from the incompetency of the senses, or from 
 the mode of impression. 
 
 LIII 
 
 The Idols of the Cave take their rise in the peculiar constitu- 
 tion, mental or bodily, of each individual; and also in educa- 
 tion, habit, and accident. Of this kind there is a great number 
 and variety; but I will instance those the pointing out of which 
 contains the most important caution, and which have most effect 
 in disturbing the clearness of the understanding. 
 
 LIV 
 
 Men become attached to certain particular sciences and specu- 
 lations, either because they fancy themselves the authors and 
 inventors thereof, or because they have bestowed the greatest 
 pains upon them and become most habituated to them. But men 
 of this kind, if they betake themselves to philosophy and contem- 
 plation of a general character, distort and colour them in obedi- 
 ence to their former fancies; a thing especially to be noticed in 
 Aristotle, who made his natural philosophy a mere bond-ser- 
 vant to his logic, thereby rendering it contentious and well-nigh 
 useless. The race of chemists again out of a few experiments of 
 the furnace have built up a fantastic philosophy, framed with 
 reference to a few things; and Gilbert also, after he had em- 
 ployed himself most laboriously in the study and observation oi 
 the loadstone, proceeded at once to construct an entire system 
 in accordance with his favourite subject. 
 
 LV 
 
 There is one principal and as it wer x e radical distinction between 
 different minds, in respect of philosophy and the sciences; which 
 is this : that some minds are stronger and apter to mark the differ- 
 ences of things, others to mark their resemblances. The steady 
 and acute mind can fix its contemplations and dwell and fasten 
 on the subtlest distinctions: the lofty and discursive mind re- 
 
NOVUM ORGANUM 37 
 
 cognizes and puts together the finest and most general resem- 
 blances. Both kinds however easily err in excess, by catching 
 the one at gradations the other at shadows. 
 
 LVI 
 
 There are found some minds given to an extreme admiration 
 of antiquity, others to an extreme love and appetite for novelty; 
 but few so duly tempered that they can hold the mean, neither 
 carping at what has been well laid down by the ancients, nor 
 despising what is well introduced by the moderns. This, how- 
 ever, turns to the great injury of the sciences and philosophy; 
 since these affectations of antiquity and novelty are the humours 
 of partisans rather than judgments; and truth is to be sought 
 for not in the felicity of any age, which is an unstable thing, 
 but in the light of nature and experience, which is eternal. These 
 factions therefore must be abjured, and care must be taken that 
 the intellect be not hurried by them into assent. 
 
 LVII 
 
 Contemplations of nature and of bodies in their simple form 
 break up and distract the understanding, while contemplations 
 of nature and bodies in their composition and configuration 
 overpower and dissolve the understanding; a distinction well 
 seen in the school of Leucippus and Democritus as compared 
 with the other philosophies. For that school is so busied with 
 the particles that it hardly attends to the structure; while the 
 others are so lost in admiration of the structure that they do not 
 penetrate to the simplicity of nature. These kinds of contempla- 
 tion should therefore be alternated and taken by turns; that so 
 the understanding may be rendered at once penetrating and 
 comprehensive, and the inconveniences above mentioned, with 
 the idols which proceed from them, may be avoided. 
 
 LVIII 
 
 Let such then be our provision and contemplative prudence 
 for keeping off and dislodging the Idols of the Cave, which grow 
 for the most part either out of the predominance of a favourite 
 subject, or out of an excessive tendencv to compare or to dis- 
 tinguish, or out of partiality for particular ages, or out of the 
 largeness or minuteness of the objects contemplated. And gen- 
 
38 BACON 
 
 erally let every student of nature take this as a rule, that what- 
 ever his mind seizes and dwells upon with peculiar satisfaction 
 is to be held in suspicion, and that so much the more care is to 
 be taken in dealing with such questions to keep the understanding 
 even and clear. 
 
 LIX 
 
 But the Idols of the Market-place are the most troublesome 
 of all: idols which have crept into the understanding through 
 the alliances of words and names. For men believe that their 
 reason governs words; but it is also true that words react on the 
 understanding; and this it is that has rendered philosophy and 
 the sciences sophistical and inactive. Now words, being com- 
 monly framed and applied according to the capacity of the 
 vulgar, follow those lines of division which are most obvious to 
 the vulgar understanding. And whenever an understanding of 
 greater acuteness or a more diligent observation would alter 
 those lines to suit the true divisions of nature, words stand in 
 the way and resist the change. Whence it comes to pass that 
 the high and formal discussions of learned men end often- 
 times in disputes about words and names; with which (accord- 
 ing to the use and wisdom of the mathematicians) it would be 
 more prudent to begin, and so by means of definitions reduce 
 them to order. Yet even definitions cannot cure this evil in 
 dealing, with natural and material things; since the definitions 
 themselves consist of words, and those words beget others: so 
 that it is necessary to recur to individual instances, and those 
 in due series and order; as I shall say presently when I come to 
 the method and scheme for the formation of notions and axioms. 
 
 LX 
 
 The idols imposed by words on the understanding are of 
 two kinds. They are either names of things which do not exist 
 (for as there are things left unnamed through lack of observa- 
 tion, so likewise are there names which result from fantastic 
 suppositions and to which nothing in reality corresponds), Or 
 they are names of things which exist, but yet confusedtand ill- 
 defined, and hastily and irregularly derived from realities. Of 
 the former kind are Fortune, the Prime Mover, Planetary Orbits, 
 
 I 
 
NOVUM ORGANUM 39 
 
 Element of Fire, and like fictions which owe their origin to false 
 and idle theories. And this class of idols is more easily expelled, 
 because to get rid of them it is only necessary that all theories 
 should be steadily rejected and dismissed as obsolete. 
 
 But the other class, which springs out of a faulty and unskil-' 
 ful abstraction, is intricate and deeply rooted. Let us take for 
 example such a word as humid; and see how far the several things 
 which the word is used to signify agree with each other; and we 
 shall find the word humid to be nothing else than a mark loosely 
 and confusedly applied to denote a variety of actions which will 
 not bear to be reduced to any constant meaning. For it both signi- 
 fies that which easily spreads itself round any other body; and 
 that which in itself is indeterminate and cannot solidize ; and that 
 which readily yields in every direction; and that which easily 
 divides and scatters itself; and that which easily unites and 
 collects itself; and that which readily flows and is put in motion; 
 and that which readily clings to another body and wets it; and 
 that which is easily reduced to a liquid, or being solid easily 
 melts. Accordingly when you come to apply the word, if you 
 take it in one sense, flame is humid; if in another, air is not humid; 
 if in another, fine dust is humid; if in another, glass is humid. 
 So that it is easy to see that the notion is taken by abstraction 
 only from water and common and ordinary liquids, without 
 any due verification. 
 
 There are however in words certain degrees of distortion 
 and error. One of the least faulty kinds is that of names of 
 substances, especially of lowest species and well-deduced (for 
 the notion of chalk and of mud is good, of earth bad) ; a more 
 faulty kind is that of actions, as to generate, to corrupt, to alter; 
 the most faulty is of qualities (except such as are the immediate 
 objects of the sense), as heavy, light, rare, dense, and the like. 
 Yet in all these cases some notions are of necessity a little bet- 
 ter than others, in proportion to the greater variety of subjects 
 that fall within the range of the human sense. 
 
 LXI 
 
 he Idols o] the Theatre are not innate, nor do they steal 
 into understanding secretly, but are plainly impressed and 
 
40 BACON i 
 
 received into the mind from the play-books of philosophical 
 systems and the perverted rules of demonstration. To attempt 
 refutations in this case would be merely inconsistent with what 
 I have already said: for since we agree neither upon principles 
 nor upon demonstrations there is no place for argument. And 
 this is so far well, inasmuch as it leaves the honour of the ancients 
 untouched. For they are no wise disparaged the question 
 between them and me being only as to the way. For as the 
 saying is, the lame man who keeps the right road outstrips the 
 runner who takes a wrong one. Nay it is obvious that when a 
 man runs the wrong way, the more active and swift he is the 
 further he will go astray. 
 
 But the course I propose for the discovery of sciences is such 
 as leaves but little to the acuteness and strength of wits, but 
 places all wits and understandings nearly on a level. For as in 
 the drawing of a straight line or a perfect circle, much depends 
 on the steadiness and practice of the hand, if it be done by aim 
 of hand only, but if with the aid of rule and compass, little or 
 nothing; so is it exactly with my plan. But though particular 
 confutations would be of no avail, yet touching the sects and gen- 
 eral divisions of such systems I must say something; something 
 also touching the external signs which show that they are un- 
 sound; and finally something touching the causes of such great 
 infelicity and of such lasting and general agreement in error; 
 that so the access to truth may be made less difficult, and the 
 human understanding may the more willingly submit to its 
 purgation and dismiss its idols. 
 
 LXII 
 
 Idols of the Theatre, or of Systems, are many, and there can 
 be and perhaps will be yet many more. For were it not that now 
 for many ages men's minds have been busied with religion and 
 theology; and were it not that civil governments, especially 
 monarchies, have been averse to such novelties, even in matters 
 speculative; so that men labour therein to the peril and harming 
 of their fortunes, not only unrewarded, but exposed also to 
 contempt and envy; doubtless there would have arisen many 
 other philosophical sects like to those which in great variety 
 
NOVUM ORGANUM 41 
 
 flourished once among the Greeks. For as on the phenomena 
 of the heavens many hypotheses may be .constructed, so likewise 
 (and more also) many various dogmas may be set up and estab- 
 lished on the phenomena of philosophy. And "in the plays of 
 this philosophical theatre you may observe the same thing which 
 is found in the theatre of the poets, that stories invented for the 
 stage are more compact and elegant, and more as one would 
 wish them to be, than true stories out of history. & 
 
 In general however there is taken for the material of phi- 
 losophy either a great deal out of a few things, or a very little 
 out of many things; so that on both sides philosophy is based 
 on too narrow a foundation of experiment and natural history, 
 and decides on the authority of too few cases. For the Rational 
 School of philosophers snatches from experience a variety of 
 common instances, neither duly ascertained nor diligently exam- 
 ined and weighed, and leaves all the rest to meditation and agita- 
 tion of wit. 
 
 There is also another class of philosophers, who having be- 
 stowed much diligent and careful labour on a few experiments, 
 have thence made bold to educe and construct systems; wresting 
 all other facts in a strange fashion to conformity therewith. 
 
 And there is yet a third class, consisting of those who out of 
 faith and veneration mix their philosophy with theology and tra- ^ 
 ditions; among whom the vanity of some has gone so far aside as. v 
 to seek the origin of sciences among spirits and genii. So that this * \ ^ 
 parent stock of errors this false philosophy is of three kinds; 
 the Sophistical, the Empirical, and the Superstitious. 
 
 LXIII 
 
 The most conspicuous example of the first class was Aristotle, 
 who corrupted natural philosophy by his logic : fashioning the 
 world out of categories ; assigning to the human soul, the noblest 
 of substances, a genus from words of the second intention; doing 
 the business of density and rarity (which is to make bodies of 
 greater or less dimensions, that is, occupy greater or less spaces), 
 by the frigid distinction of act and power; asserting that single 
 bodies have each a single and proper motion, and that if they 
 participate in any other, then this results from an external cause; 
 
42 BACON 
 
 and imposing countless other arbitrary restrictions on the nature 
 of things; being always more solicitous to provide an answer 
 to the question and affirm something positive in words, than 
 about the inner truth of things; a failing best shown when his 
 philosophy is compared with other systems of note among the 
 Greeks. For the Homceomera of Anaxagoras; the Atoms of 
 Leucippus and Democritus; the Heaven and Earth of Parmen- 
 ides; the Strife and Friendship of Empedocles; Heraclitus's 
 doctrine how bodies are resolved into the indifferent nature 
 of fire, and remoulded into solids; have all of them some taste 
 of the natural philosopher, some savour of the nature of 
 things, and experience, and bodies; whereas in the physics of 
 Aristotle you hear hardly anything but the words of logic; which 
 in his metaphysics also, under a more imposing name, and more 
 forsooth as a realist than a nominalist, he has handled over again. 
 Nor let any weight be given to the fact, that in his books on 
 animals and his problems, and other of his treatises, there is 
 frequent dealing with experiments. For he had come to his con- 
 clusion before; he did not consult experience, as he should have 
 done, in order to the framing of his decisions and axioms; 
 but having first determined the question according to his will, 
 he then resorts to experience, and bending her into conformity 
 with his placets leads her about like a captive in a procession ; 
 so that even on this count he is more guilty than his modern 
 followers, the schoolmen, who have abandoned experience alto- 
 gether. ^ 
 
 LXIV 
 
 But the Empirical school of philosophy gives birth to dogmas 
 more deformed and monstrous than the Sophistical or Rational 
 school. For it has its foundations not in the light of common 
 notions (which though it be a faint and superficial light, is yet 
 in a manner universal, and has reference to many things) but in 
 the narrowness and darkness of a few experiments. To those 
 therefore who are daily busied with these experiments, and have 
 infected their imagination with them, such a philosophy seems 
 probable and all but certain; to all men else incredible and vain. 
 Of this there is a notable instance in the alchemists and thei r 
 
NOVUM ORGANUM 43 
 
 dogmas; though it is hardly to be found elsewhere in these times, 
 except perhaps in the philosophy of Gilbert. Nevertheless with 
 regard to philosophies of this kind there is one caution not to be 
 omitted; for I foresee that if ever men are roused by my admo- ^/ 
 nitipns to betake themselves seriously to experiment and bid / 
 farewell to sophistical doctrines, then indeed through the pre- 
 mature hurry of the understanding to leap or fly to universals 
 and principles of things, great danger may be apprehended from 
 philosophies of this kind ; against which evil we ought even now 
 to prepare. 
 
 LXV 
 
 But the corruption of philosophy by superstition and an ad- 
 mixture of theology is far more widely spread, and does the 
 greatest harm, whether to entire systems or to their parts. For - " 
 the human understanding is obnoxious to the influence of the 
 imagination no less than to the influence of common notions. 
 For the contentious and sophistical kind of philosophy ensnares 
 the understanding; but this kind, being fanciful and tumid, 
 and half poetical, misleads it more by flattery. For there is in X 
 man an ambition of the understanding, no less than of the will, 
 especially in high and lofty spirits. 
 
 Of this kind we iiave among the Greeks a striking example { 
 in Pythagoras, though he united with it a coarser and more cum-* 
 brous superstition; another in Plato and his school, more danger- 
 ous and subtle. It shows itself likewise in parts of ot'her'pTlllo- 
 sophies, in the introduction of abstract forms and final causes 
 and first causes, with the omission in most cases of causes in- 
 termediate, and the like. Upon this point the greatest caution 
 
 ud be used. For nothing is so mischievous as the apotheosi^ - 
 of error; and it is a very plague of the understanding for vanity* 
 to become the object of veneration. Yet in this vanity some of the, 
 moderns have with extreme levity indulged so far as to attempt; 
 to found a system of natural philosophy on the first chapter of 
 , sis, on the bQok of Job, and other parts of the sacred writ-; 
 ings; seeking for the dead among the living; which also makes 
 the inhibition and repression of it the more important, because 
 this unwholesome mixture of things human and divine 
 
44 BACON 
 
 there arises not only a fantastic philosophy but also an heretical 
 religion. Very, meet it is therefore that we be sober-minded, and 
 give to faith that only which is faith's.// 
 
 LXVI 
 
 So much then for the mischievous authorities of systems, 
 which are founded either on common notions, or on a few experi- 
 ments, or on superstition. It remains to speak of the faulty sub- 
 ject-matter of contemplations, especially in natural philosophy. 
 Now the human understanding is infected by the sight of what 
 takes place .in the mechanical arts, in which the alteration of 
 bodies proceeds chiefly by composition or separation, and so 
 imagines that something similar goes on in the universal nature 
 of things. From this source has flowed the fiction of elements, 
 and of their concourse for the formation of natural bodies. 
 Again, when man contemplates nature working freely, he meets 
 with different species of things, of animals, of plants, of minerals; 
 whence he readily passes into the opinion that there are in nature 
 certain primary forms which nature intends to educe, and that 
 the remaining variety proceeds from hindrances and aberrations 
 of nature in the fulfilment of her work, or from the collision of 
 different species and the transplanting of one into another. To 
 the first of these speculations we owe our primary qualities of 
 the elements; to the other our occult properties and specific 
 virtues; and both of them belong to those empty compendia of 
 thought wherein the mind rests, and whereby it is diverted from 
 more solid pursuits. It is to better purpose that the physicians 
 bestow their labour on the secondary qualities of matter, and 
 the operations of attraction, repulsion, attenuation, conspissation, 
 dilatation, astriction, dissipation, maturation, and the like; and 
 were it not that by those two compendia which I have men- 
 tioned (elementary qualities, to wit, and specific virtues) they 
 corrupted their correct observations in these other matters, - 
 either reducing them to first qualities and their subtle and in- 
 commensurable mixtures, or not following them out with greater 
 and more diligent observation to third and fourth qualities, by 
 breaking off the scrutiny prematurely, they had made much 
 greater progress. Nor are powers of this kind (I do not say the 
 
NOVUM ORGANUM 45 
 
 same, but similar) to be sought for only in the medicines of the 
 human body, but also in the changes of all other bodies. 
 
 But it is a far greater evil that they make the quiescent prin- 
 ciples, wherefrom, and not the moving principles, whereby, things 
 are produced, the object of their contemplation and inquiry. 
 For the former tend to discourse, the latter to works. Nor is there 
 any value in those vulgar distinctions of motion which are ob- 
 served in the received system of natural philosophy, as gen- 
 eration, corruption, augmentation, diminution, alteration, and 
 local motion. What they mean no doubt is this: If a body in 
 other respects not changed, be moved from its place, this is local 
 motion; if without change of place or essence, it be changed in 
 quality, this is alteration; if by reason of the change the mass and 
 quantity of the body do not remain the same, this is augmenta- 
 tion or diminution; if they be changed to such a degree that they 
 change their very essence and substance and turn to something 
 else, this is generation and corruption. But all this is merely 
 popular, and does not at all go deep into nature; for these are 
 only measures and limits, not kinds of motion. What they in-~ 
 timate is how far, not by what means, or }rom what source. For", 
 they do not suggest anything with regard either to the desires 
 of bodies or to the development of their parts: it is only when ~ 
 that motion presents the thing grossly and palpably to the sense 
 as different from what it was, that they begin to mark the division. , 
 Even when they wish to suggest something with regard to the , 
 causes of motion, and to establish a division with reference to 
 them, they introduce with the greatest negligence a distinction 
 between motion natural and violent; a distinction which is itself 
 drawn entirely from a vulgar notion, since all violent motion is 
 also in fact natural; the external efficient simply setting nature 
 working otherwise than it was before. But if, leaving all this, ' 
 any one shall observe (for instance) that there is in bodies a desire 
 of mutual contact, so as not to suffer the unity of nature to be 
 quite separated or broken and a vacuum thus made; or if any 
 one say that there is in bodies a desire of resuming their natural 
 dimensions or tension, so that if compressed within or extended 
 beyond them, they immediately strive to recover themselves, 
 
46 BACON 
 
 and fall back to their old volume and extent ; or if any one say 
 that there is in bodies a desire of congregating towards masses 
 of kindred nature, of dense bodies, for instance, towards the 
 globe of the earth, of thin and rare bodies towards the compass 
 of the sky; all these and the like are truly physical kinds of 
 motion, but those others are entirely logical and scholastic, 
 as is abundantly manifest from this comparison. 
 
 Nor again is it a less evil, that in their philosophies and con- 
 templations their labour is spent in investigating and handling 
 the first principles of things and the highest generalities of na- 
 ture; whereas utility and the means of working result entirely 
 from things intermediate. Hence it is that men cease not from 
 abstracting nature till they come to potential and uninformed 
 matter, nor on the other hand from dissecting nature till they 
 reach the atom; things which, even if true, can do but little 
 for the welfare of mankind. 
 
 LXVII 
 
 A caution must also be given to the understanding against the 
 intemperance which systems of philosophy manifest in giving 
 or withholding assent ; because intemperance of this kind seems 
 to establish Idols and in some sort to perpetuate them, leaving 
 no way open to reach and dislodge them. 
 
 This excess is of two kinds: the first being manifest in those 
 who are ready in deciding, and render sciences dogmatic and 
 magisterial ; the other in those who deny that we can know any- 
 thing, and so introduce a wandering kind of inquiry that leads 
 to nothing; of which kinds the former subdues, the latter weak- 
 ens the understanding. For the philosophy of Aristotle, after 
 having by hostile confutations destroyed all the rest (as the 
 Ottomans serve their brothers), has laid down the law on all 
 points; which done, he proceeds himself to raise new questions 
 of his own suggestion, and dispose of them likewise; so that no- 
 thing may remain that is not certain and decided: a practice 
 which holds and is in use among his successors. 
 
 The school of Plato, on the other hand, introduced Acatalepsia, 
 at first in jest and irony, and in disdain of the older sophists, 
 Protagoras, Hippias, and the rest, who were of nothing eke so 
 
NOVUM ORGANUM 47 
 
 much ashamed as of seeming to doubt about anything. But the 
 New Academy made a dogma of it, and held it as a tenet. And 
 though theirs is a fairer seeming way than arbitrary decisions; 
 since they say that they by no means destroy all investigation, 
 like Pyrrho and his Refrainers, but allow of some things to be 
 followed as probable, though of none to be maintained as true ; 
 yet still when the human mind has once despaired of finding 
 truth, its interest in all things grows fainter; and the result is 
 that men turn aside to pleasant disputations and discourses and 
 roam as it were from object to object, rather than keep on a 
 course of severe inquisition. But, as I said at the beginning and 
 am ever urging, the human senses and understanding, weak as 
 they are, are not to be deprived of their authority, but to be sup- 
 plied with helps. 
 
 LXVIII 
 
 So much concerning the several classes of Idols, and their 
 equipage: all of which must be renounced and put away with 
 a fixed and solemn determination, and the understanding 
 thoroughly freed and cleansed; the entrance into the kingdom 
 of man, founded on the sciences, being not much other than the 
 entrance into the kingdom of heaven, whereinto none may enter 
 except as a little child. 
 
 LXIX 
 
 But vicious demonstrations are as the strongholds and de- 
 fences of Idols; and those we have in logic do little else than 
 make the world the bond-slave of human thought, and human 
 thought the bond-slave of words. Demonstrations truly are 
 in effect the philosophies themselves and the sciences. For such 
 as they are, well or ill established, such are the systems of philo- 
 sophy and the contemplations which follow. Now in the whole 
 of the process which leads from the sense and objects to axioms 
 and conclusions, the demonstrations which we use are deceptive 
 and incompetent. This process consists of four parts, and has 
 as many faults. In the first place, the impressions of the sense 
 itself are faulty; for the sense both fails us and deceives us. But 
 its short-comings are to be supplied, and its deceptions to be 
 corrected. Secondly, notions are ill drawn from the impression 
 
48 BACON 
 
 of the senses, and are indefinite and confused, whereas they 
 should be definite and distinctly bounded. Thirdly, the induction 
 is amiss which infers the principles of sciences by simple enume- 
 ration, and does not, as' it ought, employ exclusions and solutions 
 (or separations) of nature. Lastly, that method of discovery and 
 proof according to which the most general principles are first 
 established, and then intermediate axioms are tried and proved 
 by them, is the parent of error and the curse of all science. Of 
 these things however, which now I do but touch upon, I will 
 speak more largely, when, having performed these expiations and 
 purgings of the mind, I c.ome to set forth the true way |or the 
 interpretation of nature. 
 
 "INDUCTION" 
 
 xcn 
 
 But by far the greatest' obstacle to the progress of science and 
 to the undertaking of new tasks and provinces therein, is found 
 in this that men despair and think things impossible. For wise 
 and serious men are wont in these matters to be altogether dis- 
 trustful; considering with themselves the obscurity of nature, 
 the shortness of life, the deceitfulness of the senses, the weakness 
 of the judgment, the difficulty of experiment and the like; and 
 so supposing that in the revolution of time and of the ages of the 
 world the sciences have their ebbs and flows; that at one season 
 they grow and flourish, at another wither and decay, yet in such 
 sort that when they have reached a certain point and condition 
 they can advance no further. If therefore any one believes or 
 promises more, they think this comes of an ungoverned and un- 
 ripened mind, and that such attempts have prosperous beginnings, 
 become difficult as they go on, and end in confusion. Now since 
 these are thoughts which naturally present themselves to grave 
 men and of great judgment, we must take good heed that we be 
 not led away by our love for a most fair and excellent object to 
 relax or dimmish the severity of our judgment; we must observe 
 diligently what encouragement dawns upon us and from what 
 quarter; and, putting aside the lighter breezes of hope, we must 
 
NOVUM ORGANUM 49 
 
 thoroughly sift and examine those which promise greater steadi- 
 ness and constancy. Nay, and we must take state-prudence too 
 into our counsels, whose rule is to distrust, and to take the less 
 favourable view of human affairs. I am now therefore to speak 
 touching Hope; especially as I am not a dealer in promises, and 
 wish neither to force nor to ensnare men's judgments, but to lead 
 them by the hand with their good will. And though the strongest 
 means of inspiring hope will be to bring men to particulars; 
 especially to particulars digested and arranged in my Tables of 
 Discovery (the subject partly of the second, but much more of 
 the fourth part of my Instauration), since this is not merely the 
 promise of the thing but the thing itself; nevertheless that every- 
 thing rriay be done with gentleness, I will proceed with my plan 
 of preparing men's minds; of which preparation to give hope 
 is no unimportant part. For without it the rest tends rather to 
 make men sad (by giving them a worse and meaner opinion of 
 things as they are than they now have, and making them more 
 fully to feel and know the unhappiness of their own condition) 
 than to induce any alacrity or to whet their industry in making 
 trial. And therefore it is fit that I publish and set forth those 
 conjectures of mine which make hope in this matter reasonable; 
 just as Columbus did, before that wonderful voyage of his across 
 the Atlantic, when he gave the reasons for his conviction that 
 new lands and continents might be discovered besides those which 
 were known before ; which reasons, though rejected at first, were 
 afterwards made good by experience, and were the causes and 
 beginnings of great events. 
 
 N , xcin 
 
 The beginning is from God ! for the business which is in hand, 
 having the character of good so strongly impressed upon it, ap- 
 pears manifestly to proceed from God, who is the author of 
 good, and the Father of Lights. Now in divine operations even 
 the smallest beginnings lead of a certainty to their end. And 
 as it was said of spiritual things, "The kingdom of God cometh 
 not with observation/' so is it in all the greater works of Divine 
 Providence; everything glidesjm^.sjaaoothly and noiselessly, and 
 the work is fairly going on before men are aware that it has begun. 
 
50 BACON 
 
 Nor should the prophecy of Daniel be forgotten, touching the 
 last ages of the world: "Many shall go to and fro, and know- 
 ledge shall be increased;" clearly intimating that the thorough 
 passage of the world (which now by so many distant voyages 
 seems to be accomplished, or in course of accomplishment), 
 and the advancement of the sciences, are destined by fate, that 
 is, by Divine Providence, to meet in the same age. 
 
 xciv 
 
 Next comes a consideration of the greatest importance as an 
 argument of hope; I mean that drawn from the errors of past 
 time, and of the ways hitherto trodden. For most excellent was 
 the censure once passed upon a Government that had been un- 
 wisely administered. "That which is the worst thing in reference 
 to the past, ought to be regarded as best for the future. For if 
 you had done all that your duty demanded, and yet your affairs 
 were no better, you would not have even a hope left you that 
 further improvement is possible. But now, when your misfor- 
 tunes are owing, not to the force of circumstances, but to your 
 own errors, you may hope that by dismissing or correcting these 
 errors, a great change may be made for the better." In like man- 
 ner, if during so long a course of years men had kept the true 
 road for discovering and cultivating sciences, and had yet been 
 unable to make further progress therein, bold doubtless and 
 rash would be the opinion that further progress is possible. But 
 if the road itself has been mistaken, and men's labour spent 
 on unfit objects, it follows that the difficulty has its rise not in 
 things themselves, which are not in our power, but in the human 
 understanding, and the use and application thereof, which ad- 
 mits of remedy and medicine. It will be of great use there- 
 fore to set forth what these errors are ; for as many impediments 
 as there have been in times past from this cause, so many argu- 
 ments are there of hope for the time to come. And although 
 they have been partly touched before, I think fit here also, in 
 plain and simple words, to represent them. 
 
 xcv 
 
 Those who have handled sciences have been either men of 
 experiment or men of dogmas. The men of experiment are like 
 
NOVUM ORGANUM 51 
 
 the ant ; they only collect and use : the reasoners resemble spiders, 
 who make cobwebs out of their own substance. But the bee takes 
 a middle course ; it gathers its material from the flowers of the 
 garden and of the field, but transforms and digests it by a power 
 of its own. Not unlike this is the true business of philosophy; 
 for it neither relies solely or chiefly on the powers of the mind, 
 nor does it take the matter which it gathers from natural history 
 and mechanical experiments and lay it up in the memory whole, 
 as it finds it; but lays it up in the understanding altered and 
 digested. Therefore from a closer and purer league between 
 these two faculties, the experimental and the rational (such-fas 
 has never yet been made), much may be hoped. 
 
 xcvi 
 
 We have as yet no natural philosophy that is pure ; all is tainted 
 and corrupted; in Aristotle's school by logic; in Plato's by 
 natural theology; in the second school of Platonists, such as 
 Proclus and others, by mathematics, which ought only to give 
 definiteness to natural philosophy, not to generate or give it 
 birth. From a natural philosophy pure and unmixed, better 
 things are to be expected. 
 
 XCVII 
 
 No one has yet been found so firm of mind and purpose as 
 resolutely to compel himself to sweep away all theories and com- 
 mon notions, and to apply the understanding, thus made fair 
 and even, to a fresh examination of particulars. Thus it happens 
 that human knowledge, as we have it, is a mere medley and ill- ] 
 digested mass, made up of much credulity and much accident, I 
 and also of the childish notions which we at first imbibed. 
 
 Now if any one of ripe age, unimpaired senses, and well-purged 
 mind, apply himself anew to experience and particulars, better 
 hopes may be entertained of that man. In which point I promise 
 to myself a like fortune to that of Alexander the Great; and let 
 no man tax me with vanity till he have heard the end; for the 
 thing which I mean tends to the putting off of all vanity. For 
 of Alexander and ms deeds ^Eschines spake thus: "Assuredly 
 we do not live the life of mortal men; but to this end were we 
 born, that in after ages wonders might be told of us;" as if what 
 
52 BACON 
 
 Alexander had done seemed to him miraculous. But in the next 
 age Titus Livius took a better and a deeper view of the matter, 
 saying in effect, that Alexander "had done no more than take 
 courage to despise vain apprehensions." And a like judgment 
 I suppose may be passed on myself in future ages: that I did 
 no great things, but simply made less account of things that were 
 accounted great. In the meanwhile, as I have already said, there 
 is no hope except in a new birth of science; that is, in raising 
 it regularly up from experience and building it afresh; which 
 no one (I think) will say has yet been done or thought of. 
 
 XCVIII 
 
 Now for grounds of experience since to experience we must 
 come we have as yet had either, none or very weak ones ; no 
 search has been made to collect a store of particular observations 
 sufficient either in number, or in kind, or in certainty, to inform 
 the understanding, or in any way adequate. On the contrary, 
 men of learning, but easy withal arid idle, have taken for the 
 construction or for the confirmation of their philosophy certain 
 rumours and vague fames or airs of experience, and allowed to 
 these the weight of lawful evidence. And just as if some king- 
 dom or state were to direct its counsels and affairs, not by letters 
 and reports from ambassadors and trustworthy messengers, but 
 by the gossip of the streets; such exactly is the system of man- 
 agement introduced into philosophy with relation to experience. 
 Nothing duly investigated, nothing verified, nothing counted. 
 wJghed ? or measured, is to be found in natural history : and 
 what in observation is loose and vague, is in information decep- 
 tive and treacherous. And if any one thinks that this is a strange 
 thing to say, and something like an unjust complaint, seeing 
 that Aristotle, himself so great a man, and supported by the 
 wealth of so great a king, has composed so accurate a history 
 of animals; and that others with greater diligence, though less 
 pretence, have made many additions; while others, again, have 
 compiled copious histories and descriptions of metals, plants, 
 and fossils; it seems that he does not rightly apprehend what it 
 is that we are now about. For a natural history which is com- 
 posed for its own sake is not like one that is collected to supply 
 
NOVUM ORGANUM 53 
 
 the understanding with information for the building up of 
 philosophy. They differ in many ways, but especially in this; 
 that the former contains the variety of natural species only, and 
 not experiment of the mechanical arts. For even as in the busi- 
 ness of life a man's disposition and the secret workings of his 
 mind and affections are better discovered when he is in trouble 
 than at other times; so likewise the secrets of Nature reveal 
 themselves more readily under the vexations of art than when 
 they go their own way. Good hopes may therefore be con- 
 ceived of natural philosophy, when natural history, which is 
 the basis and foundation of it, has been drawn up on a better 
 plan ; but not till then. 
 
 xcix 
 
 Again, even in the great plenty of mechanical experiments, 
 there is yet a great scarcity of those which are of most use for the 
 information of the understanding. For the mechanic, not trou- 
 bling himself with the investigation of truth, confines his atten- 
 tion to those things which bear upon his particular work, and 
 will not either raise his mind or stretch out his hand for anything 
 else. But then only will there be good ground of hope for the 
 further advance of knowledge, when there shall be received and 
 gathered together into natural history a variety of experiments, 
 which are of no use in themselves, but simply serve to discover 
 causes and axioms ; which I call " Experimenta lucifera" expe- 
 riments of light, to distinguish them from those which I call 
 " fructifera" experiments of fruit. 
 
 Now experiments of this kind have one admirable property 
 and condition; they never miss or fail. For since they are ap- 
 plied, not for the purpose of producing any particular effect, but 
 only of discovering the natural cause of some effect, they answer 
 the end equally well which ever way they turn out; for they 
 settle the question. 
 
 c 
 
 But not only is a greater abundance of experiments to be sought 
 for and procured, and that too of a different kind from those 
 hitherto tried; an entirely different method, order, and proce: 
 for carrying on and advancing experience must also be intrc 
 
54 BACON 
 
 duced. For experience, when it wanders in its own track, is, as 
 I have already remarked, mere groping in the dark, and con- 
 founds men rather than instructs them. But when it shall pro- 
 ceed in accordance with a fixed law, in regular order, and without 
 interruption, then may better things be hoped of knowledge. 
 
 ci 
 
 But even after such a store of natural history and experience 
 as is required for the work of the understanding, or of philosophy, 
 shall be ready to hand, still the understanding is by no means 
 competent to deal with it off-hand and by memory alone; no 
 more than if a man should hope by force of memory to retain and 
 make himself master of the computation of an ephemeris. And 
 yet hitherto more has been done in matter of invention by think- 
 ing than by writing; and experience has not yet learned her 
 letters. Now no course of invention can be satisfactory unless 
 it be carried on in writing. But when this is brought into use, 
 and experience has been taught to read and write, better things 
 may be hoped. 
 
 en 
 
 Moreover, since there is so great a number and army of par- 
 ticulars, and that army so scattered and dispersed as to distract 
 and confound the understanding, little is to be hoped for from 
 the skirmishings and slight attacks and desultory movements 
 of the intellect, unless all the particulars which pertain to the 
 subject of inquiry shall, by means of Tables of Discovery, apt, 
 well arranged, and as it were animate, be drawn up and mar- 
 shalled; and the mind be set to work upon the helps duly pre- 
 pared and digested which these tables supply. 
 
 cm 
 
 But after this store of particulars has been set out duly and in 
 order before our eyes, we are not to pass at once to the investiga- 
 tion and discovery of new particulars or works; or at any rate if 
 we do so we must not stop there. For although I do not deny that 
 when all the experiments of all the arts shall have been collected 
 and digested, and brought within one man's knowledge and 
 judgment, the mere transferring of the experiments of one art 
 to others may lead, by means of that experience which I term 
 
NOVUM ORGANUM 55 
 
 literate, to the discovery of many new things of service to the 
 life and state of man, yet it is no great matter that can be hoped 
 from that; but from the new light of axioms, which having been 
 educed from those particulars by a certain method and rule, 
 shall in their turn point out the way again to new particulars, 
 greater things may be looked for. For our road does not lie on 
 a level, but ascends and descends; first ascending to axioms, 
 then descending to works. 
 
 civ 
 
 The understanding must not however be allowed to jump and 
 fly from particulars to remote axioms and of almost the highest 
 generality (such as the first principles, as they are called, of arts 
 and things), and taking stand upon them as truths that cannot 
 be shaken, proceed to prove and frame the middle axioms by 
 reference to them; which has been the practice hitherto; .the 
 understanding being not only carried that way by a natural im- 
 pulse, but also by the use of syllogistic demonstration trained 
 and inured to it. But then, and then only, may we hope well 
 of the sciences, when in a just scale of ascent, and by successive 
 steps not interrupted or broken, we rise from particulars to lesser 
 axioms; and then to middle axioms, one above the other; and 
 last of all to the most general. For the lowest axioms differ but 
 slightly from bare experience, while the highest and most general 
 (which we now have) are notional and abstract and without 
 solidity. But the middle are the true and solid and living axioms, 
 on which depend the affairs and fortunes of men; and above 
 them again, last of all, those which are indeed the most general; 
 such I mean as are not abstract, but of which those intermediate 
 axioms are really limitations. 
 
 The understanding must not therefore be supplied with 
 wings, but rather hung with weights, to keep it from leaping and 
 flying. Now this has never yet been done; when it is done, we 
 may entertain better hopes of the sciences. 
 
 cv 
 
 In establishing axioms, another form of induction must be 
 devised than has hitherto been employed; and it must be used 
 for proving and discovering not first principles (as they are called) 
 
56 BACON 
 
 only, but also the lesser axioms, and the middle, and indeed all. 
 For the induction which proceeds by simple enumeration is 
 childish; its conclusions are precarious, and exposed to peril 
 from a contradictory instance; and it generally decides on too 
 small a number of facts, and on those only which are at hand. 
 But the induction which is to be available for the discovery and 
 demonstration of sciences and arts, must analyse nature by 
 proper rejections and exclusions; and 'then, after a sufficient 
 number of negatives, come to a conclusion on the affirmative 
 instances : which has not yet been done or even attempted, save 
 only by Plato, who does indeed employ this form of induction 
 to a certain extent for the purpose of discussing definitions and 
 ideas. But in order to furnish this induction or demonstration 
 well and duly for its work, very many things are to be provided 
 which no mortal has yet thought of; insomuch that greater labour 
 will have to be spent in it than has hitherto been spent on the 
 syllogism. And this induction must be used not only to discover 
 axioms, but also in the formation of notions. And it is in this in- 
 duction that our chief hope lies. 
 
 cvi 
 
 But in establishing axioms by this kind of induction, we must 
 also examine and try whether the axiom so established be framed 
 to the measure of those particulars only from which it is derived, 
 or whether it be larger and wider. And if it be larger and wider, 
 we must observe whether by indicating to us new particulars it 
 confirm that wideness and largeness as by a collateral security; 
 that we may not either stick fast in things already known, or 
 loosely grasp at shadows and abstract form; not at things solid 
 and realised in matter. And when this process shall have come 
 into use, then at last shall we see the dawn of a solid hope. 
 
; 
 
 THOMAS HOBBES 
 
 (1588-1679) 
 
 LEVIATHAN* 
 
 OR THE MATTER, FORM, AND POWER OF A COM- 
 MONWEALTH, ECCLESIASTICAL AND CIVIL 
 
 PART I. OF MAN 
 CHAPTER I. OF SENSE 
 
 CONCERNING the thoughts of man, I will consider them first 
 singly, and afterwards in train, or dependence .upon one another. 
 Singly, they are every one a representation or appearance, of som* 
 quality, or other accident of a body without us, which is com- 
 monly called an object. Which object worketh on the eyes, ears, 
 and other parts of a man's body; and by diversity of working, 
 produceth diversity of appearances. 
 
 The original of them all, is that which we call SENSE, for there 
 is no conception in a mail's mind, which hath not at first, totally 
 or by parts, been begotten upon the organs of sense. The rest 
 are derived from that original. 
 
 To know the natural cause of sense, is not very necessary to 
 the business now in hand ; and I have elsewhere written of th 
 same at large. Nevertheless, to fill each part of my present 
 method, I will briefly deliver the same in this place. 
 
 The cause of sense, is the external body, or object, which 
 presseth the organ proper to each sense, either immediately, as 
 in the taste and touch; or mediately, as in seeing, hearing, and 
 smelling; which pressure, by the mediation of the nerves, and 
 other strings and membranes of the body, continued inwards 
 to the brain and heart, causeth there a resistance, or counter 
 
 * Leviathan, first edition, London, 1651. Reprinted here from Hobbes' Eng- 
 lish Works, collected and edited by Sir William Molesworth, London, 1839, 
 vol. iii. 
 
58 HOBBES 
 
 pressure or endeavour of the heart to deliver itself, which en- 
 deavour, because outward, seemeth to be some matter without. 
 And this seeming, or fancy, is that which men call sense; and 
 consisteth, as to the eye, in a light, or colour figured; to the ear, in 
 a sound; to the nostril, in an odour; to the tongue and palate, in 
 a savour; and to the rest of the body, in heat, cold, hardness, soft- 
 ness, and such other qualities as we discern by feeling. All which 
 qualities, called sensible, are in the object, that causeth them, but 
 so many several motions of the matter, by which it presseth our 
 organs diversely. Neither in us that are pressed, are they any- 
 thing else, but divers motions; for motion produceth nothing 
 but motion. But their appearance to us is fancy, the same waking, 
 that dreaming. And as pressing, rubbing, or striking the eye, 
 makes us fancy a light; and pressing the ear, produceth a din; 
 ;o do the bodies also we see, or hear, produce the same by their 
 strong, though unobserved action. For if those colours and 
 sounds were in the bodies, or objects that cause them, they could 
 not be severed from them, as by glasses, and in echoes by re- 
 flection, we see they are; where we know the thing we see is in 
 one place, the appearance in another. And though at some 
 certain distance, the real and very object seem invested with the 
 fancy it begets in us; yet still the object is one thing, the image or 
 fancy is another. So that sense, in all cases, is nothing else but 
 original fancy, caused, as I have said, by the pressure, that is, 
 by the motion, of external things upon our eyes, ears, and other 
 organs thereunto ordained. 
 
 But the philosophy- schools, through all the universities of 
 Christendom, grounded upon certain texts of Aristotle, teach 
 another doctrine, and say, for the cause of vision, that the thing 
 seen, sendeth forth on every side a visible species, in English, 
 a visible show, apparition, or aspect, or a being seen; the receiving 
 whereof into the eye, is seeing. And for the cause of hearing, 
 that the thing heard, sendeth forth an audible species, that is an 
 audible aspect, or audible being seen; which entering at the ear, 
 maketh hearing. Nay, for the cause of understanding also, they 
 say the thing understood, sendeth forth an intelligible species, 
 that is, an intelligible being seen; which, coming into the under- 
 
LEVIATHAN 59 
 
 standing, makes us understand. I say not this, as disproving the 
 use of universities; but because I am to speak hereafter of their 
 office in a commonwealth, I must let you see on all occasions by 
 the way, what things would be amended in them; amongst which 
 the frequency of insignificant speech is one. 
 
 CHAPTER II. OF IMAGINATION 
 
 That when a thing lies still, unless somewhat else stir it, it will 
 lie still for ever, is a truth that no man doubts of. But that when 
 a thing is in motion, it will eternally be in motion, unless some- 
 what else stay it, though the reason be the same, namely, that 
 nothing can change itself, is not so easily assented to. For men 
 measure, not only other men, but all other things, by themselves; 
 and because they find themselves subject after motion to pain,*- 
 and lassitude, think everything else grows weary of motion, and 
 seeks repose of its own accord; little considering, whether it be 
 not some other motion, wherein that desire of rest they find in 
 themselves, consisteth. From hence it is, that the schools say, 
 heavy bodies fall downwards, out of an appetite to rest, and to 
 conserve their nature in that place which is most proper for them ; 
 ascribing appetite, and knowledge of what is good for their 
 conservation, which is more than man has, to things inanimate, 
 absurdly. 
 
 When a body is once in motion, it moveth, unless something 
 else hinder it, eternally; and whatsoever hindreth it, cannot in an 
 instant, but in time, and by degrees, quite extinguish it ; and as 
 we see in the water, though the wind cease, the waves give not 
 over rolling for a long time after: so also it happeneth in that 
 motion, which is made in the internal parts of a man, then, when 
 he sees, dreams, &c. For after the object is removed, or the 
 eye shut, we still retain an image of the thing seen, though more 
 obscure than when we see it. And this is it, the Latins call im- 
 agination, from the image made in seeing; and apply the same, 
 though improperly, to all the other senses. But the Greeks call it 
 fancy; which signifies appearance, and is as proper to one sense, 
 as to another. IMAGINATION, therefore, is nothing but decaying 
 
60 HOBBES 
 
 sense; and is found in men, and many other living creatures, as 
 well sleeping, as waking. 
 
 The decay of sense in men waking, is not the decay of the 
 motion made in sense; but an obscuring of it, in such manner 
 as the light of the sun obscureth the light of the stars; which 
 stars do no less exercise their virtue, by which they are visible, 
 in the day than in the night. But because amongst many strokes, 
 which our eyes, ears, and other organs receive from external 
 bodies, the predominant only is sensible; therefore, the light of 
 the sun being predominant, we are not affected with the action of 
 the stars. And any object being removed from our eyes, though 
 the impression it made in us remain, yet other objects more present 
 succeeding, and working on us, the imagination of the past is 
 obscured, and made weak, as the voice of a man is in the noise 
 of the day. From whence it followeth, that the longer the time 
 is, after the sight or sense of any object, the weaker is the imagi- 
 nation. For the continual change of man's body destroys in time 
 the parts which in sense were moved: so that distance of time, 
 and of place, hath one and the same effect in us. For as at a great 
 distance of place, that which we look at appears dim, and without 
 distinction of the smaller parts; and as voices grow weak, and 
 inarticulate; so also, after great distance of time, our imagina- 
 tion of the past is weak; and we lose, for example, of cities we 
 have seen, many particular streets, and of actions, many particular 
 circumstances. This decaying sense, when we would express the 
 thing itself, I mean fancy itself, we call imagination, as I said 
 before : but when we would express the decay, and signify that 
 the sense is fading, old, and past, it is called memory. So that 
 imagination and memory are but one thing, which for divers 
 considerations hath divers names. 
 
 Much memory, or memory of many things, is called experi- 
 ence. Again, imagination being only of those things which have 
 been formerly perceived by sense, either all at once, or by parts 
 at several times, the former, which is the imagining the whole 
 object as it was presented to the sense, is simple imagination, as 
 when one imagineth a man, or horse, which he hath seen before. 
 The other is compounded; as when, from the sight of a man at one 
 
LEVIATHAN 61 
 
 time, and of a horse at another, we conceive in our mind a 
 Centaur. So when a man compoundeth the image of his own 
 person with the image of the actions of another man, as when a 
 man imagines himself a Hercules or an Alexander, which hap- 
 peneth often to them that are much taken with reading of 
 romances, it is a compound imagination, and properly but a 
 fiction of the mind. There be also other imaginations that rise 
 in men, though waking, from the great impression made in 
 sense: as from gazing -upon the sun, the impression leaves an 
 image of the sun before our eyes a long time after; and from 
 being long and vehemently attent upon geometrical figures, a 
 man shall in the dark, though awake, have the images of lines 
 and angles before his eyes; which kind of fancy hath no particular 
 name, as being a thing that doth not commonly fall into men's 
 discourse. 
 
 The imaginations of them that sleep are those we call dreams. 
 And these also, as also all other imaginations, have been before, 
 either totally or by parcels, in the sense. And because in sense, 
 the brain and nerves, which are the necessary organs of sense, 
 are so benumbed in sleep as not easily to be moved by the action 
 of external objects, there can happen in sleep no imagination, 
 and therefore no dream, but what proceeds from the agitation 
 of the inward parts of man's body; which inward parts; for the 
 connexion they have with the brain, and other organs, w.hen 
 they be distempered, do keep the same in motion; whereby the 
 imaginations there formerly made appear as if a man were 
 waking; saving that the organs of sense being now benumbed, 
 so as there is no new object, which can master and obscure them 
 with a more vigorous impression, a dream must needs be more 
 clear, in this silence of sense, than our waking thoughts. And 
 hence it cometh to pass, that it is a hard matter, and by many 
 thought impossible, to distinguish exactly between ser^se and 
 dreaming. For my pi* t, when I consider that in dreams I do not 
 often nor constantly think of the same persons, places, objects, 
 and actions, that I do waking; nor remember so long a train of 
 coherent thoughts, dreaming, as at other times; and because 
 waking I often observe the absurdity of dreams, but never dream 
 
62 HOBBES 
 
 of the absurdities of my waking thoughts; I am well satisfied, 
 that being awake, I know I dream not, though when I dream I 
 think myself awake. 
 
 And seeing dreams are caused by the distemper of some of the 
 inward parts of the body, divers distempers must needs cause 
 different dreams. And hence it is that lying cold breedeth dreams 
 of fear, and raiseth the thought and image of some fearful object, 
 the motion from the brain to the inner parts and from the inner 
 parts to the brain being reciprocal; and that as anger causeth 
 heat in some parts of the body when we are awake, so when 
 we sleep the overheating of the same parts causeth anger, and 
 raiseth up in the brain the imagination of an enemy. In the same 
 manner, as natural kindness, when we are awake, causeth desire, 
 and desire makes heat in certain other parts of the body; so also 
 too much heat in those parts, while we sleep, raiseth in the brain 
 an imagination of some kindness shown. In sum, our dreams 
 are the reverse of our waking imaginations; the motion when we 
 are awake beginning at one end, and when we dream at another. 
 
 The most difficult discerning of a man's dream, from his 
 waking thoughts, is then, when by some accident we observe 
 not that we have slept : which is easy to happen to a man full 
 of fearful thoughts, and whose conscience is much troubled; 
 and that sleepeth, without the circumstances of going to bed or 
 putting off his clothes, as one that noddeth in a chair. For he 
 that taketh pains, and industriously lays himself to sleep, in case 
 any uncouth and exorbitant fancy come unto him, cannot easily 
 think it other than a dream. We read of Marcus Brutus (one 
 that had his life given him by Julius Caesar, and was also his 
 favourite, and notwithstanding murdered him), how at Philippi, 
 the night before he gave battle to Augustus Caesar, he saw a 
 fearful apparition, which is commonly related by historians as a 
 vision; but considering the circumstances. ay easily judge 
 
 to have been but a short dream. For sittr > in us tent, pensive 
 and troubled with the horror of his ras v it was not hard 
 
 for him, slumbering in the cold, to dre that which most 
 
 affrighted him; which fear, as by degi made him wake, 
 
 so also it must needs make the appariti degrees to vanish; 
 
LEVIATHAN 63 
 
 and having no assurance that he slept, he could have no cause to 
 think it a dream, or anything but a vision. And this is no very 
 rare accident ; for even they that be perfectly awake, if they be 
 timorous and superstitious, possessed with fearful tales, and alone 
 in the dark, are subject to the like fancies, and believe they see 
 spirits and dead men's ghosts walking in churchyards; whereas 
 it is either their fancy only, or else the knavery of such persons 
 as make use of such superstitious fear, to pass disguised in the 
 night to places they would not be known to haunt. 
 
 From this ignorance of how to distinguish dreams, and other 
 strong fancies, from vision and sense, did arise the greatest part 
 of the religion of the Gentiles in time past, that worshipped 
 satyrs, fawns, nymphs, and the like; and now-a-days the opinion 
 that rude people have of fairies, ghosts, and goblins, and of the 
 power of witches. For as for witches, I think not that their witch- 
 craft is any real power; but yet that they are justly punished, 
 for the false belief they have that they can do such mischief, 
 joined with their purpose to do it if they can; their trade being 
 nearer to a new religion than to a craft or science. And for fairies, 
 and walking ghosts, the opinion of them has, I think, been on 
 purpose either taught or not confuted, to keep in credit the use 
 of exorcism, of crosses, of holy water, and other such inventions 
 of ghostly men. Nevertheless, there is no doubt but God can 
 make unnatural apparitions; but that He does it so often as 
 men need to fear such things more than they fear the stay or 
 change of the course of nature, which He also can stay and 
 change is no point of Christian faith. But evil men, under pre- 
 text that God can do anything, are so bold as to say any thing 
 when it serves their turn, though they think it untrue; it is the 
 part of a wise man, to believe them no farther, than right reason 
 makes that which they say, appear credible. If this superstitious 
 fear of spirits were taken away, and with it, prognostics from 
 dreams, false prophecies, and many other things depending 
 thereon, by which crafty ambitious persons abuse the simple 
 people, men would be much more fitted than they are for civil 
 obedience. 
 
 And this ought to be the work of the schools: but they rather 
 
64 HOBBES 
 
 nourish such doctrine. For, not knowing what imagination or 
 the senses are, what they receive they teach: some saying, that 
 imaginations rise of themselves, and have no cause ; others that 
 they rise most commonly from the will, and that good thoughts 
 are blown (inspired) into a man by God, and evil thoughts by 
 the Devil; or that good thoughts are poured (infused) into a man 
 by God, and evil ones by the Devil. Some say the senses receive 
 the species of things, and deliver them to the common sense ; and 
 the common sense delivers them over to the fancy, and the fancy 
 to the memory, and the memory to the judgment, like handing 
 of things from one to another, with many words making nothing 
 understood. 
 
 The imagination that is raised in man, or any other creature 
 indued with the faculty of imagining, by words, or other voluntary 
 signs, is that we generally call understanding, and is common to 
 man and beast. For a dog by custom will understand the call, 
 or the rating of his master; and so will many other beasts. That 
 understanding which is peculiar to man, is the understanding 
 not only his will, but his conceptions and thoughts, by the sequel 
 and contexture of the names of things into affirmations, negations, 
 and other forms of speech ; and of this kind of understanding I 
 shall speak hereafter. 
 
 CHAPTER III. OF THE CONSEQUENCE OR TRAIN 
 OF IMAGINATIONS 
 
 By Consequence, or TRAIN of thoughts, I understand that succes- 
 sion of one thought to another which is called, to distinguish it 
 from discourse in words, mental discourse. 
 
 When a man thinketh on anything whatsoever, his next thought 
 after is not altogether so casual as it seems to be. Not every 
 thought to every thought succeeds indifferently. But as we have 
 no imagination, whereof we have not formerly had sense, in 
 whole, or in parts, so we have no transition from one imagination 
 to another, whereof we never had the like before in our senses. 
 The reason whereof is this. All fancies are motions within us, 
 relics of those made in the sense; and those motions that imme- 
 
LEVIATHAN 65 
 
 diately succeeded one another in the sense continue also together 
 after sense ; insomuch as the former coming again to take place 
 and be predominant, the latter followeth, by coherence of the 
 matter moved, in such manner as water upon a plane table is 
 drawn which way any one part of it is guided by the ringer. But 
 because in sense, to one and the same thing perceived, sometimes 
 one thing, sometimes another succeedeth, it comes to pass in 
 time, that in the imagining of anything, there is no certainty what 
 we shall imagine next; only this is certain, it shall be something 
 that succeeded the same before, at one time or another. 
 
 This train of thoughts, or mental discourse, is of two sorts. 
 The first is unguided, without design, and inconstant; wherein 
 there is no passionate thought to govern and direct those that 
 follow, to itself, as the end and scope of some desire, or other 
 passion : in which case the thoughts are said to wander, and seem 
 impertinent one to another, as in a dream. Such are commonly 
 the thoughts of men, that are not only without company, but 
 also without care of anything; though even then their thoughts 
 are as busy as at other times, but without harmony; as the sound 
 which a lute out of tune would yield to any man, or in tune to 
 one that could not play. And yet in this wild ranging of the mind, 
 a man may oft-times perceive the way of it, and the dependence 
 of one thought upon another. For in a discourse of our present 
 civil war, what could seem more impertinent than to ask, as 
 one did, what was the value of a Roman penny? Yet the coher- 
 ence to me was manifest enough. For the thought of the war, 
 introduced the thought of the delivering up the king to his ene- 
 mies; the thought of that, brought in the thought of the deliver- 
 ing up of Christ; and that again the thought of the thirty pence, 
 which was the price of that treason; and thence easily followed 
 that malicious question, and all this in a moment of time; for 
 thought is quick. 
 
 The second is more constant, as being regulated by some desire, 
 and design. For the impression made by such things as we desire, 
 or fear, is strong and permanent, or, if it cease for a time, of 
 quick return: so strong it is sometimes, as to hinder and break 
 our sleep. From desire, ariseth the thought of some means we 
 
66 HOBBES 
 
 have seen produce the like of that which we aim at; and from 
 the thought of that, the thought of means to that means ; and so 
 continually till we come to some beginning within our own power. 
 And because the end, by the greatness of the impression, comes 
 often to mind, in case our thoughts begin to wander, they are 
 quickly again reduced into the way : which observed by one of the 
 seven wise men, made him give men this precept, which is now 
 worn out, Respice finem; that is to say, in all your actions, look 
 often upon what you would have as the thing that directs all 
 your thoughts in the way to attain it. 
 
 The train of regulated thoughts is of two kinds: one, when of 
 an effect imagined we seek the causes, or means that produce it; 
 and this is common to man and beast. The other is, when ima- 
 gining anything whatsoever, we seek all the possible effects that 
 can by it beproduced; that is to say, we imagine what we can 
 do withTtTwheh we have it. Of which I have not at any time seen 
 any sign, but in man only; for this is a curiosity hardly incident 
 to the nature of any living creature that has no other passion 
 but sensual, such as are hunger, thirst, lust, and anger. In sum, 
 the discourse of the mind, when it is governed by design, is 
 nothing but seeking, or the faculty of invention, which the Latins 
 called sagacitas, and solertia; a hunting out of the causes of 
 some effect, present or past; or of the effects of some present 
 or past cause. Sometimes a man seeks what he hath lost; and 
 from that place and time wherein he misses it, his mind runs 
 back, from place to place, and time to time, to find where, and 
 when he had it; that is to say, to find some certain and limited 
 time and place, in which to begin a method of seeking. Again, 
 from thence his thoughts run over the same places and times, to 
 find what action or other occasion might make him lose it. This 
 we call remembrance, or calling to mind : the Latins call it remi- 
 niscentidj as it were a re-conning of our former actions. 
 
 Sometimes a man knows a place determinate, within the com- 
 pass whereof he is to seek; and then his thoughts run over all the 
 parts thereof, in the same manner as one would sweep a room 
 to find a jewel; or as a spaniel ranges the field till he find a scent; 
 or as a man should run over the alphabet, to start a rhyme. 
 
LEVIATHAN 67 
 
 Sometimes a man desires to know the event of an action; and 
 then he thinketh of some like action past, and the events thereof 
 one after another, supposing like events will follow like actions. 
 "As he that foresees what will become of a criminal, reckons what 
 he has seen follow on the like crime before, having this order: 
 thoughts, the crime, the officer, the prison, the judge, and the 
 gallows. Which kind of thoughts, is called foresight, and prudence, 
 or providence ; and sometimes wisdom ; though such conjecture, 
 through the difficulty of observing all circumstances, be very 
 fallacious. But this is certain: by how much one man has more 
 experience of things past, than another, by so much also he is 
 more prudent, and his expectations the seldomer fail him. The 
 present only has a being in nature; things past have a being in 
 the memory only, but things to come have no being at all; the 
 future being but a fiction of the mind, applying the sequels of 
 actions past, to the actions that are present; which with most 
 certainty is done by him that has most experience, but not 
 with certainty enough. And though it be called prudence, when 
 the event answereth our expectation, yet in its own nature, it is 
 but presumption. For the foresight of things to come, which is 
 providence, belongs only to him by whose will they are to come. 
 From him only, and supernaturally, proceeds prophecy. -The 
 best prophet naturally is the best guesser; and the best guesser, 
 he that is most versed and studied in the matters he guesses at : 
 for he hath most signs to guess by. 
 
 A sign is the evident antecedent of the consequent ; and con- 
 trarily, the consequent of the antecedent when the like conse- 
 quences have been observed before: and the oftener they have 
 been observed, the less uncertain is the sign. And therefore he 
 that has most experience in any kind of business, has most signs, 
 whereby to guess at the future time, and consequently is the 
 most prudent: and so much more prudent than he that is new 
 in that kind of business as not to be equalled by any advantage 
 of natural and extemporary wit: though perhaps many young 
 men think the contrary. 
 
 Nevertheless it is not prudence that distinguisheth man from 
 beast. There be beasts, that at a year old observe more, and 
 
r, an 
 
 e,^fcfth 
 
 tdHfrot 
 
 68 HOBBES 
 
 pursue that which is for their good, more prudently than a child 
 can do at ten. 
 
 As prudence is a presumption of the future, contracted from 
 the experience of time past, so there is a presumption of things 
 past taken from other things, not future, but past also. For he 
 that hath seen by what courses and degrees a flourishing state 
 hath first come into civil war, and then to ruin, upon the sight 
 of the ruins of any other state, will guess, the like war, and the 
 like courses have been there also. But his conjecture,fcfthe 
 same uncertainty almost with the conjecture of the 
 being grounded only upon experience. 
 
 There is no other act of man's mind, that^Lcan remember, 
 naturally planted in him, so as to need no Sner thing, to the 
 exercise of it, but to be born a man and liv|^ith the use of his 
 five senses. Those other faculties, of which I shall speak by and 
 by, and which seem proper to man only, are acquired and in- 
 creased by study and industry, and of most men learned by 
 instruction, and discipline, and proceed all from the invention 
 of words, and speech. For besides sense, and thoughts, and the 
 train of thoughts, the mind of man has no other motion; though 
 by the help of speech and method, the same faculties may be 
 improved to such a height, as to distinguish men from all other 
 living creatures. 
 
 Whatsoever we imagine is finite. Therefore there is no idea, 
 or conception of any thing we call infinite. No man can have in 
 his mind an image of infinite magnitude, nor conceive infinite* 
 swiftness, infinite time, or infinite force, or infinite power. When 
 we say any thing is infinite, we signify only that we are not able 
 to conceive the ends, and bounds of the things named, having 
 no conception of the thing, but of our own inability. And there- 
 fore the name of God is used, not to make us conceive him, for 
 he is incomprehensible, and his greatness, and power are uncon- 
 ceivable; but that we may honour him. Also because, whatso- 
 ever, as I said before, we conceive has been perceived first by 
 sense, -either all at once, or by parts ; a man can have no thought, 
 representing any thing, not subject to sense. No man therefore 
 can conceive any thing, but he must conceive it in some place, 
 
LEVIATHAN 69 
 
 and indued with some determinate ^ ide, and which may 
 be divided into parts ; nor that any thing is all in this place and 
 all in another place at the same time; nor that two or more 
 things can be in one and the same place at once: for none of 
 these things ejs^PRave nor can be incident to sense; but are 
 absurd speech? taken upon credit, without any signification 
 at Sn, from deceived philosophers, and deceived, or deceiving 
 schoolmen. 
 
 CHAPTER V. OF REASON AND SCIENCE 
 
 When a man reasoneth, he does nothing else but conceive a sum 
 total, from addition of parcels; or conceive a remainder, from 
 subtraction of one sum from another, which, if it be done by 
 words, is conceiving of the consequence of the names of all the 
 parts, to the name of the whole; or from the names of the whole 
 and one part, to the name of the other part. And though in some 
 things, as in numbers, besides adding and subtracting, men 
 name other operations, as multiplying and dividing, yet they are 
 the same; for multiplication, is but adding together of things 
 equal; and division, but subtracting of one thing as often as we 
 can. These operations are not incident to numbers only, but to 
 all manner of things that can be added together, and taken one 
 out of another. For as arithmeticians teach to add and subtract 
 in numbers, so the geometricians teach the same in lines, figures, 
 solid and superficial, angles, proportions, times, degrees of swift- 
 ness, force, power, and the like; the logicians teach the same in 
 consequences of words, adding together two names to make an 
 affirmation, and two affirmations to make a syllogism, and many 
 syllogisms to make a demonstration, and from the sum, or con- 
 clusion of a syllogism, they subtract one proposition to find the 
 other. Writers of politics add together pactions to find men's 
 duties; and lawyers, laws and facts, to find what is right and wrong 
 in the actions of private men. In sum, in what matter soever 
 there is place for addition and subtraction, there also is place for 
 reason; and where these have no place, there reason has nothing 
 at all to do. 
 
7 o HOBBES 
 
 Out of all which we may define, that is to say determine, what 
 that is, which is meant by this word reason, when we reckon it 
 amongst the faculties of the mind. For REASON 1 in this sense is 
 nothing but reckoning, that is adding and subtracting, of the 
 consequences of general names agreed upon for the marking 
 and signifying of our thoughts; I say marking them when we 
 reckon by ourselves, and signifying when we demonstrate or 
 approve our reckonings to other men. 
 
 And, as in arithmetic, unpractised men must, and professors 
 themselves may often, err, and cast up false ; so also in any other 
 subject of reasoning, the ablest, most attentive, and most prac- 
 tised men may deceive themselves, and infer false conclusions; 
 not but that reason itself is always right reason, as well as arith- 
 metic is a certain and infallible art; but no one man's reason, 
 nor the reason of any one number of men, makes the certainty; 
 no more than an account is therefore well cast up, because a great 
 many men have unanimously approved it. And therefore, as 
 when there is a controversy in an account, the parties must by 
 their own accord set up, for right reason, the reason of some 
 arbitrator or judge to whose sentence they will both stand, or 
 their controversy must either come to blows, or be undecided, 
 for want of a right reason constituted by nature ; so is it also in all 
 
 1 Compare Hobbes, Elements of Philosophy (Molesworth ed., vol. i, ch. i, p. 3): 
 
 " PHILOSOPHY is such knowledge of effects or appearances as we acquire by true 
 ratiocination from the knowledge we have first of their causes or generation: And 
 again, of such causes or generations as may be from knowing first their effects. 
 
 For the better understanding of which definition, we must consider, first, that 
 although Sense and Memory of things, which are common to man and all living 
 creatures, be knowledge, yet because they are given us immediately by nature, 
 and not gotten by ratiocination, they are not philosophy. 
 
 Secondly, seeing Experience is nothing but memory; and Prudence, or pros- 
 pect into the future time, nothing but expectation of such things as we have 
 already had experience of, Prudence also is not to be esteemed philosophy. 
 
 By RATIOCINATION, I mean computation. Now to compute is either to collect 
 the sum of many things that are added together, or to know what remains when 
 one thing is taken out of another. Ratiocination, therefore, is the same with 
 addition and subtraction; and if any man add multiplication and division, I will 
 not be against it, seeing multiplication is nothing but addition of equals one to 
 another, and division nothing but a subtraction of equals one from another, as 
 often as is possible. So that all ratiocination is comprehended in these two opera- 
 tions of the mind, addition and subtraction." 
 
LEVIATHAN 71 
 
 debates of what kind soever. And when men that think them- 
 selves wiser than all others, clamour and demand right reason 
 for judge, yet seek no more, but that things should be determined, 
 by no other men's reason but their own, it is as intolerable in the 
 society of men, as it is in play after trump is turned, to use for 
 trump on every occasion, that suite whereof they have most in 
 their hand. For they do nothing else, that will have every of their 
 passions, as it comes to bear sway in them, to be taken for right 
 reason, and that in their own controversies : bewraying their want 
 of right reason by the claim they lay to it. 
 
 The use and end of reason, is not the finding of the sum and 
 truth of one, or a few consequences, remote from the first defini- 
 tions and settled significations of names, but to begin at these, 
 and proceed from one consequence to another. For there can be 
 no certainty of the last conclusion, without a certainty of all those 
 affirmations and negations, on which it was grounded and in- 
 ferred. As when a master of a family, in taking an account, 
 casteth up the sums of all the bills of expense into one sum, and 
 not regarding how each bill is summed up, by those that give 
 them in account; nor what it is he pays for; he advantages him- 
 self no more, than if he allowed the account in gross, trusting to 
 every of the accountants' skill and honesty : so also in reasoning 
 of all other things, he that takes up conclusions on the trust of 
 authors, and doth not fetch them from the first items in every 
 reckoning, which are the significations of names settled by defi- 
 nitions, loses his labour, and does not know anything, but only 
 believeth. 
 
 When a man reckons without the use of words, which may be 
 done in particular things, as when upon the sight of any one 
 thing, we conjecture what was likely to have preceded, or is likely 
 to follow upon it ; if that which he thought likely to follow, fol- 
 lows not, or that which he thought likely to have preceded it, 
 hath not preceded it, this is called error to which even the most 
 prudent men are subject. But when we reason in words of general 
 signification, and fall upon a general inference which is false, 
 though it be commonly called error, it is indeed an absurdity, or 
 senseless speech. For error is but deception, in presuming that 
 
7 2 . HOBBES 
 
 somewhat is past, or to come; of which, though it were not past, 
 or not to come, yet there was no impossibility discoverable. But 
 when we make a general assertion, unless it be ,a true one, the 
 possibility of it is inconceivable. And words whereby we conceive 
 nothing but the sound, are those we call absurd, insignificant, 
 and nonsense. And therefore if a man should talk to me of a 
 round quadrangle; or, accidents oj bread in cheese; or, immaterial 
 substances; or of a free subject; a free will; or any free, but free 
 from being hindered by opposition, I should not say he were in 
 an error, but that his words were without meaning, that is to say, 
 absurd. 
 
 I have said before, in the second chapter, that a man did excel 
 all other animals in this faculty, that when he conceived any- 
 thing whatsoever, he was apt to inquire the consequences of it, 
 and what effects he could do with it. And now I add this other 
 degree of the same excellence, that he can by words reduce the 
 consequences he finds to general rules, called theorems, or aphor- 
 isms; that is, he can reason, or reckon, not only in number, but in 
 all other things, whereof one may be added unto, or subtracted 
 from another. 
 
 But this privilege is allayed by another; and that is, by the 
 privilege of absurdity; to which no living creature is subject, 
 but man only. And of men, those are of all most subject to it, 
 that profess philosophy. For it is most true that Cicero saith of 
 them somewhere; that there can be nothing so absurd, but may 
 be found in the books of philosophers. And the reason is mani- 
 fest. For there is not one of them that begins his ratiocination 
 from the definitions, or explications of the names they are to use ; 
 which is a method that hath been used only in geometry; whose 
 conclusions have thereby been made indisputable. 
 
 i. The first cause of absurd conclusions I ascribe to the want 
 of method; in that they begin not their ratiocination from defi- 
 nitions; that is, from settled significations of their words; as 
 if they could cast account, without knowing the value of the 
 numeral words, one, two, and three. 
 
 And whereas all bodies enter into account upon divers con- 
 siderations, which I have mentioned in the precedent chapter; 
 
LEVIATHAN 73 
 
 these considerations being diversely named, divers absurdities 
 proceed from the confusion, and unfit connexion of their names 
 into assertions. And therefore, 
 
 n. The second cause of absurd assertions, I ascribe to the giv- 
 ing of names of bodies to accidents; or of accidents to bodies; as 
 they do that say, faith is infused, or inspired; when nothing can 
 be poured, or breathed into anything, but body ; and that extension 
 is body; that phantasms are spirits, &c. 
 
 in. The third I ascribe to the giving of the names of the acci- 
 dents of bodies without us, to the accidents of our own bodies; as 
 they do that say, the colour is in the body; the sound is in the air, 
 &c. 
 
 iv. The fourth, to the giving of the names of bodies to names, 
 or -speeches; as they do that say, that there be things universal; 
 that a living creature is genus, or a general thing, &c. 
 
 v. The fifth, to the giving of the names of accidents to names 
 and speeches; as they do that say, the nature of a thing is its defi- 
 nition; a man's command is his will; and the like. 
 
 vi. The sixth, to the use of metaphors, tropes, and other 
 rhetorical figures, instead of words proper. For though it be 
 lawful to say, for example, in common speech, the way goeth, or 
 leadeth hither or thither; the proverb says this or that, whereas 
 ways cannot go, nor proverbs speak; yet in reckoning, and seek- 
 ing of truth, such speeches are not to be admitted. 
 
 vii. The seventh, to names that signify nothing; but are taken 
 up and learned by rote from the schools, as hypostatical, tran- 
 substantiate, consubstantiate, eternal-now, and the like canting of 
 schoolmen. 
 
 To him that can avoid these things it is not easy to fall into 
 any absurdity, unless it be by the length of an account ; wherein 
 he may perhaps forget what went before. For all men by nature 
 reason alike, and well, when they have good principles. For who 
 is so stupid, as both to mistake in geometry, and also to persist 
 in it, when another detects his error to him ? 
 
 By this it appears that reason is not, as sense and memory, 
 born with us; nor gotten by experience only, as prudence is; 
 but attained by industry; first in apt imposing of names; and 
 
74 HOBBES 
 
 secondly by getting a good and orderly method in proceeding 
 from the elements, which are names, to assertions made by con- 
 nexion of one of them to another; and so to syllogisms, which 
 are the connexions of one assertion to another, till we come to a 
 knowledge of all the consequences of names appertaining to the 
 subject in hand; and that is it, men call SCIENCE. 1 And whereas 
 sense and memory are but knowledge of fact, which is a thing 
 past and irrevocable. Science is the knowledge of consequences, 
 and dependence of one fact upon another : by which, out of that 
 we can presently do, we know how to do something else when 
 we will, or the like another time ; because when we see how any- 
 thing comes about, upon what causes, and by what manner; 
 when the like causes come into our power, we see how to make 
 it produce the like effects. 
 
 Children therefore are not endued with reason at all, till they 
 have attained the use of speech; but are called reasonable crea- 
 tures, for the possibility apparent of having the use of reason in 
 time to come. And the most part of men, though they have the 
 use of reasoning a little way, as in numbering to some degree; 
 yet it serves them to little use in common life ; in which they gov- 
 ern themselves, some better, some worse, according to their dif- 
 ferences of experience, quickness of memory, and inclinations to 
 several ends; but specially according to good or evil fortune, and 
 the errors of one another. For as for science,, or certain rules of 
 their actions, they are so far from it, that they know not what it is. 
 
 1 Cf. Hobbes, Elements of Philosophy (Molesworth, vol. i, ch. vi, p. 66): 
 "METHOD, therefore, in the study of philosophy, is the shortest way oj finding out 
 effects by their known causes, or oj causes by their known effects. But we are then 
 said to know any effect, when we know that there be causes oj the same, and in 
 what subject those causes are, and in what subject they produce that effect, and in 
 what manner they work the same. And this is the science of causes, or as they call 
 it, of the SiJrt. All other science, which is called the '6ri, is either perception by 
 sense, or the imagination, or memory remaining after such perception. 
 
 "The first beginnings, therefore, of knowledge, are the phantasms of sense 
 and imagination; and that there be such phantasms we know well enough by 
 nature; but to know why they be, or from what causes they proceed, is the work 
 of ratiocination; which consists in composition, and division or resolution. There 
 is therefore no method by which we find out the causes of things, but is either 
 compositive or resolutive, or partly compositive and partly resolutive. And the 
 resolutive is commonly called analytical method, as the compositive is called 
 synthetical." 
 
LEVIATHAN 75 
 
 Geometry they have thought conjuring: but for other sciences, 
 they who have not been taught the beginnings and some progress 
 in them, that they may see how they be acquired and generated, 
 are in this point like children, that having no thought of gener- 
 ation, are made believe by the women that their brothers and 
 sisters are not born, but found in the garden. 
 
 But yet they that have no science, are in better and nobler 
 condition, with their natural prudence, than men, that by mis- 
 reasoning, or by trusting them that reason wrong, fall upon false 
 and absurd general rules. For ignorance of causes, and of rules, 
 does not set men so far out of their way, as relying on false rules, 
 and taking for causes of what they aspire to, those that are not so, 
 but rather causes of the contrary. 
 
 To conclude, the light of human minds is perspicuous words, 
 but by exact definitions first snuffed, and purged from ambiguity ; 
 reason is the pace; increase of science, the way; and the benefit of 
 mankind, the end. And, on the contrary, metaphors, and sense- 
 less and ambiguous words, are like ignes jatui; and reasoning 
 upon them is wandering amongst innumerable absurdities; and 
 their end, contention and sedition, or contempt. 
 
 As much experience, is prudence ; so, is much science sapience. 
 For though we usually have one name of wisdom for them both, 
 yet the Latins did always distinguish between prudentia and 
 sapientia; ascribing the former to experience, the latter to science. 
 But to make their difference appear more clearly, let us suppose 
 one man endued with an excellent natural use and dexterity in 
 handling his arms; and another to have added to that dexterity, 
 an acquired science, of where he can offend or be offended by 
 his adversary, in every possible posture or guard; the ability of 
 the former, would be to the ability of the latter, as prudence to 
 sapience; both useful, but the latter infallible. But they that, 
 trusting only to the authority of books, follow the blind blindly, 
 are like him that, trusting to the false rules of a master of fence, 
 ventures presumptuously upon an adversary, that either kills or 
 disgraces him. 
 
 The signs of science are some, certain and infallible; some, 
 uncertain. Certain, when he that pretendeth the science of any- 
 
;6 HOBBES 
 
 thing can teach the same; that is to say, demonstrate the truth 
 thereof perspicuously to another; uncertain, when only some 
 particular events answer to his pretence, and upon many occa- 
 sions prove so as he says they must. Signs of prudence are all 
 uncertain; because to observe by experience, and remember all 
 circumstances that may alter the success is impossible. But in 
 any business whereof a man has not infallible science to proceed 
 by, to forsake his own natural judgment, and be guided by 
 general sentences read in authors, and subject to many excep- 
 tions, is a sign of folly, and generally scorned by the name of 
 pedantry. And even of those men themselves, that in councils of 
 the' commonwealth love to show their reading of politics and 
 history, very few do it in their domestic affairs, where their 
 particular interest is concerned; having prudence enough for 
 their private affairs : but in public they study more the reputation 
 of their own wit, than the success of another's business. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. OF THE INTERIOR BEGINNINGS 
 
 OF VOLUNTARY MOTIONS; COMMONLY 
 
 CALLED THE PASSIONS 
 
 There be in animals, two sorts of motions peculiar to them: 
 one called vital; begun in generation, and continued without 
 interruption through their whole life; such as are the course 
 of the blood, the pulse, the breathing, the concoction, nutrition t 
 excretion, &c., to which motions there needs no help of imagi- 
 nation: the other is animal motion, otherwise called voluntary 
 motion ; as to go, to speak, to move any of our limbs in such man- 
 ner as is first fancied in our minds. That sense is motion in the 
 organs and interior parts of man's body, caused by the action 
 of the things we see, hear, &c. ; and that fancy is but the relics 
 of the same motion, remaining after sense, has been already 
 said in the first and second chapters. And because going, speak- 
 ing, and the like voluntary motions, depend always upon a pre- 
 cedent thought of whither, which way, and what; it is evident 
 that the imagination is the first internal beginning of all volun- 
 tary motion. And although unstudied men do not conceive any 
 
LEVIATHAN 77 
 
 motion at all to be there, where the thing moved is invisible; or 
 the space it is moved in is, for the shortness of it, insensible; 
 yet that doth not hinder but that such motions are. For let a 
 space be never so little, that which is moved over a greater space, 
 whereof that little one is part, must first be moved over that.- 
 These small beginnings of motion, within the body of man, 
 before they appear in walking, speaking, striking, and other 
 visible actions, are commonly called ENDEAVOUR. 
 
 This endeavour, when it is toward something which causes it, 
 is called APPETITE, or DESIRE; the latter being the general name; 
 and the other oftentimes restrained to signify the desire of food, 
 namely hunger and thirst. And when the endeavour is fromward 
 something, it is generally called AVERSION. These words, appe- 
 tite and aversion, we have from the Latins, and they both of 
 them signify the motions, one of approaching, the other of retir- 
 ing. So also do the Greek words for the same, which are OP/AT? 
 and afopM. For nature itself does often press upon men those 
 truths, which afterwards, when they look for somewhat beyond 
 nature, they stumble at. For the Schools find in mere appetite 
 to go, or move, no actual motion at all : but because some motion 
 they must acknowledge, they call it metaphorical motion; which 
 is but an absurd speech: for though words may be called meta- 
 phorical, bodies and motions can not. 
 
 That which men desire, they are also said to LOVE, and to HATE 
 those things for which they have aversion. So that desire and 
 love are the same thing; save that by desire, we always signify 
 the absence of the object; by love, most commonly the presence 
 of the same. So also by aversion, we signify the absence; and by 
 hate, the presence of the object. 
 
 Of appetites and aversions, some are born with men ; as ap- 
 petite of food, appetite of excretion, and exoneration, which may 
 also and more properly be called aversions, from somewhat they 
 feel in their bodies; and some other appetites, not many. The 
 rest, which are appetites of particular things, proceed from ex- 
 perience, and trial of their effects upon themselves or other men. 
 For of things we know not at all, or believe not to be, we can 
 have no further desire than to taste and try. But aversion we have 
 
78 HOBBES 
 
 for things, not only which we know have hurt us, but also that 
 we do not know whether they will hurt us, or not. 
 
 Those things which we neither desire, nor hate, we are said 
 to contemn; CONTEMPT being nothing else but an immobility, or 
 contumacy of the heart, in resisting the action of certain things; 
 and proceeding from that the heart is already moved otherwise, 
 by other more potent objects ; or from want of experience of them. 
 
 And because the constitution of a man's body is in continual 
 mutation, it is impossible that all the same things should always 
 cause in him the same appetites and aversions: much less can > 
 all men consent, in the desire of almost any one and the same 
 object. 
 
 But whatsoever is the object of any man's appetite or desire, 
 that is it which he for his part calleth good: and the object of 
 his hate and aversion, evil; and of his contempt, vile and incon- 
 siderable. For these words of good, evil, and contemptible, are 
 ever used with relation to the person that useth them: there 
 being nothing simply and absolutely so; nor any common rule 
 of good and evil, to be taken from the nature of the objects 
 themselves; but from the person of the man, where there is no 
 commonwealth; or, in a commonwealth, from the person that 
 representeth it; or from an arbitrator or judge, whom men dis- 
 agreeing shall by consent set up, and make his sentence the 
 rule thereof. 
 
 The Latin tongue has two words, whose significations approach 
 to those of good and evil; but are not precisely the same; and 
 those are pulchrum and turpe. Whereof the former signifies that, 
 which by some apparent signs promiseth good; and the latter, 
 that which promiseth evil. But in our tongue we have not so 
 general names to express them by. But for pulchrum we say in 
 some things, fair; in others, beautiful, or handsome, or gallant, 
 or honourable, or comely, or amiable; and for turpe, foul, de- 
 formed, ugly, base, nauseous, and the like, as the subject shall 
 require; all which words, in their proper places, signify nothing 
 else but the mien or countenance, that promiseth good and evil. 
 So that of good there be three kinds ; good in the promise, that is 
 pulchrum; good in effect, as the end desired, which is called 
 
LEVIATHAN 79 
 
 jucundum, delightful; and good as the means, which is called 
 utile, profitable; and as many of evil : for evil in promise, is that 
 they call turpe; evil in effect, and end, is molestum, unpleasant, 
 troublesome; and evil in the means, inutile, unprofitable, hurtful. 
 
 As, in sense, that which is really within us, is, as I have said 
 before, only motion, caused by the action of external objects, but 
 in apparence; to the sight, light and colour; to the ear, sound; 
 to the nostril, odour, &c. : so, when the action of the same object 
 is continued from the eyes, ears, and other organs to the heart, 
 the real effect there is nothing but motion, or endeavour; which 
 consisteth in appetite, or aversion, to or from the object moving. 
 But the apparence, or sense of that motion, is that we either call 
 delight or trouble of mind. 
 
 This motion, which is called appetite, and for the apparence 
 of it delight and pleasure, seemeth to be a corroboration of vital 
 motion, and a help thereunto; and therefore such things as 
 caused delight were not improperly called jucunda, a juvando, 
 from helping or fortifying; and the contrary molesta, offensive, 
 from hindering, and troubling the motion vital. 
 
 Pleasure, therefore) or delight is the apparence, or sense of 
 good; and molestation or displeasure, the apparence or sense of 
 evil. And consequently all appetite, desire, and love, is accom- 
 panied with some delight more or less ; and all hatred and aver- 
 sion, with more or less displeasure and offence. 
 
 Of pleasures or delights, some arise from the sense of an object 
 present; and those may be called pleasure of sense; the word 
 sensual, as it is used by those only that condemn them, having 
 no place till there be laws. Of this kind are all onerations and 
 exonerations of the body; as also all that is pleasant, in the 
 sight, hearing, smell, taste, or touch. Others arise from the ex- 
 pectation, that proceeds from foresight of the end, or consequence 
 of things; whether those things in the sense please or displease. 
 And these are pleasures of the mind of him that draweth those 
 consequences, and are generally called JOY. In the like manner, 
 displeasures are some in the sense, and called PAIN; others in 
 the expectation of consequences, and are called GRIEF. 
 
 These simple passions called appetite, desire, love, aversion, 
 
80 HOBBES 
 
 hate, joy, and grief, have their names for divers considerations 
 diversified. As first, when they one succeed another, they are 
 diversely called from the opinion men have of the likelihood 
 of attaining what they desire. Secondly, from the object loved 
 or hated. Thirdly, from the consideration of many of them 
 together. Fourthly, from the alteration or succession itself. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. OF THE NATURAL CONDITION 
 
 OF MANKIND AS CONCERNING THEIR 
 
 FELICITY AND MISERY 
 
 Nature hath made men so equal, in the faculties 6f the body, 
 and mind; as that though there be found one man sometimes 
 manifestly stronger in body, or of quicker mind than another, 
 yet when all is reckoned together, the difference between man 
 and man, is not so considerable, as that one man can thereupon 
 claim to himself any benefit to which another may not pretend, 
 as well as he. For as to the strength of body, the weakest has 
 strength enough to kill the strongest, either by secret machina- 
 tion, or by confederacy with others, that are in the same danger 
 with himself. 
 
 And as to the faculties of the mind, setting aside the arts 
 grounded upon words, and especially that skill of proceeding 
 upon general and infallible rules, called science ; which very few 
 have, and but in few things; as being not a native faculty born 
 with us; nor attained, as prudence, while we look after somewhat 
 else, I find yet a greater equality amongst men than that of 
 strength. For prudence, is but experience; which equal time, 
 equally bestows on all men, in those things they equally apply 
 themselves unto. That which may perhaps make such equality 
 incredible, is but a vain conceit of one's own wisdom, which 
 almost all men think they have in a greater degree tkan the vulgar ; 
 that is, than all men but themselves, and a few others, whom 
 by fame, or for concurring with themselves, they approve. For 
 such is the nature of men, that howsoever they may acknowledge 
 many others to be more witty, or more eloquent, or more .learned ; 
 
LEVIATHAN 81 
 
 yet they will hardly believe there be many so wise as themselves; 
 for they see their own wit at hand, and other men's at a distance. 
 But this proveth rather that men are in that point equal, than 
 unequal. For there is not ordinarily a greater sign of the equal 
 distribution of anything, than that every man is contented with 
 his share. 
 
 From this equality of ability, ariseth equality of hope in the 
 attaining of our ends. And therefore if any two men desire the 
 same thing, which nevertheless they cannot both enjoy, they 
 become enemies; and in the way to their end, which is principally 
 their own conservation, and sometimes their delectation only, 
 endeavour to destroy or subdue one another. And from hence 
 it comes to pass, that where an invader hath no more to fear, 
 than another man's single power; if one plant, sow, build, or 
 possess a convenient seat, others may probably be expected to 
 come prepared with forces united, to dispossess, and deprive him, 
 not only of the fruit of his labour, but also of his life or liberty. 
 And the invader again is in the like danger of another. 
 
 And from this diffidence of one another, there is no way for 
 any man to secure himself, so reasonable as anticipation ; that is, 
 by force, or wiles, to master the persons of all men he can, so 
 long, till he see no other power great enough to endanger him: 
 and this is no more than his own conservation requireth, and 
 is generally allowed. Also because there be some, that taking 
 pleasure in contemplating their own power in the acts of conquest, 
 which they pursue farther than their security requires ; if others, 
 that otherwise would be glad to be at ease within modest bounds, 
 should not by invasion increase their power, they would not be 
 able, long time, by standing only on their defence, to subsist. 
 And by consequence, such augmentation of dominion over men 
 being necessary to a man's conservation, it ought to be allowed 
 him. 
 
 Again, men' have no pleasure, but on the contrary a great deal 
 of grief, in keeping company, where there is no power able to 
 overawe them all. For every man looketh that his companion 
 should value him, at the same rate he sets upon himself: and 
 upon all signs of contempt, or undervaluing, naturally endeavours 
 
82 HOBBES 
 
 as far as he dares (which amongst them that have no common 
 power to keep them in quiet, is far enough to make them destroy 
 each other), to extort a greater value from his contemners, by 
 damage; and from others, by the example. 
 
 So that in the nature of man, we find three principal causes of 
 quarrel. First, competition ; secondly, diffidence; thirdly, glory. 
 
 The first, maketh men invade for gain; the second, for safety; 
 and the third, for reputation. The first use violence, to make 
 themselves masters of other men's persons, wives, children, and 
 cattle; the second, to defend them; the third, for trifles, as a 
 word, a smile, a different opinion, and any other sign of under- 
 value, either direct in their persons, or by reflection in their 
 kindred, their friends, their nation, their profession, or their 
 name. 
 
 Hereby it is manifest, that during the time men live without a 
 common power to keep them all in awe, they are in that condition 
 which is called war; and such a war, as is of every man, against 
 every man. For WAR, consisteth not in battle only, or the act of 
 fighting; but in a tract of time, wherein the will to contend by 
 battle is sufficiently known : and therefore the notion of time, is 
 to be considered in the nature of war, as it is in the nature of 
 weather. For as the nature of foul weather, lieth not in a shower 
 or two of rain, but in an inclination thereto of many days together; 
 so the nature of war, consisteth not in actual fighting, but in the 
 known disposition thereto, during all the time there is no assur- 
 ance to the contrary. All other time is PEACE. 
 
 Whatsoever therefore is consequent to a time of war, where 
 every man is enemy to every man, the same is consequent to the 
 time wherein men live without other security, than what their 
 own strength, and their own invention shall furnish them w r ithal. 
 In such condition, there is no place for industry, because the 
 fruit thereof is uncertain, and consequently no culture of the 
 earth; no navigation, nor use of the commodities that may be 
 imported by sea; no commodious building; no instruments of 
 moving, and removing, such things as require much force; no 
 knowledge of the face of the earth; no account of time; no arts; 
 no letters; no society; and, which is worst of all, continual fear, 
 
LEVIATHAN 83 
 
 and danger of violent death; and the life of man, solitary, poor, 
 nasty, brutish, and short. 
 
 It may seem strange to some man, that has not well weighed 
 these things, that Nature should thus dissociate, and render men 
 apt to invade and destroy one another : and he may therefore, not 
 trusting to this inference made from the passions, desire perhaps 
 to have the same confirmed by experience. Let him therefore 
 consider with himself, when taking a journey, he arms himself, 
 and seeks to go well accompanied; when going to sleep he locks 
 his doors; when even in his house, he locks his chests; and this 
 when he knows there be laws, and public officers, armed, to 
 revenge all injuries shall be done him; what opinion he has of 
 his fellow- subjects, when he rides armed; of his fellow-citizens, 
 when he locks his doors; and of his children and servants, when 
 he locks his chests. Does he not there as much accuse mankind 
 by his actions, as I do by my words? But neither of us accuse 
 man's nature in it. The desires, and other passions of man, are 
 in themselves no sin. No more are the actions, that proceed from 
 those passions, till they know a law that forbids them: which till 
 laws be made they cannot know, nor can any law be made, till 
 they have agreed upon the person that shall make it. 
 
 It may peradventure be thought, there was never such a time 
 nor condition of war as this ; and I believe it was never generally 
 so, over all the world : but there are many places where they live 
 so now. For the savage people in many places of America, except 
 the government of small families, the concord whereof dependeth 
 on natural lust, have no government at all, and live at this day 
 in that brutish manner, as I said before. Howsoever, it may be 
 perceived what manner of life there would be, where there were 
 no common power to fear, by the manner of life, which men that 
 have formerly lived under a peaceful government, use to degen- 
 erate into, in a civil war. 
 
 But though there had never been any time, wherein particular 
 men were in a condition of war one against another; yet in all 
 times, kings, and persons of sovereign authority, because of their 
 independency, are in continual jealousies, and in the state and 
 posture of gladiators ; having their weapons pointing, and their 
 
84 HOBBES 
 
 eyes fixed on one another; that is, their forts, garrisons, and guns 
 upon the frontiers of their kingdoms; and continual spies upon 
 their neighbours; which is a posture of war. But because they 
 uphold thereby, the industry of their subjects; there does not 
 follow from it that misery, which accompanies the liberty of 
 particular men. 
 
 To this war of every man, against every man, this also is con- 
 sequent; that nothing can be unjust. The notions of right and 
 wrong, justice and injustice, have there no place. Where there is 
 no common power, there is no law: where no law, no injustice. 
 Force, and fraud, are in war the two cardinal virtues. Justice, 
 and injustice are none of the faculties neither of the body nor 
 mind. If they were, they might be in a man that were alone 
 in the world, as well as his senses, and passions. They are quali- 
 ties, that relate to men in society, not in solitude. It is consequent 
 also to the same condition, that there be no propriety, no dominion, 
 no mine and thine distinct; but only that to be every man's, that 
 he can get ; and for so long, as he can keep it. And thus much 
 for the ill condition, which man by mere nature is actually placed 
 in; though with a possibility to come out of it, consisting partly 
 in the passions, partly in his reason. 
 
 The passions that incline men to peace, are fear of death; 
 desire of such things as are necessary to commodious living; and 
 a hope by their industry to obtain them. And reason suggesteth 
 convenient articles of peace, upon which men may be drawn to 
 agreement. These articles, are they, which otherwise are called 
 the Laws of Nature: whereof I shall speak more particularly, 
 in the two following chapters. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. OF THE FIRST AND SECOND 
 NATURAL LAWS, AND OF CONTRACTS 
 
 The RIGHT OF NATURE, ' which writers commonly call jus 
 naturale, is the liberty each man hath, to use his own power, as he 
 will himself, for the preservation of his own nature; that is to 
 say, of his own life; and consequently, of doing anything which 
 
LEVIATHAN 85 
 
 in his own judgment and reason he shall conceive to be the aptest 
 means thereunto. 
 
 By LIBERTY, is understood, according to the proper significa- 
 tion of the word, the absence of external impediments: which 
 impediments, may oft take away part of a man's power to do 
 what he would; but cannot hinder him from using the power 
 left him, according as his judgment and reason shall dictate to 
 him. 
 
 A LAW ^T 7 TJATyETL. leoc naturalis, is a precept or general rule, 
 found out by reason, by which a man is forbidden to do that, 
 which is destructive of his life, or taketh away the means of pre- 
 serving the same; and to omit that, by which he thinketh it may 
 be best preserved. For though they that speak of this subject 
 use to confound jus and leoc, right and law: yet they ought to be 
 distinguished; because RIGHT consisteth in liberty to do, or to 
 forbear ; whereas LAW, determineth, and bindeth to one of them : 
 so that law, and right, differ as much as obligation, and liberty; 
 which in one and the same matter are inconsistent. 
 
 And because the condition of man, as hath been declared in 
 the precedent chapter, is a condition of war of every one against 
 every one ; in which case every one is governed by his own reason ; 
 and there is nothing he can make use of, that may not be a help 
 unto him in preserving his life against his enemies; it followeth, 
 that in such -a condition, every man has a right to everything; 
 even to one another's body. And therefore, as long as this natural 
 right of every man to everything endureth, there can be no secur- 
 ity to any man, how strong or wise soever he be, of living out the 
 time which Nature ordinarily alloweth men to live. And con- 
 sequently it is a precept, or general rule of reason, that every man 
 ought to endeavour peace, as far as he has hope o) obtaining it; 
 and when he cannot obtain it, that he may seek, and use, all helps 
 and advantages of war. The first branch of which rule containeth 
 I* th^firsj;, jmcLfundamental law of Nature; which is to seek peace, 
 and follow it. The second, the sum of the right of Nature : which 
 is, by all means we can, to defend ourselves. 
 jf From this fundamental law of Nature, by which men are com- 
 to endeavour peace, is derived this segppdjaw; that a 
 
86 HOBBES 
 
 man be willing, when others are so too, as jar- forth, as jor peace, 
 and dejence of himself he shall think it necessary to lay down this 
 right to all things; and be contented with so much liberty against 
 other men as he would allow other men against himself. For as 
 long as every man holdeth this right of doing anything he liketh ; 
 so long are all men in the condition of war. But if other men will 
 not lay down their right, as well as he; then there is no reason 
 for any one to divest himself of his: for that were to expose him- 
 self to prey, which no man is bound to, rather than to dispose 
 himself to peace. This is that law of the Gospel; whatsoever 
 you require that others should do to you, that do ye to them. And 
 that law of all men, quod tibi fieri non vis, alteri ne feceris. 
 
 To lay down a man's right to anything, is to divest himself 
 of the liberty of hindering another of the benefit of his own right 
 to the same. For he that renounceth, or passeth away his right, 
 giveth not to any other man a right which he had not before; 
 because there is nothing to which every man had not right by 
 Nature: but only standeth out of his way, that he may enjoy 
 his own original right, without hindrance from him; not without 
 hindrance from another. So that the effect which redoundeth 
 to one man, by another man's defect of right is but so much 
 diminution of impediments to the use of his own right original. 
 
 Right is laid aside, either by simply renouncing it ; or by trans- 
 ferring it to another. By simply RENOUNCING ; when he cares 
 not to whom the benefit thereof redoundeth. By TRANSFERRING ; 
 when he intendeth the benefit thereof to some certain person or 
 persons. And when a man hath in either manner abandoned, 
 or granted away his right; then is he said to be OBLIGED, or 
 BOUND, not to hinder those, to whom such right is granted, or 
 abandoned, from the benefit of it: and that he ought, and it is 
 his DUTY, not to make void that voluntary act of his own: and 
 that such hindrance is INJUSTICE, and INJURY, as being sine jure; 
 the right being before renounced, or transferred. So that injury, 
 or injustice, in the controversies of the world is somewhat like to 
 that, which in the disputations of scholars is called absurdity. For 
 as it is there called an absurdity, to contradict what one main- 
 tained in the beginning: so in the world it is called injustice, and 
 
LEVIATHAN 87 
 
 injury, voluntarily to undo that, which from the beginning he had 
 voluntarily done. The way by which a man either simply re- 
 nounceth, or transferreth his right, is a declaration, or significa- 
 tion, by some voluntary and sufficient sign, or signs, that he doth 
 so renounce, or transfer; or hath so renounced, or transferred 
 the same, to him that accepteth it. And these signs are either 
 words only, or actions only : or, as it happeneth most often, both 
 words and actions. And the same are the BONDS, by which men 
 are bound, and obliged : bonds, that have their strength, not from 
 their own nature, for nothing is more easily broken than a man's 
 word, but from fear of some evil consequence upon the rupture. 
 
 Whensoever a man transferreth his right, or renounceth it; it 
 is either in consideration of some right reciprocally transferred 
 to himself; or for some other good he hopeth for thereby. For 
 it is a voluntary act ; and of the voluntary acts of every man, the 
 object is some good to himself. And therefore there be some 
 rights, which no man can be understood by any words, or other 
 signs, to have abandoned, or transferred. As first a man cannot 
 lay down the right of resisting them, that assault him by force, 
 to take away his life; because he cannot be understood to aim 
 thereby, at any good to himself. The same may be said of wounds, 
 and chains, and imprisonment ; both because there is no benefit 
 consequent to such patience ; as there is to the patience of suffer- 
 ing another to be wounded, or imprisoned : as also because a man 
 cannot tell, when he seeth men proceed against him by violence, 
 whether they intend his death or not. And lastly the motive and 
 end for which this renouncing and transferring of right is intro- 
 duced, is nothing else but the security of a man's person, in his 
 life, and in the means of so preserving life, as not to be weary of 
 it. And therefore if a man by words, or other signs, seem to 
 despoil himself of the end, for which those signs were intended; 
 he is not to be understood as if he meant it, or that it was his will; 
 but that he was ignorant of how such words and actions were to 
 be interpreted. 
 
 The mutual transferring of right is that which men call CON- 
 TRACT. 
 
 There is difference between transferring of right to the thing; 
 
88 HOBBES 
 
 and transferring, or tradition, that is delivery of the thing itself. 
 For the thing may be delivered together with the translation of 
 the right; as in buying and selling with ready-money; or exchange 
 of goods, or lands; and it may be delivered some time after. 
 
 Again, one of the contractors, may deliver the thing contracted 
 for on his part, and leave the other to perform his part at some 
 determinate time after, and in the meantime be trusted ; and then 
 the contract on his part is called PACT, or COVENANT: or both 
 parts may contract now, to perform hereafter; in which cases, he 
 that is to perform in time to come, being trusted, his perform- 
 ance is called keeping o) promise, or faith; and the failing of 
 performance, if it be voluntary, violation of faith. 
 
 When the transferring of right, is not mutual : but one of the 
 parties transferreth, in hope to gain thereby friendship, or ser- 
 vice from another, or from his friends; or in hope to gain the 
 reputation of charity; or magnanimity; or to deliver his mind 
 from the pain of compassion; or in hope of reward in heaven; 
 this is not contract, but GIFT, FREE GIFT, GRACE: which words 
 signify one and the same thing. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. OF OTHER LAWS OF NATURE 
 
 From that law of Nature, by which we are obliged to transfer 
 to another, such rights, as being retained, hinder the peace of 
 mankind, there followeth a thiri; which is this, thai-men perform 
 their covenants made: without which, covenants are in vain, and 
 but empty words; and the right of all men to all things remaining, 
 we are still in the condition of war. 
 
 And in this law of Nature, consisteth the fountain and original 
 of JUSTICE. For where no covenant hath preceded, there hath no 
 right been transferred, and every man has right to everything; 
 and consequently, no action can be unjust. But when a cove- 
 nant is made, then to break it is unjust : and the definition of IN- 
 JUSTICE, is no other than the not performance of covenant. And 
 whatsoever is not unjust, is just. 
 
 But because covenants of mutual trust, where there is a fear 
 
LEVIATHAN 89 
 
 of not performance on either part, as hath been said in the former 
 chapter, are invalid; though the original of justice be the making 
 of covenants; yet injustice actually there can be none, till the 
 cause of such fear be taken awa'y; which while men are in the 
 natural condition of war, cannot be done. Therefore before the 
 names of just, and unjust can have place, there must be some 
 coercive power, to compel men equally to the performance of 
 their covenants, by the terror of some punishment, greater than 
 the benefit they expect by the breach of their covenant; and to 
 make good that propriety, which by mutual contract men acquire, 
 in recompense of the universal right they abandon: and such 
 power there is none before the erection of a commonwealth. 
 And this is also to be gathered out of the ordinary definition of 
 justice in the Schools: for they say, that justice is the constant 
 will of giving to every man his own. And therefore where there 
 is no own, that is no propriety, there is no injustice; and where 
 there is no coercive power erected, that is, where there is no 
 commonwealth, there is no propriety; all men having right to all 
 things: therefore where there is no commonwealth, there. nothing 
 is unjust. So that the nature of justice, consisteth in keeping of 
 valid covenants: but the validity of covenants begins not but 
 with the constitution of a civil power, sufficient to compel men 
 to keep them; and then it is also that propriety begins. 
 
 As justice dependeth on antecedent covenant; so does GRATI- 
 TUDE depend on antecedent grace; that is to say, antecedent 
 free gift : and is the foujlklaw of Nature ; which may be conceived 
 in this form, that a man which receiveth benefit jrom another oj 
 mere grace, endeavour that he which giveth it, have no reasonable 
 cause to repent him oj his good will. For no man giveth, but 
 with intention of good to himself ; because gift is voluntary ; and 
 of all voluntary acts, the object is to every man his own good; 
 of which if men see they shall be frustrated, there will be no 
 beginning of benevolence, or trust, nor consequently of mutual 
 help; nor of reconciliation of one man to another; and therefore 
 . they are to remain still in the condition of war; which is contrary 
 to the first and fundamental law of Nature, which commandeth 
 
9 o 
 
 HOBBES 
 
 men to seek peace. The breach of this law is called ingratitude; 
 and hath the same relation to grace, that injustice hath to obli- 
 gation by covenant. 
 
 Ajjfih^law of Nature is COMPLAISANCE; that is to say, that 
 every man strive to accommodate himself to the rest. For the under- 
 standing whereof, we may consider, that there is in men's aptness 
 to society, a diversity of nature, rising from their diversity of 
 affections; not unlike to that we see in stones brought together 
 for building of an edifice. For as that stone which by the asperity, 
 and irregularity of figure, takes more room from others than itself 
 fills; and for the hardness, cannot be easily made plain, and 
 thereby hindereth the building, is by the builders cast away as 
 unprofitable and troublesome: so also, a man that by asperity of 
 nature, will strive to retain those things which to himself are 
 superfluous, and to others necessary; and for the stubbornness 
 of his passions, cannot be corrected, is to be left, or cast out of 
 society, as cumbersome thereunto. For seeing every man, not 
 only by right, but also by necessity of nature, is supposed to 
 endeavour all he can, to obtain that which is necessary for his 
 conservation; he that shall oppose himself against it, for things 
 superfluous, is guilty of the war that thereupon is to follow; 
 and therefore doth that, which is contrary to the fundamental 
 law of Nature, which commandeth to seek peace. The observers 
 of this law, may be called SOCIABLE, the Latins call them corn- 
 modi; the contrary, stubborn, insociable, froward, intractable. 
 
 A sixth law of Nature is this, that upon caution of the future 
 time, a man ought to pardon the offences past oj them that repenting, 
 desire it. For PARDON, is nothing but granting of peace; which 
 though granted to them that persevere in their hostility, be not 
 peace, but fear; yet not granted to them that give caution of the 
 future time, is sign of an aversion to peace; and therefore con- 
 trary to the law of Nature. 
 
 A s.veotth is, that in revenges, that is, retribution of evil for 
 evil, men look not at the greatness oj the evil past, but the greatness 
 of. the good to follow. Whereby we are forbidden to inflict punish- 
 ment with any -other design, than for correction of the offender, 
 or direction of others. For this law is consequent to the next 
 
LEVIATHAN 91 
 
 before it, that commandeth pardon, upon security of the future 
 time. Besides, revenge, without respect to the example, and 
 profit to come, is a triumph or glorying in the hurt of another, 
 tending to no end ; for the end is always somewhat to come ; and 
 glorying to no end, is vain-glory, and contrary to reason, and 
 to hurt without reason, tendeth to the introduction of war; 
 which is against the law of Nature; and is commonly styled by 
 the name of cruelty. 
 
 And because all signs of hatred, or contempt, provoke to fight ; 
 insomuch as most men choose rather to hazard their life, than 
 not to be revenged; we may in the eighth place, for a law of 
 nature, set down this precept, that no man by deed, word, coun- 
 tenance, or gesture, declare hatred, or contempt o] another. The 
 breach of which law is commonly called contumely. 
 
 The question who is the better man, has no place in the con- 
 dition of mere nature; where, as has been shewn before, all men 
 are equal. The inequality that now is, has been introduced 
 by the laws civil. I know that Aristotle in the first book of his 
 Politics, for a foundation of his doctrine, maketh men by nature, 
 some more worthy to command, meaning the wiser sort, such 
 as he thought himself to be for his philosophy; others to serve, 
 meaning those that had strong bodies, but were not philosophers 
 as he; as if master and servant were not introduced by consent 
 of men, but by difference of wit ; which is not only against reason, 
 but also against experience. For there are very few so foolish, 
 that had not rather govern themselves, than be governed by others : 
 nor when the wise in their own conceit, contend by force, with 
 them who distrust their own wisdom, do they always, or often, or 
 almost at any time, get the victory. If Nature therefore have 
 made them equal, that equality is to be acknowledged: or if 
 nature have made men unequal; yet because men that think 
 themselves equal, .will not enter into conditions of peace, but 
 upon equal terms, such equality must be admitted. And there- 
 fore for the ninjji^ law of Nature, I put this, that every man 
 c acknowledge another jor his equal by nature. The breach of this 
 
 precept is pride. 
 A On this law dependeth another, that at the entrance into con- 
 
92 HOBBES 
 
 ditions 0} peace, no man require to reserve to himself any right, 
 which he is not content should be reserved to every one of the rest. 
 As it is necessary for all men that seek peace, to lay down certain 
 rights of nature; that is to say, not to have liberty to do all they 
 list : so is it necessary for man's life, to retain some, as right to 
 govern their own bodies; enjoy air, water, motion, ways to go 
 from place to place; and all things else, without which a man 
 cannot live, or not live well. If in this case, at the making of 
 peace, men require for themselves that which they would not 
 have to be granted to others, they do contrary to the precedent 
 law, that commandeth the acknowledgment of natural equality, 
 and therefore also against the law of Nature. The observers of 
 this law are those we call modest, and the breakers arrogant 
 men. The Greeks call the violation of this law TrXtovegia, that 
 is, a desire of more than their share. 
 
 Also if a man be trusted to judge between man and man, it is a 
 precept of the law of Nature, that he deal equally between them. 
 For without that, the controversies of men cannot be determined 
 but by war. He therefore that is partial in judgment, doth what 
 in him lies, to deter men from the use of judges and arbitrators; 
 and consequently, against the fundamental law of Nature, is the 
 cause of war. 
 
 The observance of this law, from the equal distribution to 
 each man, of that which in reason belongeth to him, is called 
 EQUITY, and, as I have said before, distributive justice: the viola- 
 tion, acception of persons, Trpoa-wiroXrj^a. 
 
 And from this followeth another law, that such things as can- 
 not be divided, be enjoyed in common, if it can be; and if the quan- 
 tity of the thing permit, without stint; otherwise proportionably 
 to the number of them that have right. For otherwise the distri- 
 bution is unequal, and contrary to equity. 
 
 But some things there, be, that can neither be divided, nor en- 
 joyed in common. Then, the law of Nature, which prescribeth 
 equity, requireth that the entire right, or else, making the use 
 alternate, the first possession, be determined by lot. For equal dis- 
 tribution, is of the law of Nature, and other means of equal 
 distribution cannot be imagined. 
 
LEVIATHAN 93 
 
 Of lots there be two sorts, arbitrary, and natural. Arbitrary, 
 is that which is agreed on by the competitors: natural, is either 
 primogeniture, which the Greeks call KAr/poi/o/xia, which signifies, 
 given by lot; or first seizure. 
 
 And therefore those things which cannot be enjoyed in com- 
 mon, nor divided, ought to be adjudged to the first possessor; and 
 in some cases to the first born, as acquired by lot. 
 
 It is also a law of Nature, that all men that mediate peace, be 
 allowed safe conduct. For the law that commandeth peace, as 
 the end, commandeth intercession, as the means; and to inter- 
 cession the means is safe conduct. 
 
 And because, though men be never so willing to observe these 
 laws, there may nevertheless arise questions concerning a man's 
 action; first, whether it were done, or not done; secondly, if 
 done, whether against the law, or not against the law ; the former 
 whereof, is called a question of fact; the latter a question of 
 right, therefore unless the parties to the question covenant 
 mutually to stand to the sentence of another, they are as far 
 from peace as ever. This other to whose sentence they submit is 
 ^called an ARBITRATOR. And therefore it is of the law of Nature, 
 that they that are at controversy, submit their right to the judg- 
 ment of an arbitrator. 
 
 And seeing every man is presumed to do all things in order to 
 his own benefit, no man is a fit arbitrator in his own cause; and 
 if he were never so fit; yet equity allowing to each party equal 
 benefit, if one be admitted to be judge, the other is to be admitted 
 also; and so the controversy, that is, the cause of war, remains 
 against the law of Nature. 
 
 For the same reason no man in any cause ought to be received 
 for arbitrator, to whom greater profit, or honour, or pleasure 
 apparently ariseth out of the victory of one party than of the 
 other: for he hath taken, though an unavoidable bribe, yet a 
 bribe; and no man can be obliged to trust him. And thus also 
 the controversy, and the condition of war remaineth, contrary 
 to the law of Nature. 
 
 And in a controversy of fact, the judge being to give no 
 more credit to one than to the other, if there be no other argu- 
 
9 4 HOBBES 
 
 merits, must give credit to a third; or to a third and fourth; or 
 more: for else the question is undecided, and left to force, con- 
 trary to the law of Nature. 
 
 These are the laws of Nature, dictating peace, for a means of 
 the conservation of men in multitudes; and which only concern 
 the doctrine of civil society. There be other things tending to 
 the destruction of particular men; as drunkenness, and all other 
 parts of intemperance; which may therefore also be reckoned 
 amongst those things which the law of Nature hath forbidden ; 
 but are not necessary to be mentioned, nor are pertinent enough 
 to this place. 
 
 And though this may seem too subtle a deduction of the laws 
 of Nature to be taken notice of by all men ; whereof the most part 
 are too busy in getting food, and the rest too negligent to under- 
 stand; yet to leave all men inexcusable, they have been con- 
 tracted into one easy sum, intelligible even to the meanest capa- 
 city; and that is, Do not that to another, which thou wouldst not 
 have done to thyself; which sheweth him, that he has no more 
 to do in learning the laws of nature, but, when weighing the actions 
 of other men with his own, they seem too heavy, to put them 
 into the other part of the balance, and his own into their place, 
 that his own passions, and self-love, may add nothing to the 
 weight ; and then there is none of these laws of Nature that will 
 not appear unto him very reasonable. 
 
 The laws of Nature oblige in \oro interno; that is to say, they 
 bind to a desire they should take place : but in foro externo; that 
 is, to the putting them in act, not always. For he that should be 
 modest, and tractable, and perform all he promises, in such time 
 and place where no man else should do so, should but make 
 himself a prey to others, and procure his own certain ruin, con- 
 trary to the ground of all laws of Nature, which tend to nature's 
 preservation. And again, he that having sufficient security, that 
 others shall observe the same laws towards him, observes them 
 not himself, seeketh not peace, but war; and consequently the 
 destruction of his nature by violence. 
 
 And whatsoever laws bind in joro interno, may be broken, not 
 only by a fact contrary to the law, but also by a fact according 
 
LEVIATHAN 95 
 
 to it, in case a man think it contrary. For though his action in 
 this case be according to the law, yet his purpose was against the 
 law; which, where the obligation is in joro interno, is a breach. 
 
 The laws nf Tfofyrp a.rp immutable and eternal; for injustice, 
 ingratitude, arrogance, pride, iniquity, acception of persons, and 
 the rest, can never be made lawful. For it can never be that war 
 shall preserve life, and peace destroy it. 
 
 The same laws, because they oblige only to a desire and en- 
 deavour, I mean an unfeigned and constant endeavour, are easy 
 to be observed. For in that they require nothing but endeavour, 
 he that endeavoureth their performance, fulfilleth them; and he 
 that fulfilleth the law, is just. 
 
 And the science of them is the true and only moral philosophy. 
 For moral philosophy is nothing else but the science of what is 
 good, and evil, in the conversation and society of mankind. Good, 
 and evil, are names that signify our appetites, and aversions; 
 which in different tempers, customs, and doctrines of men, are 
 different : and divers men, differ not only in their judgment, on 
 the senses of what is pleasant, and unpleasant to the taste, smell, 
 hearing, touch, and sight; but also of what is conformable or 
 disagreeable to reason, in the actions of common life. Nay, the 
 same man, in divers times, differs from himself; and one time 
 praiseth, that is, calleth good, what another time he dispraiseth, 
 and calleth evil : from whence arise disputes, controversies, and 
 at last war. And therefore so long as a man is in the condition 
 of mere nature, which is a condition of war, as private appetite 
 is the measure of good and evil : and consequently all men agree 
 on this, that peace is good, and therefore also the way or means 
 of peace, which, as I have shewed before, are justice, gratitude, 
 modesty, equity, mercy, and the rest of the laws of Nature, are 
 good ; that is to say, moral virtues; and their contrary vices, evil. 
 Now the science of virtue and vice, is moral philosophy; and 
 therefore the true doctrine of the laws of Nature is the true moral 
 philosophy. But the writers of moral philosophy, though they 
 acknowledge the same virtues and vices; yet not seeing wherein 
 consisted their goodness; nor that they come to be praised, as 
 the means of peaceable, sociable, and comfortable living, place 
 
96 HOBBES 
 
 them in a mediocrity of passions: as if not the cause, but the 
 degree of daring, made fortitude; or not the cause, but the 
 quantity of a gift, made liberality. 
 
 These dictates of reason, men used to call by the name of 
 laws, but improperly : for they are but conclusions, or theorems 
 concerning what conduceth to the conservation and defence 
 of themselves ; whereas law, properly, is the word of him that by 
 right hath command over others. But yet if we consider the same 
 theorems, as delivered in the word of God, that by right com- 
 mandeth all things; then are they properly called laws. 
 
 PART II. OF COMMONWEALTH 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. OF THE CAUSES, GENERA- 
 TION, AND DEFINITION OF A COMMON- 
 WEALTH 
 
 The final cause, end, or design of men, who naturally love 
 liberty, and dominion over others, in the introduction of that 
 restraint upon themselves, in which we see them live in common- 
 wealths, is the foresight of their own preservation, and of a more 
 contented life thereby; that is to say, of getting themselves out 
 from that miserable condition of war, which is necessarily con- 
 sequent, as hath been shown in chapter xiii, to the natural 
 passions of men, when there is no visible power to keep them in 
 awe, and tie them by fear of punishment to the performance of 
 their covenants, and observation of those laws of Nature set down 
 in the fourteenth and fifteenth chapters. 
 
 For the laws of Nature, as justice, equity, modesty, mercy, and, 
 in sum, doing to others, as we would be done to, of themselves, 
 without the terror of some power, to cause them to be observed, 
 are contrary to our natural passions, that carry us to partiality, 
 pride, revenge, and the like. And covenants, without the sword, 
 are but words, and of no strength to secure a man at all. There- 
 fore notwithstanding the laws of nature, which every one hath 
 then kept, when he has the will to keep them, when he can do it 
 
LEVIATHAN 97 
 
 safely, if there be no power erected, or not great enough for our 
 security, every man will, and may lawfully rely on his own 
 strength and art, for caution against all other men. And in all 
 places, where men have lived by small families, to rob and spoil 
 one another, has been a trade, and so far from being reputed 
 against the law of Nature, that the greater spoils they gained, 
 the greater was their honour; and men observed no other laws 
 therein, but the laws of honour; that is, to abstain from cruelty, 
 leaving to men their lives, and instruments of husbandry. And 
 as small families did then ; so now do cities and kingdoms, which 
 are but greater families, for their own security, enlarge their 
 dominions, upon all pretences of danger, and fear of invasion, 
 or assistance that may be given to invaders, and endeavour as 
 much as they can, to subdue, or weaken their neighbours, by 
 open force and secret arts, for want of other caution, justly; and 
 are remembered for it in after ages with honour. 
 
 Nor is it the joining together of a small number of men, that 
 gives them this security; because in small numbers, small addi- 
 tions on the one side or the other, make the advantage of strength 
 so great, as is sufficient to carry the victory; and therefore gives 
 encouragement to an invasion. The multitude sufficient to con- 
 fide in for our security, is not determined by any certain number, 
 but by comparisQn with the enemy we fear; and is then sufficient 
 when the odds of the enemy is not of so visible and conspicuous 
 moment, to determine the event of war, as to move him to attempt. 
 
 And be there never so great a multitude; yet if their actions 
 be directed according to their particular judgments, and particu- 
 lar appetites, they can expect thereby no defence, nor protection, 
 neither against a common enemy, nor against the injuries of one 
 another. For being distracted in opinions concerning the best 
 use and application of their strength, they do not help but hinder 
 one another; and reduce their strength by mutual opposition to 
 nothing: whereby they are easily, not only subdued by a very 
 few that agree together; but also when there is no common 
 enemy, they make war upon each other, for their particular 
 interests. For if we could suppose a great multitude of men to 
 consent in the observation of justice, and other laws of Nature, 
 
98 HOBBES 
 
 without a common power to keep them all in awe; we might as 
 well suppose all mankind to do the same ; and then there neither 
 would be, nor need to be any civil government or commonwealth 
 at all; because there would be peace without subjection. 
 
 Nor is it enough for the security, which men desire should last 
 all the time of their life, that they be governed, and directed by 
 one judgment, for a limited time; as in one battle, or one war. 
 For though they obtain a victory by their unanimous endeavour 
 against a foreign enemy; yet afterwards, when either they have 
 no common enemy, or he that by one part is held for an enemy, 
 is by another part held for a friend, they must needs by the 
 difference of their interests dissolve, and fall again into a war 
 amongst themselves. 
 
 It is true, that certain living creatures, as bees and ants, live 
 sociably one with another, which are therefore by Aristotle 
 numbered amongst political creatures; and yet have no other 
 direction, than their particular judgments and appetites; nor 
 speech, whereby one of them can signify to another, what he 
 thinks expedient for the common benefit: and therefore some 
 man may perhaps desire to know, why mankind cannot do the 
 same. To which I answer, 
 
 First, that men are continually in competition for honour and 
 dignity, which these creatures are not ; and consequently amongst 
 men there ariseth on that ground, envy and hatred, and finally 
 war; but amongst these not so. 
 
 Secondly, that amongst these creatures, the common good 
 differeth not from the private; and being by nature inclined to 
 their private, they procure thereby the common benefit. But 
 man, whose joy consisteth in comparing himself with other men, 
 can relish nothing but what is eminent. 
 
 Thirdly, that these creatures, having not, as man, the use of 
 reason, do not see, nor think they see any fault, in the adminis- 
 tration of their common business; whereas amongst men, there 
 are very many that think themselves wiser, and abler to govern 
 the public, better than the rest; and these strive to reform and 
 innovate, one this way, another that way; and thereby bring it 
 into distraction and civil war. 
 
LEVIATHAN 99 
 
 Fourthly, that these creatures, though they have some use of 
 voice, in making known to one another their desires and other 
 affections; yet they want that art of words, by which some men 
 can represent to others, that which is good, in the likeness of evil; 
 and evil, in the likeness of good ; and augment, or diminish the 
 apparent greatness of good and evil; discontenting men, and 
 troubling their peace at their pleasure. 
 
 Fifthly, irrational creatures cannot distinguish between injury, 
 and damage; and therefore as long as they be at ease, they are 
 not offended with their fellows: whereas man is then most 
 troublesome, when he is most at ease ; for then it is that he loves 
 to shew his wisdom, and control the actions of them that govern 
 the commonwealth. 
 
 Lastly, the agreement of these creatures is natural; that of 
 men, is by covenant only, which is artificial : and therefore it is 
 no wonder if there be somewhat else required, besides covenant, 
 to make their agreement constant and lasting; which is a com- 
 mon power, to keep them in awe, and to direct their actions to 
 the common benefit. 
 
 The only way to erect such a common power, as may be able 
 to defend them from the invasion of foreigners, and the injuries 
 of one another, and thereby to secure them in such sort, as that 
 by their own industry, and by the fruits of the earth, they may 
 nourish themselves, and live contentedly; is, to confer all their 
 power and strength upon one man, or upon one assembly of 
 men, that may reduce all their wills, by plurality of voices, unto 
 one will: which is as much as to say, to appoint one man, or 
 assembly of men, to bear their person ; and every one to own, and 
 acknowledge himself to be author of whatsoever he that so bear- 
 eth their person, shall act, or cause to be acted, in those things 
 which concern the common peace and safety; and therein to 
 submit their wills, every one to his will, and their judgments, to 
 his judgment. This is more than consent, or concord; it is a real 
 unity of them all, in one and the same person, made by covenant 
 of every man with every man, in such manner, as if every man 
 should say to every man, / authorize and give up my right of 
 governing myself, to this man, or to this assembly of men, on this 
 
ioo HOBBES 
 
 condition, that thou give up thy right to him, and authorize all his 
 actions in like manner. This done, the multitude so united in 
 one person is called a COMMONWEALTH, in Latin CIVITAS. This 
 is the generation of that great LEVIATHAN, or rather, to speak 
 more reverently, of that mortal god, to which we owe under the 
 immortal God, our peace and defence. For by this authority, 
 given him by every particular man in the Commonwealth, he 
 hath the use of so much power and strength conferred on him, 
 that by terror thereof, he is enabled to perform the wills of them 
 all, to peace at home, and mutual aid against their enemies 
 abroad. And in him consisteth the essence of the Commonwealth ; 
 which, to define it, is one person, of whose acts a great multitude, 
 by mutual covenants one with another, have made themselves every 
 one the author, to the end he may use the strength and means of 
 them all, as he shall think expedient, jor their peace and com- 
 mon defence. 
 
 And he that carrieth this person is called SOVEREIGN, and said 
 to have sovereign power; and every one besides, his SUBJECT. 
 
 The attaining to this sovereign power is by two ways. One, by 
 natural force; as when a man maketh his children to submit 
 themselves, and their children, to his government, as being able 
 to destroy them if they refuse; or by war subdueth his enemies to 
 his will, giving them their lives on that condition. The other is, 
 when men agree amongst themselves to submit to some man 
 or assembly of men, voluntarily, on confidence to be protected 
 by him against all others. This latter may be called a polit- 
 ical commonwealth, or commonwealth by institution; and the 
 former, a commonwealth by acquisition. 
 
. 
 
 RENE DESCARTES 
 
 (1596-1650) 
 
 DISCOURSE ON METHOD 
 
 Translated from the French * by 
 JOHN VEITCH 
 
 PART I 
 
 GOOD SENSE is, of all things among men, the most equally 
 distributed; for every one thinks himself so abundantly pro- 
 vided with it, that those even who are the most difficult to satisfy 
 in everything else, do not usually desire a larger measure of this 
 quality than they already possess. And in this it is not likely 
 that all are mistaken: the conviction is rather to be held as 
 testifying that the power of judging aright and of distinguishing 
 Truth from Error, which is properly what is called Good Sense 
 or Reason, is by nature equal in all men ; and that the diversity 
 of our opinions, consequently, does not arise from some being 
 endowed with a larger share of Reason than others, but solely 
 from this, that we conduct our thoughts along different ways, 
 and do not fix our attention on the same objects. For to be 
 possessed of a vigorous mind is not enough; the prime requisite 
 > is~rightly to apply it. The greatest minds, as they are capable 
 61 the highest excellencies, are open likewise to the greatest 
 aberrations; and those who travel very slowly may yet make 
 far greater progress, provided they keep always to the straight 
 road, than those who, while they run, forsake it. 
 
 For myself, I have never fancied my mind to be in any respect 
 
 * Translated from the Discours de la Methode pour bien conduire sa raison et 
 chercher de la verite dans les sciences, Leyde, 1637; Lat. [by G. de Courcelles] 
 Specimina Philosophiae, anno 1644 (revised by Descartes). The original French 
 edition, which was made the basis of the translation, was minutely compared 
 by the translator with the revised Latin edition, and preference given to the 
 amendments of Descartes. The translation appeared in 1850 and entered its 
 thirteenth edition in 1902. 
 
102 DESCARTES 
 
 more perfect than those of the generality; on the contrary, I have 
 often wished that I were equal to some others in promptitude of 
 thought, or in clearness and distinctness of imagination, or in 
 fulness and readiness of memory. And besides these, I know of 
 no other qualities that contribute to the perfection of the mind; 
 for as to the Reason or Sense, inasmuch as it is that alone which 
 constitutes us men, and distinguishes us from the brutes, I am 
 disposed to believe that it is to be found complete in each indi- 
 vidual; and on this point to adopt the common opinion of 
 philosophers, who say that the difference of greater and less 
 holds only among the accidents, and not among the forms or 
 natures of individuals of the same species. 
 
 I will not hesitate, however, to avow my belief that it has been 
 my singular good fortune to have very early in life fallen in with 
 certain tracks which have conducted me to considerations and 
 maxims, of which I have formed a Method that gives me the 
 means, as I think, of gradually augmenting my knowledge, and 
 of raising it by little and little to the highest point which the 
 mediocrity of my talents and the brief duration of my life will 
 permit me to reach. For I have already reaped from it such fruits 
 that, although I have been accustomed to think lowly enough 
 of myself, and although when I look with the eye of a philoso- 
 pher at the varied courses and pursuits of mankind at large, I 
 find scarcely one which does not appear vain and useless, I nev- 
 ertheless derive the highest satisfaction from the progress I 
 conceive myself to have already made in the search after truth, 
 and cannot help entertaining such expectations of the future as 
 to believe that if, among the occupations of men as men, there 
 is any one really excellent and important, it is that which I have 
 chosen. 
 
 After all, it is possible I may be mistaken; and it is but a little 
 copper and glass, perhaps, that I take for gold and diamonds. 
 I know how very liable we are to delusion in what relates to our- 
 selves, and also how much the judgments of our friends are to 
 be suspected when given in our favour. But I shall endeavour 
 in this Discourse to describe the paths I have followed, and to 
 delineate my life as in a picture, in order that each one may be 
 
DISCOURSE ON METHOD 103 
 
 able to judge of them for himself, and that in the general opinion 
 entertained of them, as gathered from current report, I myself 
 may have a new help towards instruction to be added to those 
 I have been in the habit of employing. 
 
 My present design, then, is not to teach the Method which 
 each ought to follow for the right conduct of his Reason, but 
 solely to describe the way in which I have endeavoured to con- 
 duct my own. They who set themselves to give precepts must 
 of course regard themselves as possessed of greater skill than 
 those to whom they prescribe; and if they err in the slightest 
 particular, they subject themselves to censure. But as this Tract 
 is put forth merely as a history, or, if you will, as a tale, in which, 
 amid some examples worthy of imitation, there will be found, 
 perhaps, as many more which it were advisable not to follow, 
 I hope it will prove useful to some without being hurtful to any, 
 and that my openness will find some favour with all. 
 
 From my childhood, I have been familiar with letters; and as 
 I was given to believe that by their help a clear and certain know- 
 ledge of all that is useful in life might be acquired, I was ardently 
 desirous of instruction. But as soon as I had finished the entire 
 course of study, at the close of which it is customary to be ad- 
 mitted into the order of the learned, I completely changed my 
 opinion. For I found myself involved in so many doubts and 
 errors, that I was convinced I had advanced no farther in all my 
 attempts at teaming, than the discovery at every turn of my own 
 ignorance. And yet I was studying in one of the most celebrated 
 Schools in Europe, in which I thought there must be learned 
 men, if such were anywhere to be found. I had been taught all 
 that others learned there; and not contented with the sciences 
 actually taught us, I had, in addition, read all the books that had 
 fallen into my hands, treating of such branches as are esteemed 
 the most curious and rare. I knew the judgment which others 
 had formed of me; and I did not find that I was considered in- 
 ferior to my fellows, although there were among them some who 
 were already marked out to fill the places of our instructors. And, 
 in fine, our age appeared to me as flourishing, and as fertile in 
 powerful minds as any preceding one. I was thus led to take the 
 
io 4 DESCARTES 
 
 liberty of judging of all other men by myself, and of concluding 
 that there was no science in existence that was of such a nature 
 as I had previously been given to believe. 
 
 I still continued, however, to hold in esteem the studies of the 
 Schools. I was aware that the Languages taught in them are 
 necessary to the understanding of the writings of the ancients; 
 that the grace of Fable stirs the mind; that the memorable 
 deeds of History elevate it; and, if read with discretion, aid in 
 forming the judgment; that the perusal of all excellent books is, 
 as it were, to interview with the noblest men of past ages, who 
 have written them, and even a studied interview, in which are 
 discovered to us only their choicest thoughts ; that Eloquence has 
 incomparable force and beauty; that Poesy has its ravishing 
 graces and delights; that in the Mathematics there are many 
 refined discoveries eminently suited to gratify the inquisitive, as 
 well as further all the arts and lessen the labour of man; that 
 numerous highly useful precepts and exhortations to virtue are 
 contained in treatises on Morals; that Theology points out the 
 path to heaven ; that Philosophy affords the means of discoursing 
 with an appearance of truth on all matters, and commands the 
 admiration of the more simple; that Jurisprudence, Medicine, 
 and the other Sciences, secure for their cultivators honours 
 and riches ; and, in fine, that it is useful to bestow some attention 
 upon all, even upon those abounding the most in superstition 
 and error, that we may be in a position to determine their real 
 value, and guard against being deceived. 
 
 But I believed that I had already given sufficient time to Lan- 
 guages, and likewise to the reading of the writings of the ancients, 
 to their Histories and Fables. For to hold converse with those 
 of other ages and to travel, are almost the same thing. It is useful 
 to know something of the manners of different nations, that we 
 may be enabled to form a more correct judgment regarding our 
 own, and be prevented from thinking that everything contrary 
 to our customs is ridiculous and irrational, a conclusion usually 
 come to by those whose experience has been limited to their own 
 country. On the other hand, when too much time is occupied 
 in travelling, we become strangers to our native country; and 
 
DISCOURSE ON METHOD 105 
 
 the over curious in the customs of the past are generally ignorant 
 of those of the present. Besides, fictitious narratives lead us to 
 imagine the possibility of many events that are impossible; and 
 even the most faithful histories, if they do not wholly misre- 
 present matters, or exaggerate their importance to render the 
 account of them more worthy of perusal, omit, at least, almost 
 always the meanest and least striking of the attendant circum- 
 stances; hence it happens that the remainder does not represent 
 the truth, and that such as regulate their conduct by examples 
 drawn from this source, are apt to fall into the extravagances 
 of the knight- errants of Romance, and to entertain projects that 
 exceed their powers. 
 
 I esteemed Eloquence highly, and was in raptures with 
 Poesy; but I thought that both were gifts of nature rather than 
 fruits of study. Those in whom the faculty of Reason is pre- 
 dominant, and who most skilfully dispose their thoughts with a 
 view to render them clear 'and intelligible, are always the best 
 able to persuade others of the truth of what they lay down, 
 though they should speak only in the language of Lower Brit- 
 tany, and be wholly ignorant of the rules of Rhetoric ; and those 
 whose minds are stored with the most agreeable fancies, and 
 who can give expression to them with the greatest embellish- 
 ment and harmony, are still the best poets, though unacquainted 
 with the Art of Poetry. 
 
 I was especially delighted with the Mathematics, on account 
 of the certitude and evidence of their reasonings: but I had not 
 as yet a precise knowledge of their true use; and thinking that 
 they but contributed to the advancement of the mechanical arts, 
 I was astonished that foundations, so strong and solid, should 
 have had no loftier superstructure reared on them. On the 
 other hand, I compared the disquisitions of the ancient Moralists 
 to very towering and magnificent palaces with no better foun- 
 dation than sand and mud: they laud the virtues very highly, 
 and exhibit them as estimable far above anything on earth; but 
 they give us no adequate criterion of virtue, and frequently that 
 which they designate with so fine a name is but apathy, or pride, 
 or despair, or parricide. 
 
io6 DESCARTES 
 
 I revered our Theology, and aspired as much as any one to 
 reach heaven : but being given assuredly to understand that the 
 way is not less open to the most ignorant than to the most learned, 
 and that the revealed truths which lead to heaven are above our 
 comprehension, I did not presume to subject them to the impo- 
 tency of my Reason; and I thought that in order competently to 
 undertake their examination, there was need of some special 
 help from heaven, and of being more than man. 
 
 Of Philosophy I will say nothing, except that when I saw 
 that it had been cultivated for many ages by the most distin- 
 guished men, and that yet there is not a single matter within its 
 sphere which is not still in dispute, and nothing, therefore, which 
 is above doubt, I did not presume to anticipate that my success 
 would be greater in it than that of others; and further, when I con- 
 sidered the number of conflicting opinions touching a single 
 matter that may be upheld by learned men, while there can be 
 but one true, I reckoned as .well-nigh false all that was only 
 probable. 
 
 As to the other Sciences, inasmuch as these borrow their 
 principles from Philosophy, I judged that no solid superstruc- 
 tures could be reared on foundations so infirm; and neither the 
 honour nor the gain held out by them was sufficient to determine 
 me to their cultivation : for I was not, thank Heaven, in a con- 
 dition which compelled me to make merchandise of Science for 
 the bettering of my fortune ; and though I might not profess to 
 scorn glory as a Cynic, I yet made very slight account of that 
 honour which I hoped to acquire only through fictitious titles. 
 And, in fine, of false Sciences I thought I knew the worth suffi- 
 ciently to escape being deceived by the professions of an alche- 
 mist, the predictions of an astrologer, the impostures of a magi- 
 cian, or by the artifices and boasting of any of those who profess 
 to know things of which they are ignorant. 
 
 For these reasons, as soon as my age permitted me to pass 
 from under the control of my instructors, I entirely abandoned 
 the study of letters, and resolved no longer to seek any other 
 science than the knowledge of myself, or of the great book of the 
 world. I spent the remainder of my youth in travelling, in visit- 
 
DISCOURSE ON METHOD 107 
 
 ing courts and armies, in holding intercourse with men of differ- 
 ent dispositions and ranks, in collecting varied experience, in 
 proving myself in the different situations into which fortune 
 threw me, and, above all, in making such reflection on the matter 
 of my experience as to secure my improvement. For it occurred 
 to me that I should find much more truth in the reasonings of 
 each individual with reference to the affairs in which he is per- 
 sonally interested, and the issue of which must presently punish 
 him if he has judged amiss, than in those conducted by a man of 
 letters in his study, regarding speculative matters that are of no 
 practical moment, and followed by no consequences to himself, 
 farther, perhaps, than that they foster his vanity the better the 
 more remote they are from common sense; requiring, as they 
 must in this case, the exercise of greater ingenuity and art to 
 render them probable. In addition, I had always a most earnest 
 desire to know how to distinguish the true from the false, in 
 order that I might be able clearly to discriminate the right path 
 in life, and proceed in it with confidence. 
 
 It is true that, while busied only in considering the manners 
 of other men, I found here, too, scarce any ground for settled 
 conviction, and remarked hardly less contradiction among them 
 than in the 'Opinions of the philosophers. So that the greatest 
 advantage I derived from the study consisted in this, that, 
 observing many things which, however extravagant and ridicu- 
 lous to our apprehension, are yet by common consent received 
 and approved by other great nations, I learned to entertain 
 too decided a belief in regard to nothing of the truth of which I 
 had been persuaded merely by example and custom : and thus I 
 gradually extricated myself from many errors powerful enough 
 to darken our Natural Intelligence, and incapacitate us in great 
 measure from listening to Reason. But after I had been occupied 
 several years in thus studying the book of the world, and in 
 essaying to gather some experience, I at length resolved to make 
 myself an object of study, and to employ all the powers of my 
 mind in choosing the paths I ought to follow; an undertaking 
 which was accompanied with greater success than it .would have 
 been had I never quitted my country or my books. 
 
io8 DESCARTES 
 
 PART II 
 
 I was then in Germany, attracted thither by the wars in that 
 country, which have not yet been brought to a termination; 
 and as I was returning to the army from the coronation of the 
 Emperor, the setting in of winter arrested me in a locality where, 
 as I found no society to interest me, and was besides fortunately 
 undisturbed by any cares or passions, I remained the whole day 
 in seclusion, 1 with full opportunity to occupy my attention with 
 my own thoughts. Of these one of the very first that occurred 
 to me was, that [there is seldom so much perfection in works 
 composed of many separate parts, upon which different hands 
 have been employed, as in those completed by a single master^ 
 Thus it is observable that the buildings which a single archi- 
 tect has planned and executed, are generally more elegant and 
 commodious than those which several have attempted to improve, 
 by making old walls serve for purposes for which they were not 
 originally built. Thus also, those ancient cities which, from being 
 at first only villages, have become, in course of time, large towns, 
 are usually but ill laid out compared with the regularly con- 
 structed towns which a professional architect has freely planned 
 on an open plain; so that although the several buildings of 
 the former may often equal or surpass in beauty those of the 
 latter, yet when one observes their indiscriminate juxtaposition, 
 there a large one and here a small, and the consequent crooked- 
 ness and irregularity of the streets, one is disposed to allege 
 that chance rather than any human will guided by reason, must 
 have led to such an arrangement. And if we consider that never- 
 theless there have been at all times certain officers whose duty 
 it was to see that private buildings contributed to public orna- 
 ment, the difficulty of reaching high perfection with but the 
 materials of others to operate on, will be readily acknowledged. 
 In the same way I fancied that those nations which, starting 
 from a semi-barbarous state and advancing to civilisation by 
 slow degrees, have had their laws successively determined, and, 
 as it were, forced upon them simply by experience of the hurt- 
 
 1 Literally, in a room heated by means of a stove. 
 
DISCOURSE ON METHOD 109 
 
 fulness of particular crimes and disputes, would by this process 
 come to be possessed of less perfect institutions than those which, 
 from the commencement of their association as communities, 
 have followed the appointments of some wise legislator. It is 
 jthus quite certain that the constitution of the true religion, the 
 nrHjnn.nr.es of whjrh a rp rWi V fr| frnpi Qnrj J rrniHt frp incompar-^ 
 ably superior to that of every other. And, to speak of human 
 affairs, I believe that the past preeminence of Sparta was due 
 not to the goodness of each of its laws in particular, for many 
 of these were very strange, and even opposed to good morals, 
 but to the circumstance that, originated by a single individual, 
 they all tended to a single end. In the same way I thought 
 that Jthe sciences contained in books, (such of them at least as 
 are made up of probable reasonings, without demonstrations,) 
 composed as they are of the opinions of many different individ- 
 uals massed together, are farther removed from truth than the 
 simple inferences which a man of good sen.<v* u^ing his nat- 
 ural and unprejudiced judgment draws respecting the matters. 
 oTlns experience. And because we have all to pass through a 
 state of infancy to manhood, and have been of necessity, for a 
 length of time, governed by our desires and preceptors, (whose 
 dictates were frequently conflicting, while neither perhaps al- 
 ways counselled us for the best,) I farther concluded that it is 
 almost impossible that our judgments can be so correct or solid 
 as they would have been, had our Reason been mature from 
 the moment of our birth, and had we always been guided by it 
 alone. 
 
 It is true, however, that it is not customary to pull down all 
 the houses of a town with the single design of rebuilding them 
 differently, and thereby rendering the streets more handsome; 
 but it often happens that a private individual takes down his 
 own with the view of erecting it anew, and that people are even 
 sometimes constrained to this when their houses are in danger 
 of falling from age, or when the foundations are insecure. With 
 this before me by way of example, I was persuaded that it would 
 indeed be preposterous for a private individual to think of 
 reforming a state by fundamentally changing it throughout, 
 
no DESCARTES 
 
 and overturning it in order to set it up amended; and the same 
 I thought was true of any similar project for reforming the body 
 of the Sciences, or the order of teaching them established in the 
 Schools: but as for the opinions which up to that time I had 
 embraced, I thought that I could not do better thamresolve at 
 once to sweep them wholly away, that I might afterwards be in 
 a position to admit either others more correct, or even perhaps 
 the same when they had undergone the scrutiny of ReasonX^I 
 firmly believed that in this way I should much better succeed 
 in the conduct of my life, than if I \built only upon old founda- 
 tions, and leant upon principles which, in my youth, I had taken 
 upon trustN^For although I recognised various difficulties in this 
 undertaking, these were not, however, without remedy, nor once 
 to be compared with such as attend the slightest reformation in 
 public affairs. Large bodies, if once overthrown, are with great 
 difficulty set up again, or even kept erect when once seriously 
 shaken, and the fall of such is always disastrous. Then if there 
 are any imperfections in the constitutions of states, (and that 
 many such exist the diversity of constitutions is alone sufficient 
 to assure us,) custom has without doubt materially smoothed 
 their inconveniencies, and has even managed to steer altogether 
 clear of, or insensibly corrected a number which sagacity could 
 not have provided against with equal effect; and, in fine, the 
 defects are almost always more tolerable than the change neces- 
 sary for their removal; in the same manner that highways which 
 wind among mountains, by being much frequented, become 
 gradually so smooth and commodious, that it is much better to 
 follow them than to seek a straighter path by climbing over the 
 tops of rocks and descending to the bottoms of precipices. 
 
 Hence it is that I cannot in any degree approve of those rest- 
 less and busy meddlers who, called neither by birth nor fortune 
 to take part in the management of public affairs, are yet always 
 projecting reforms; and if I thought that this Tract contained 
 aught which might justify the suspicion that I was a victim of 
 such folly, I would by no means permit its publication. I have 
 never contemplated anything higher than the reformation of my 
 own opinions, and basing them on a foundation wholly my own. 
 
DISCOURSE ON METHOD in 
 
 And although my own satisfaction with my work has led me to 
 present here a draft of it, I do not by any means therefore recom- 
 mend to every one else to make a similar attempt. Those whom 
 God has endowed with a larger measure of genius will entertain, 
 perhaps, designs still more exalted ; but for the many I am much 
 afraid lest even the present undertaking be more than they can 
 safely venture to imitate. The single design to strip one's self 
 of all past beliefs is one that ought not to be taken by every one. 
 The majority of men is composed of two classes, for neitheFof 
 which would this be at all a befitting resolution : in the first place, 
 of those who with more than a due confidence in their own 
 powers, are precipitate in their judgments and want the patience 
 requisite for orderly and circumspect thinking; whence it hap- 
 pens, that if men of this class once take the liberty to doubt of 
 their accustomed opinions, and quit the beaten highway, they 
 will never be able to thread the byeway that would lead them by 
 a shorter course, and will lose themselves and continue to wander 
 for life ; in the second place, of those who, possessed of sufficient 
 sense or modesty to determine that there are others who excel 
 them in the power of discriminating between truth and error, 
 and by whom they may be instructed, ought rather to content 
 themselves with the opinions of such than trust for more correct 
 to their own Reason. 
 
 For my own part, I should doubtless have belonged to the 
 latter class, had I received instruction from but one master, or 
 had I never known the diversities of opinion that from time 
 immemorial have prevailed among men of the greatest learning. 
 But I had become aware, even so early as during my college life, 
 that no opinion, however absurd and incredible, can be imagined, 
 which has not been maintained by some one of the philosophers; 
 and afterwards in the course of my travels I remarked that all 
 those whose opinions are decidedly repugnant to ours are not 
 on that account barbarians and savages, but on the contrary that 
 many of these nations make an equally good, if not a better, use' 
 of their Reason than we do. I took into account also the very 
 different character which a person brought up from infancy in 
 France or Germany exhibits, from that which, with the same 
 
ii2 DESCARTES 
 
 mind originally, this individual would have possessed had he 
 lived always among the Chinese or with savages, and the cir- 
 cumstance that in dress itself the fashion which pleased us ten 
 years ago, and which may again, perhaps, be received into favour 
 before ten years have gone, appears to us at this moment extrava- 
 gant and ridiculous. I was thus led to infer that the grrmpd^nf^ 
 our opinions is far more custom and exam-pie than any certain 
 .knowledge. And, finally, although such be the ground of our 
 opinions, I remarked that a plurality of suffrages is no guarantee 
 of truth where it is at all of difficult discovery, as in such cases 
 it is much more likely that it will be found by one than by many. 
 I could, however, select from the crowd no one whose opinions 
 seemed worthy of preference, and thus I found myself con- 
 strained, as it were, to nsp rny own K^g"" i" thp rnnrl 11r t pf 
 
 my life. 
 
 But like one walking alone and in the dark, ^resolved to pro- 
 ^eed so slowly and with such circumspection, that if I did not 
 advance far, I would at least guard against falling. I did not 
 even choose to dismiss summarily any of the opinions that had 
 crept into my belief without having been introduced by Reason, 
 but first of all took sufficient time carefully to satisfy myself of 
 the general nature of the task I was setting myself, and ascertain 
 the true Method by which to arrive at the knowledge of what- 
 ever lay within the compass of my powers. 
 
 Among the branches of Philosophy, I had, at an earlier 
 period, given some attention to Logic, and among those of the 
 Mathematics to Geometrical Analysis and Algebra, three 
 Arts or Sciences which ought, as I conceived, to contribute 
 something to my design. But, on examination, I found that, as 
 forj Logic, its syllogisms and the majority of its other precepts 
 are of avail rather in the communication of what we already 
 know, or even as the Art of Lully, in speaking without judgment 
 of things of which we are ignorant, than in the investigation 
 of the unknown^ and although this Science contains indeed a 
 number of correct and very excellent precepts, there are, never- 
 theless, so many others, and these either injurious or superfluous, 
 mingled with the former, that it is almost quite as difficult to 
 
DISCOURSE ON METHOD 113 
 
 effect a severance of the true from the false as it is to extract 
 a Diana or a Minerva from a rough block of marble. Then as 
 to the^ Analysis of the ancients and the Algebra of the moderns, 
 besides that they embrace only matters highly abstract, and, to 
 appearance, of no use, the former is so exclusively restricted to 
 the consideration of figures, that it can exercise the Understand- 
 ing only on condition of greatly fatiguing the Imagination; * 
 and, in the latter, there is so complete a subjection to certain 
 rules and formulas, that there results an art full of confusion 
 and obscurity calculated to embarrass, instead of a science fitted 
 to cultivate the mind/ By these considerations I was induced 
 to seek some other Method which would comprise the advan- 
 tages of the three ancTT>eexempt from their defects. And as a^ 
 multitude of laws often only hampers justice, so that a state is 
 best governed when7 with few laws, these are rigidlyadminis- 
 tered; ifTlike manner, instead of the greai^number of precepts 
 of which Logic is composed, I believed that the four following 
 would prove perfectly sufficient for me, provided I took the firm 
 and unwavering resolution never in a single instance to fail in 
 observing them. 
 
 The first was never to accept anything for true which I did 
 not clearly know to frf snrh ; that is to say, carefully to avoid 
 precipitancy and prejudice, and to comprise nothing more in 
 my judgment than what was presented to my mind so clearly 
 and distinctly as to exclude all ground of doubt. 
 
 The second, to divide each of the difficulties under examination 
 into as many parts as possible, and as might be necessary for its 
 ^adequate solution. 
 
 The third, to conduct my thoughts in such order that, by 
 commencing with objectslEe simplest and easiestjx^ know, 1 
 might ascend byTittle ancTTittle, and, asit were, step by step^ 
 to the knowledge of the more complex; assigning in thought a 
 certain order even to those objects which in their own nature 
 do not stand in a relationTof antecedence and sequence. 
 
 And the last, in everv case to make enumerations so complete, 
 
 1 The imagination mus< e be taken as equivalent simply to the repre- 
 sentative faculty. 
 
ii 4 DESCARTES 
 
 and reviews so general, that I might be assured that nothing 
 jwasj)mitted. - 
 
 The long chains of simple and easy reasonings by means of 
 which geometers are accustomed to reach the conclusions of 
 their most difficult demonstrations, had led me to imagine that 
 all things, to the knowledge of which man is competent, are 
 mutually connected in the same way, and that there is nothing 
 so far removed from us as to be beyond our reach, or so hidden 
 that we cannot discover it, provided only we abstain from 
 accepting the false for the true, and always preserve in our 
 thoughts the order necessary for the deduction of one truth from 
 another. And I had little difficulty in determining the objects 
 with which it was necessary to commence, for I was already per- 
 suaded that it must be with the simplest and easiest to know, 
 and, considering that of all those who have hitherto sought truth 
 in the sciences, the mathematicians alone have been able to 
 find any demonstrations, that is, any certain and evident rea- 
 sons, I did not doubt but that such must have been the rule of 
 their investigations. I resolved to commence, therefore, with the 
 examination of the simplest objects, not anticipating, however, 
 from this any other advantage than that to be found in accus- 
 toming my mind to the love and nourishment of truth, and to 
 a distaste for all such reasonings as were unsound. But I had 
 no intention on that account of attempting to master all the 
 particular Sciences commonly denominated Mathematics: but 
 observing that, however different their objects, they all agree in 
 considering only the various relations or proportions subsisting 
 among those objects, I thought it best for my purpose to con- 
 sider these proportions in the most general form possible, with- 
 out referring them to any objects in particular, except such as 
 would most facilitate the knowledge of them, and without by 
 any means restricting them to these, that afterwards I might 
 thus be the better able to apply them to every other class of 
 objects to which they are legitimately applicable. Perceiving 
 further, that in order to understand these relations I should 
 sometimes have to consider them one by one, and sometimes 
 only to bear them in mind, or embrace them in the aggregate, 
 
DISCOURSE ON METHOD 115 
 
 I thought that, in order the better to consider them individually, 
 I should view them as subsisting between straight lines, than 
 which I could find no objects more simple, or capable of being 
 more distinctly represented to my imagination and senses; and 
 on the other hand, that in order to retain them in the memory, 
 or embrace an aggregate of many, I should express them by 
 certain characters the briefest possible. In this way I believed 
 that I could borrow all that was best both in Geometrical An- 
 alysis and in Algebra, and correct all the defects of the one 
 by help of the other. 
 
 And, in point of fact, the accurate observance of these few 
 precepts gave me, I take the liberty of saying, such ease in 
 unravelling all the questions embraced in these two sciences, 
 that in the two or three months I devoted to their examination, 
 not only did I reach solutions of questions I had formerly deemed 
 exceedingly difficult, but even as regards questions of the solu- 
 tion of which I continued ignorant, I was enabled, as it appeared 
 to me, to determine the means whereby, and the extent to which, 
 a solution was possible; results attributable to the circumstance 
 that I commenced with the simplest and most general truths, 
 and that thus each truth discovered was a rule available in the 
 discovery of subsequent ones. Nor in this perhaps shall I appear 
 too vain, if it be considered that, as the truth on any particular 
 point is one, whoever apprehends the truth, knows all that on 
 that point can be known. The child, for example, who has been 
 instructed in the elements of Arithmetic, and has made a par- 
 ticular addition, according to rule, may be assured that he has 
 found, with respect to the sum of the numbers before him, all 
 that in this instance is within the reach of human genius. Now, 
 in conclusion, the Method which teaches adherence to the true 
 order, and an exact enumeration of all the conditions of the 
 thing sought includes all that gives certitude to the rules of 
 Arithmetic. 
 
 But the chief ground of my satisfaction with this Method, 
 was the assurance I had of thereby exercising my reason in all 
 matters, if not with absolute perfection, at least with the greatest 
 attainable by me: besides, I was conscious that by its use my 
 
ii6 DESCARTES 
 
 mind was becoming gradually habituated to clearer and more 
 distinct conceptions of its objects; and I hoped also, from not 
 having restricted this Method to any particular matter, to apply 
 it to the difficulties of the other Sciences, with not less success 
 than to those of Algebra. I should not, however, on this account 
 have ventured at once on the examination of all the difficulties 
 of the Sciences which presented themselves to me, for this would 
 have been contrary to the order prescribed in the Method, but 
 observing that the knowledge of such is dependent on principles 
 borrowed from Philosophy, in w r hich I found nothing certain, 
 I thought it necessary first of all to endeavour to establish its 
 principles. And because I observed, besides, that an inquiry 
 of this kind was of all others of the greatest moment, and one 
 in which precipitancy and anticipation in judgment were most 
 to be dreaded, I thought that I ought not to approach it till I 
 had reached a more mature age, (being at that time but twenty- 
 three), and had first of all employed much of my time in pre- 
 paration for the work, as well by eradicating from my mind all 
 the erroneous opinions I had up to that moment accepted, as by 
 amassing variety of experience to afford materials for my rea- 
 sonings, and by continually exercising myself in my chosen 
 Method with a view to increased skill in its application. 
 
MEDITATIONS 117 
 
 MEDITATIONS 
 
 ON 
 THE FIRST PHILOSOPHY 
 
 Translated from the Latin * and collated with the French by 
 JOHN VEITCH 
 
 MEDITATION I 
 OF THE THINGS OF WHICH WE MAY DOUBT 
 
 SEVERAL years have now elapsed since I first became aware that 
 I had accepted, even from my youth, many false opinions for 
 true, and that consequently what I afterwards based on such 
 principles was highly doubtful; and from that time I was con- 
 vinced of the necessity of undertaking once in my life to rid 
 myself of all the opinions T had adopted, and of commencing 
 angwJbe work. of hnilding frorcLlhe. foundation, if I desired tc^ 
 establish a firm and abiding superstructure in the sciences. But 
 as this enterprise appeared to me to be one oi great magnitude, 
 I waited until I had attained an age so mature as to leave me 
 no hope that at any stage of life more advanced I should be 
 better able to execute my design. On this account, I have delayed 
 so long that I should henceforth consider I was doing wrong 
 were I still to consume in deliberation any of the time that now 
 remains for action. To-day, then, since I have opportunely 
 freed iQ^jniiidJrQSLalLcMe^ [and am happily disturbed-bjLno 
 passions], and since I am in the secure pnsspssinn of leisure in 
 a peaceable retirement, I_will at length apply myself earnestly 
 jmd freely to the general overthrow of all my former opinions. 
 But, to this end, it will not be necessary for me to show that 
 the whole of these are false a point, perhaps, which I shall 
 never reach; but as even now my reason convinces me that I 
 
 * From the Meditationes de prima philosophic,, Paris, 1641. Fr. par le Due 
 de Luynes, Paris, 1647. (Corrected by Descartes.) The English translation was 
 made from the Latin or original text, but has also the additions of the French 
 version here given in brackets. It appeared in 1853 and reached the thirteenth 
 edition in 1902. 
 
n8 DESCARTES 
 
 ought not the less carefully to withhold belief from what is not 
 entirely certain and indubitable, than from what is manifestly 
 false, it will be sufficient to justify the rejection of the whole if 
 I shall find in each some ground for doubt. Nor for this purpose 
 will it be necessary even to deal with each belief individually, 
 which would be truly an endless labour; but, as the removal 
 from below of the foundation necessarily involves the downfall 
 of the whole edifice, I will at once approach the criticism of the 
 principles on which all my former beliefs rested. 
 
 All that I have, up to this moment, accepted as possessed of 
 the highest truth and certainty, I received either from or through 
 the senses^ I observed, however, that these sometimes misled 
 us^ and it is the part of prudencejiot to place absolute confidence 
 in that by which we have even once beenjieceiyed. 
 
 But it may be said, perhaps, that, although the senses occa- 
 sionally mislead usjrespecting minute objects, and such as are 
 so far removed from us as to be beyond the reach of close obser- 
 vation, there are yet many other_fl f thpir infprrnptions (presenta- 
 tions), pfjhelruth of whichit is manifestly impossible to doubt ; 
 as for example, that I am in this place, seated by the fire, clothed 
 in a winter dressing-gown, that I hold in my hands this piece 
 of paper, with other intimations of the same nature. But how 
 could I deny that I possess these hands and this body, and 
 withal escape being classed with persons in a state of insanity, 
 whose brains are so disordered and clouded by dark bilious 
 vapours as to cause them pertinaciously to assert that they are 
 monarchs when they are in the greatest poverty ; or clothed in 
 [gold and] purple when destitute of any covering ; or that their 
 head is made of clay, their body of glass, or that they are gourds ? 
 I should certainly be not less insane than they, were I to regulate 
 my procedure according to examples so extravagant. 
 
 Though this be true, I must nevertheless here consider that 
 I am a man, and that, consequently, I am in the habit of sleeping, 
 and representing to myself in dreams those same things, or even 
 sometimes others less probable, which the insane think are pre- 
 sented to them in their waking moments. How often have I 
 dreamt that I was in these familiar circumstances, that I was 
 
MEDITATIONS 119 
 
 dressed, and occupied this place by the fire, when I was lying 
 undressed in bed ? At the present moment, however, I certainly 
 look upon this paper with eyes wide awake; the head which I 
 now move is not asleep; I extend this hand consciously and with 
 express purpose, and I perceive it; the occurrences in sleep are 
 not so distinct as all this. But I cannot forget that, at other times, 
 I have been deceived in sleep by similar illusions; and, atten- 
 tively considering those cases, I perceive so clearly that there 
 exist no certain marks by which the state of waking can ever be 
 distinguished from sleep, that I feel greatly astonished; and in 
 amazement I almost persuade myself that I am now dreaming. 
 
 Let us suppose, then, that we are dreaming, and that all these 
 particulars namely, the opening of the eyes, the motion of 
 the head, the forth-putting of the hands are merely illusions; 
 and even that we really possess neither an entire body nor hands 
 such as we see. Nevertheless, it must be admitted at least that 
 the objects which appear to us in sleep are, as it were, painted 
 representations which could not have been formed unless in the 
 likeness of realities; and, therefore, that those general objects, 
 at all events, namely, eyes, a head, hands, and an entire 
 body are not simply imaginary, but really existent. For, in 
 truth, painters themselves, even when they study to represent 
 sirens and satyrs by forms the most fantastic and extraordinary, 
 cannot bestow upon them natures absolutely new, but can only 
 make a certain medley of the members of different animals; or 
 if they chance to imagine something so novel that nothing at all 
 similar has ever been seen before, and such as is, therefore, purely 
 fictitious and absolutely false, it is at least certain that the 
 colours of which this is composed are real. 
 
 And^on the same prinrjplp flUVirmgfr fh nr>n g n n n rn1 
 viz. [a body], eyes, a head, hands, and the like, 
 we are nevertheless absolutely necessitated to admit the reality 
 at least of some~other objects still more simple and universal than 
 these, of which, just as of certain rffl] fnlnnrs, all 
 
 ofjhingSjjwhether true and real, or false and fantastic, that are 
 found in our consciousness 
 
 us cFassof objects seem to belong corporeal nature in 
 
120 DESCARTES 
 
 general andJts ^extension; the figure of extended things, their 
 quantity or magnitude, and their number, as also the place in, 
 and the time during, which they exist, and other things of the 
 same sort. We will not, therefore, perhaps reason illegitimately 
 if we conclude from this that Physics, Astronomy, Medicine, and 
 all the other sciences that have for their end the consideration 
 of composite objects, are indeed of a doubtful character; but that 
 Arithmetic, Geometry, and the other sciences of the same class, 
 which regard merely the simplest and most general objects, 
 and scarcely inquire whether or not these are really existent, 
 contain somewhat that is certain and indubitable: for whether 
 I am awake or dreaming, it remains true that two and three 
 make five, and that a square has but four sides; nor does it seem 
 possible that truths so apparent can ever fall under a suspicion 
 of falsity [or incertitude]. 
 
 Nevertheless, the belief that there is a God who is all-powerful, 
 and who created meTsucTTas I am, has, tor a long time, obtained 
 steady possession of my mind. How, then, do I know that he 
 has not arranged that there should be neither earth, nor sky, 
 nor any extended thing, nor figure, nor magnitude, nor place, 
 providing at the same time, however, for [the rise in me of the 
 perceptions of all these objects, and] the persuasion that these 
 do not exist otherwise than as I perceive them ? And further, as 
 I sometimes think that others are in error respecting matters of 
 which they believe themselves to possess a perfect knowledge, 
 how do I know that I am not also deceived each time I add 
 together two and three, or number the sides of a square, or form 
 some judgment still more simple, if more simple indeed can be 
 imagined? But perhaps Deity has not been willing that I should 
 be thus deceived, for He is said to be supremely good. If, how- 
 ever, it were repugnant to the goodness of Deity to have created 
 me subject to constant deception, it would seem likewise to be 
 contrary to his goodness to allow me to be occasionally deceived ; 
 and yet it is clear that this is permitted. Some, indeed, might 
 perhaps be found who would be disposed rather to deny the 
 existence of a Being so powerful than to believe that there is no- 
 thing certain. But let us for the present refrain from opposing 
 
MEDITATIONS 121 
 
 this opinion, andjgant that all which is here said of a Deity is 
 fabulous : nevertheless, in whatever way it be supposed that I 
 reached the state in which I exist, whether by fate, or chance, or 
 by an endless series of antecedents and consequents, or by any 
 other means, it Is clear (since to be deceived and to err is a cer- 
 tain defect) that the probability of my being so imperfect as to 
 be the constant victim of deception, will be increased exactly in 
 proportion as the power possessed by the cause, to which they 
 assign my origin, is lessened. To these reasonings I have assur- 
 edly nothing to reply, but am constrained at last to avow that 
 
 J-flfTP J g "raking nf flU that T fnrmprly ]^1i'n V nr| f" T trif "f wlll'f fr- 
 
 it is impossible to doubt, and that not through thoughtlessness or 
 levity, but from cogent and maturely considered reasons; so that 
 henceforward, if I desire to discover anything certain, I ought_ 
 not the less carefully to refrain from assenting to those same 
 opinions than to what might be shown to be manifestly false. 
 But it is not sufficient to have made these observations; care 
 must be taken likewise to keep them in remembrance. For 
 
 mstnmflry opinion g . pprpptn ally rpr^r long and 
 
 familiar usage giving them the right of occupying my mind, 
 even almost against my will, and subduing my belief; nor will 
 I lose the habit of deferring to them and confiding in them so 
 long as I shall consider them to be what in truth they are, viz., 
 opinions to some extent doubtful, as I have already shown, but 
 still highly probable, and such as it is much more reasonable 
 to believe than deny. It is for this reason I am persuaded that 
 I shall not be doing wrong, if, taking an opposite judgment of 
 deliberate design, I become my own deceiver, by supposing, for 
 a time, that all those opinions are entirely false and imaginary, 
 until at length, having thus balanced my old by my new preju- 
 dices, my judgment shalTno longer be turned aside by perverted 
 usage from the path that may conduct to the perception of truth. 
 For I am assured that, meanwhile, there will arise neither peril 
 nor error from this course, and that I cannot for the present 
 yield too much to distrust, since the end I now seek is not action. 
 but knowledge. 
 I will suppose, then, not that Deity, who is sovereignly good 
 
122 DESCARTES 
 
 and the fountain of truth, but that some malignant demon, 
 who is at once exceedingly potent and deceitful, has emplovpH 
 all his artifice to deceive me ; Ijvill suppose that the sky, the air, 
 the earth, colours, figures, sounds, and all external things, are 
 nothing better than the illusions of dreams, by means of which 
 this being has laid snares for my credulity; I will consider my- 
 self as without hands, eyes, flesh, blood, or any of the senses, 
 and as falsely believing that I am possessed of these; I will con- 
 tinue resolutely fixed in this belief, and if indeed by this means 
 it be not in my power to arrive at the knowledge of truth, I shall 
 at least do what is in my power, viz., [suspend my judgment], 
 and guard with settled purpose against giving my assent to what 
 is false, and being imposed upon by this deceiver, whatever be 
 his power and artifice. 
 
 But this undertaking is arduous, and a certain indolence 
 insensibly leads me back to my ordinary course of life; and just 
 as the captive, who, perchance, was enjoying in his dreams 
 an imaginary liberty, when he begins to suspect that it is but 
 a vision, dreads awakening, and conspires with the agreeable 
 illusions that the deception may be prolonged; so I, of my own 
 accord, fall back into the train of my former beliefs, and fear to 
 arouse myself from my slumber, lest the time of laborious wake- 
 fulness that would succeed this quiet rest, in place of bringing 
 any light of day, should prove inadequate to dispel the darkness 
 that will arise from the difficulties that have now been raised. 
 
 MEDITATION II 
 
 OF THE NATURE OF THE HUMAN MIND; AND 
 
 THAT IT IS MORE EASILY KNOWN 
 
 THAN THE BODY 
 
 The Meditation of yesterday has filled my mind ^ so many 
 
 doubts, that it is no longer in my power to forget n. Nor 
 
 do I see, meanwhile, any principle on which they can ^solved ; 
 
 and, just as if I had fallen all of a sudden into very > water, 
 
 I am so greatly disconcerted as to be unable either ant my 
 
MEDITATIONS 123 
 
 feet firmly on the bottom or sustain myself by swimming on the 
 surface. I will, nevertheless, make an effort, and try anew the 
 same path on which I had entered yesterday, that is, proceed 
 by casting aside all that admits of the slightest doubt, not less 
 than if I had discovered it to be absolutely false; and I will 
 continue always in this track until I shall find something that is 
 certain, or at least, if I can do nothing more, until I shall know 
 with certainty that there is nothing certain. Archimedes, that he 
 might transport the entire globe from the place it occupied to 
 another, demanded only a point that was firm and immoveable; 
 so also, I shall be entitled to entertain the highest expectations, 
 if I am fortunate enough to discover only one thing that is certain 
 and indubitable. ~ 
 
 I suppose, accordingly, that all the things which I see are 
 false (fictitious) ; I believe that none of those objects which my 
 fallacious memory represents ever existed; I suppose that I 
 possess no senses; I believe that body, figure, extension, motion, 
 and place are merely fictions of my mind. What is there, then, 
 that can be esteemed true ? Perhaps this only, that there is Ab- 
 solutely nothing certain. _ 
 
 But how do I know that there is not something different alto- 
 gether from the objects I have now enumerated, of which it is 
 impossible to entertain the slightest doubt ? Is there not a God, 
 or some being, by whatever name I may designate him, who 
 causes these thoughts to arise in my mind? But why suppose 
 such a being, for it may be I myself am capable of producing 
 them? Am I, then, at least not something? But I before denied 
 that I possessed senses or a body; I hesitate, however, for what 
 follows from that? Am I so dependent on the body and the 
 senses that without these I cannot exist? But I had the per- 
 suasion that there was absolutely nothing in the world, that there 
 was no sky and no earth, neither minds nor bodies; was I not, 
 therefore, at the same time, persuaded that I did not exist ? Far 
 from it; I assuredly__existed. since I_was_persuaded. But there is 
 I kn6wiibTwhat being, who is possessed at once of the high- 
 est power and the deepest cunning, who is constantly employing 
 all his ingenuity Jnjlecejying me. Doubtless, then T I exist, since 
 
124 DESCARTES 
 
 ]_am deceived; and, let him deceive me as he may, he can never 
 bring it about that I am nothing, so long as I shall be conscious 
 that I am something. So that it must, in fine, be maintained, all 
 things being maturely and rarpftilty rpnsiffcrpH, that this propo- 
 sition (pronunciatum) I am, I exisl^Js-Qecessarily tr " p ea^h t 1>rnp 
 it jg_5rgsspH ty rjp, or rnnreived in my_mind. 
 
 But I do not yet know with sufficient clearness wjiaLl am. 
 though assured that I am; and hence, in the next place, I must 
 take care, lest perchance I inconsiderately substitute some other 
 object in room of what is properly myself, and thus wander from 
 truth, even in that knowledge (cognition) which I hold to be 
 of all others the most certain and evident. For this reason, I 
 will now consider anew what I formerly believed myself to be, 
 before I entered on the present train of thought; and of my pre- 
 vious opinion I will retrench all that can in the least be invali- 
 dated by the grounds of doubt I have adduced, in order that 
 there may at length remain nothing but what is certain and 
 indubitable. What then did I formerly think I was? Undoubt- 
 edly I judged that I was a man. But what is a man? Shall I 
 say a rational animal? Assuredly not; for it would be necessary 
 forthwith to inquire into what is meant by animal, and what by 
 rational, and thus, from a single question, I should insensibly 
 glide into others, and these more difficult than the first; nor do 
 I now possess enough of leisure to warrant me in wasting my 
 time amid subtleties of this sort. I prefer here to attend to the 
 thoughts that sprung up of themselves in my mind, and were 
 inspired by my own nature alone, when I applied myself to the 
 consideration of what I was. In the first place, then, I thought 
 that I possessed a countenance, hands, arms, and all the fabric 
 (of members that appears in a corpse, and which I called by the 
 name of body. It further occurred to me that I was nourished, 
 that I walked, perceived, and thought, and all those actions I 
 referred to the soul; but what the soul itself was I either did 
 not stay to consider, or, if I did, I imagined that it was something 
 extremely rare and subtile, like wind, or flame, or ether, spread 
 through my grosser parts. As regarded the body, I did not even 
 doubt of its nature, but thought I distinctly knew it, and if I had 
 

 MEDITATIONS 125 
 
 wished to describe it according to the notions I then entertained, 
 I should have explained myself in this manner : By body I under 
 stand all that can be terminated by a certain figure; that can 
 be comprised in a certain place, and so fill a certain space as 
 therefrom to exclude every other body; that can be perceivec 
 either by touch, sight, hearing, taste, or smell; that can be moved 
 in different ways, not indeed of itself, but by something foreigr? 
 to it by which it is touched [and from which it receives the impres- 
 sion]; for the power of self-motion, as likewise that of perceiving 
 and thinking, I held as by no means pertaining to the nature of 
 body; on the contrary, I was somewhat astonished to find such 
 faculties existing in some bodies. 
 
 But [as to myself, what can I now say that I am], since I sup- 
 pose there exists an extremely powerful, and, if I may so speak, 
 malignant being, whose whole endeavours are directed towards 
 deceiving me ? Can I affirm that I possess any one of all those 
 attributes of which I have lately spoken as belonging to the 
 nature of body ? After attentively considering them in my own 
 mind, I find none of them that can properly be said to belong 
 to myself. To recount them were idle and tedious. Let us pass, 
 then, to the attributes of the soul. The first mentioned were the 
 powers of nutrition and walking; but, if it be true that I have 
 no body, it is true likewise that I am capable neither of walking 
 nor of being nourished. Perception is another attribute of the 
 soul ; but perception too is impossible without the body : besides, 
 I have frequently, during sleep, believed that I perceived objects 
 which I afterwards observed I did not in reality perceive. Thiiik- 
 ing.is,-an.other_attribute-of- -the .-soul; and here I discover, what 
 properly belongs to-rnyself. This alone is inseparable from me. 
 I am I exist: this is certain; but how often? As often as I 
 think; for perhaps it would even happen, if I should wholly cease 
 to think, that I should at the same time altogether cease to be. 
 I now admit nothing that is not necessarily true: I am therefore, 
 precisely speaking, only a thinking thing, that is, a mind (mens 
 sive animus)^ understanding, or reason, terms whose signifi- 
 cation was before unknown to me. I am, howeYer,_ajaLthing, 
 and really emtentf4)uLwha.t thing.? The answer was, a thinking 
 
i 2 6 DESCARTES 
 
 thing. The question now arises, am I aught besides? I will 
 stimulate my imagination with a view to discover whether I am 
 not still something more than a thinking being. Now it is plain 
 I am not the assemblage of members called the human body; 
 I am not a thin and penetrating air diffused through all these 
 members, or wind, or flame, or vapour, or breath, or any of all 
 the things I can imagine ; for I supposed that all these were not, 
 and, without changing the supposition, I find that I still feel 
 assured of my existence. 
 
 But it is true, perhaps, that those very things which I suppose 
 to be non-existent, because they are unknown to me, are not 
 in truth different from myself whom I know. This is a point I 
 cannot determine, and do not now enter into any dispute regard- 
 ing it. Lean only judge, of things that arp knr>wrL tn me: I am 
 
 conscious that I exist, and I who know that I exist inquire into 
 what I am. It is, however, perfectly certain that the know- 
 ledge of my existence, thus precisely taken, is nojLdeppqdent 
 onlhings, the existence of which is as yet unknown to me : and 
 consequently it is not dependent on any of the things I can feign 
 in imagination. Moreover, the phrase itself, I frame an image 
 (effingo), reminds me of my error; for I should in truth frame 
 one if I were to imagine myself to be anything, since to imagine 
 is nothing more than to contemplate the figure or image of a 
 corporeal thing; but I already know that I exist, and that it is 
 possible at the same time that all those images, and in general 
 all that relates to the nature of body, are merely dreams [or 
 chimeras]. From this I discover that it is not more reasonable 
 to say, I will excite my imagination that I may know more dis- 
 tinctly what I am, than to express myself as follows: I am now 
 awake, and perceive something real; but because my perception 
 is not sufficiently clear, I will of express purpose go to sleep that 
 my dreams may represent to me the object of my perception 
 with more truth and clearness. And, therefore, I know that 
 nothing of all that I can embrace in imagination belongs to the 
 knowledge which I have of myself, and that there is need to 
 recall with the utmost care the mind from this mode of thinking, 
 that it may be able to know its own nature with perfect dis- 
 tinctness. 
 
MEDITATIONS 127 
 
 But what, then, am I? A thinking thing, it has been said 
 But what is a thinking thing? It is a thing that doubts, under- 
 stands, [conceives], affirms, denies, wills, refuses, that imagines 
 also, and perceives. Assuredly it is not little, if all these pro- 
 perties belong to my nature. But why should they not belong 
 to it? Am I not that very being who now doubts of almost 
 everything; who, for all that, understands and conceives certain 
 things; who affirms one alone as true, and denies the others; who 
 desires to know more of them, and does not wish to be deceived ; 
 who imagines many things, sometimes even despite his will; 
 and is likewise percipient of many, as if through the medium of 
 the senses. Is there nothing of all this as true as that I am, 
 even although I should be always dreaming, and although he 
 who gave me being employed all his ingenuity to deceive me? 
 Is there also any one of these attributes that can be properly 
 distinguished from my thought, or that can be said to be separate 
 from myself ? For it is of itself so evident that it is I who doubt, 
 I who understand, and I who desire, that it is here unnecessary 
 to add anything by way of rendering it more clear. And I am 
 as certainly the same being who imagines; for, although it may 
 be (as I before supposed) that nothing I imagine is true, still the 
 power of imagination does not cease really to exist in me and to 
 form part of my thought. In fing^AmJ^same. beingjadiQ, per- 
 ceives, thaUs, whQ._apprehends ^certain objets_asJDyih organs of 
 sene^since^.in_ truth, I see light, hear a noise, and feel heat. But 
 it will be said that these presentations are false, and that I am 
 dreaming. Let it be so. At all events it is certain that I seem to 
 see light, hear a noise, and feel heat; this cannot be false, anc 
 this is what in me is properly called perceiving (sentire), which is 
 nothing else than thinking. From this I begin to know what ] 
 am with somewhat greater clearness and distinctness than here- 
 tofore. 
 
 But, nevertheless, it still seems to me, and I cannot help 
 believing, that corporeal things, whose images are formed by 
 thought, [which fall under the senses], and are examined by the 
 same, are known with much greater distinctness than that I 
 know not what part of myself which is not imaginable; although. 
 
I 2 8 DESCARTES 
 
 in truth, it may seem strange to say that I know and comprehend 
 with greater distinctness things whose existence appears to me 
 doubtful, that are unknown, and do not belong to me, than others 
 of whose reality I am persuaded, that are known to me, and ap- 
 pertain to my proper nature; in a word, than myself. But I see 
 clearly what is the state of the case. My mind is apt to wander, 
 and will not yet submit to be restrained within the limits of truth. 
 Let us therefore leave the mind to itself once more, and, according 
 to it every kind of liberty, [permit it to consider the objects that 
 appear to it from without], in order that, having afterwards 
 withdrawn it from these gently and opportunely, [and fixed it 
 on the consideration of its being and the properties it finds in 
 itself], it may then be the more easily controlled. 
 
 Let us now accordingly consider the objects that are com- 
 monly thought to be [the most easily, and likewise] the most dis- 
 tinctly known, viz., the bodies we touch and see; not, indeed, 
 bodies in general, for these general notions are usually somewhat 
 more confused, but one body in particular. Take, for example, 
 this piece of wax; it is quite fresh, having been but recently 
 taken from the beehive; it has not yet lost the sweetness of the 
 honey it contained; it still retains somewhat of the odour of the 
 flowers from which it was gathered; its colour, figure, size, are 
 apparent (to the sight); it is hard, cold, easily handled; and 
 sounds when struck upon with the finger. In fine, all that con- 
 tributes to make a body as distinctly known as possible, is found 
 in the one before us. But, while I am speaking, let it be placed 
 near the fire what remained of the taste exhales, the smell 
 evaporates, the colour changes, its figure is destroyed, its size in- 
 creases, it becomes liquid, it grows hot, it can hardly be handled, 
 and, although struck upon, it emits no sound. Does the same 
 wax still remain after this change? It must be admitted that 
 it does remain; no one doubts it, or judges otherwise. What, 
 then, was it I knew with so much distinctness in the piece of 
 wax? Assuredly, it could be nothing of all that I observed by 
 means of the senses, since all the things that fell under taste, 
 smell, sight, touch, and hearing are changed, and yet the same 
 wax remains. It was perhaps what I now think, viz., that this wr,x 
 
MEDITATIONS 129 
 
 was neither the sweetness of honey, the pleasant odour of flowers, 
 the whiteness, the figure, nor the sound, but only a body that 
 a little before appeared to me conspicuous under these forms, 
 and which is now perceived under others. But, to speak pre- 
 cisely, what is it that I imagine when I think of it in this way ? 
 Let it be attentively considered, and, retrenching all that does 
 not belong to the wax, let us see what remains. There cer- 
 tainly remains nothing, except something extended, flexible, and 
 moveable. But what is meant by flexible and moveable ? Is it not 
 that I imagine that the piece of wax, being round, is capable of 
 becoming square, or of passing from a square into a triangular 
 figure ? Assuredly such is not the case, because I conceive that 
 it admits of an infinity of similar changes ; and I am, moreover, 
 unable to compass this infinity by imagination, and consequently 
 this conception which I have of the wax is not the product of 
 the faculty of imagination. But what now is this extension ? Is 
 it not also unknown ? for it becomes greater when the wax is 
 melted, greater when it is boiled, and greater still when the heat 
 increases; and I should not conceive [clearly and] according to 
 truth, the wax as it is, if I did not suppose that the piece we are 
 considering admitted even of a wider variety of extension than 
 I ever imagined. I must, therefore, admit that I cannot even 
 comprehend by imagination what the piece of w r ax is, and that 
 it is the mind alone (mens, Lat., entendement, F.) which per- 
 ceives it. I speak of one piece in particular; for, as to wax in 
 general, this is still more evident. But what is the piece of wax 
 that can be perceived only by the [understanding or] mind ? It is 
 certainly the same which I see, touch, imagine ; and, in fine, it is 
 the same which, from the beginning, I believed it to be. But 
 (and this it is of moment to observe) the perception, of .it is 
 neither an act of sight, of touch, nor of magination, and never 
 was either of these, though it might formerly seem so, but is 
 simply an intuition, (ins pectio] of the mind, which may be imper- 
 fect and confused, as it formerly was, or very clear and distinct, 
 as it is at present, according as the attention is more or less 
 directed to the elements which it contains, and of which it is 
 composed. 
 
I 3 o DESCARTES 
 
 But, meanwhile, I feel greatly astonished when I observe [the 
 weakness of my mind, and] its proneness to error. For although, 
 without at all giving expression to what I think, I consider all 
 this in my own mind, words yet occasionally impede my progress, 
 and I am almost led into error by the terms of ordinary language. 
 We say, for example, that we see the same wax when it is before 
 us, and not that we judge it to be the same from its retaining the 
 same colour and figure : whence I should forthwith be disposed to 
 conclude that the wax is known by the act of sight, and not by 
 the intuition of the mind alone, were it not for the analogous 
 instance of human beings passing on in the street below, as ob- 
 served from a window. In this case I do not fail to say that I see 
 the men themselves, just as I say that I see the wax; and yet what 
 do I see from the window beyond hats and cloaks that might 
 cover artificial machines, whose motions might be determined 
 by springs? EjutJJudgg that there gre. human beings^ from these 
 appearances, and tims J comprehend, byiJiie faculty of judg- 
 mejit. alone which JsJrj t.he-jnind, ^diaLLkelieved T aawjadtk m 7 
 
 The man who makes it his aim to rise to knowledge superior 
 to the common, ough.t to be ashamed to seek occasions of doubt- 
 ing from the vulgar forms of speech : instead, therefore, of doing 
 this, I shall proceed with the matter in hand, and inquire whether 
 I had a clearer and more perfect perception of the piece of wax 
 when I first saw it, and when I thought I knew it by means of 
 the external sense itself, or, at all events; by the common sense 
 (sensus communis), as it is called, that is, by the imaginative fac- 
 ulty; or whether I rather apprenend it more clearly at present, 
 after having examined with greater care, both what it is, and in 
 what way it can be known. It would certainly be ridiculous to 
 entertain any doubt on this point. For what, in that first percep- 
 tion, was there distinct ? What did I perceive which any animal 
 might not have perceived ? But when I distinguish the wax from 
 its exterior forms, and when, as if I had stripped it of its vest- 
 ments, I consider it quite naked, it is certain, although some 
 error may still be found in my judgment, that I cannot, never- 
 theless, thus apprehend it without possessing a human mind. 
 
MEDITATIONS 131 
 
 But, finally, what shall I say of the mind itself, that is, of my- 
 self? for as yet I do not admit that I am anything but mind. 
 What, then! I who seem to possess so distinct an apprehension 
 of the piece of wax, do I not know myself, both with greater 
 truth and certitude, and also much more distinctly and clearly? 
 For if I judge that the wax exists because T SPP it, it assuredly 
 follows, much more evidently, that I myself gm or exist, fnrjjip 
 same-xeason : for it is possible that what I see may not in truth be 
 wax, and that I do not even possess eyes with which to see any- 
 thing; but it cannot be that when I see, or, which comes to the 
 same thing, when I think I see, I myself who think am nothing. 
 So likewise, if I judge that the w^y pyidtQ bpr^^se T to^h it, it 
 will still^alsojollowjhat J_am; and if I determine that my imagi- 
 nation, or any other cause, whatever it be, persuades me of the 
 existence of the w r ax, I will still draw the same conclusion. And 
 what is here remarked of the piece of wax, is applicable to all 
 the other things that are external to me. And further, if the 
 [notion or] perception of wax appeared to me more precise and 
 distinct, after that not only sight and touch, but many other 
 causes besides, rendered it manifest to my apprehension, with 
 how much greater distinctness must I now know myself, since 
 all the reasons that contribute to the knowledge of the nature 
 of wax, or of any body whatever, manifest still better the nature 
 of my mind ? And there are besides so many other things in the 
 mind itself that contribute to the illustration of its nature, that 
 those dependent on the body, to which I have liere referred, 
 scarcely merit to be taken into account. 
 
 But, in conclusion, I find I have insensibly reverted to the 
 point I desired; for, jdnce Jt is now manifest to me that bodies 
 themselves are not properly perceived by the senses nor by the 
 faculty of imagination, but by the intellect alone ; and since they 
 are not perceived because they are seen and touched, but only 
 because they are nnrWctnnH [r>r rightly comprehended by 
 thought], I readily discover that there is nothing more easily j)r 
 clearly apprehended than my own mind. But because it is diffi- 
 ^ult to rid one'sself so promptly of an opinion to which one has 
 been long accustomed, it will be desirable to tarry for some time 
 
i 3 2 DESCARTES 
 
 at this stage, that, by long continued meditation, I may more 
 deeply impress upon my memory this new knowledge. 
 
 MEDITATION III 
 OF GOD: THAT HE EXISTS 
 
 I will now close my eyes, I will stop my ears, I will turn away 
 my senses from their objects, I will even efface from my con- 
 sciousness all the images of corporeal things; or at least, because 
 this can hardly be accomplished, I will consider them as empty 
 and false; and thus, holding converse only with myself, and 
 closely examining my nature, I will endeavour to obtain by 
 degrees a more intimate and familiar knowledge of myself. I 
 am a thinking (conscious) thing, that is, a being who doubts, 
 affirms, denies, knows a lew objects, and is ignorant of many, 
 [who loves, hates], wills, refuses, who imagines likewise, and 
 perceives ; for, as I before remarked, although the things which I 
 perceive or imagine are perhaps nothing at all apart from me 
 [and in themselves], I am nevertheless assured that those modes 
 of consciousness which I call perceptions and imaginations, 
 in as far only as they are modes of consciousness, exist in me. 
 And in the little I have said I think I have summed up all that I 
 really know, or at least all that up to this time I was aware I 
 knew. Now, as I am endeavouring to extend my knowledge 
 more widely, J will use circumspection, and consider with care 
 whether I can still discover in myself anything further which I 
 have not yet hitherto observed. I am certain that I am a thinking 
 thing; but do I not therefore likewise know what is required to 
 render me certain of a truth ? In this first knowledge, doubtless, 
 there is nothing that gives me assurance of its truth except the 
 clear and distinct perception of what I affirm, which would not 
 indeed be sufficient to give me the assurance that what I say is 
 true, if it could ever happen that anything I thus clearly and 
 distinctly perceived should prove false; and accordingly it seems 
 to me that I may now take as a general rule^ tkat jjlHhat is very 
 .clearly and distinctly apprehended (conceived) is true. 
 
 Nevertheless I before received and admitted many things as 
 
MEDITATIONS 133 
 
 wholly certain and manifest, which yet I afterwards found to be 
 doubtful. What, then, were those? They were the earth, the 
 sky, the stars, and all the other objects which I was in the habit of 
 perceiving by the senses. But what wa it that I clearly [and 
 distinctly] perceived in them ? Nothing more than that the ideas 
 and the thoughts of those objects were presented to my mind. 
 And even now I do not deny that these ideas are found in my 
 mind. But there was yet another thing which I affirmed, and 
 which, from having been accustomed to believe it, I thought I 
 clearly perceived, although, in truth, I did not perceive it at all; 
 I mean the existence of objects external to me, from which those 
 ideas proceeded, and to which they had a perfect resemblance; 
 and it was here I was mistaken, or if I judged correctly, this 
 assuredly was not to be traced to any knowledge I possessed (the 
 force of my perception, Lat.). 
 
 But when I considered any matter in arithmetic and geometry, 
 that was very simple and_easy, as, for example, that two and 
 three added together make five, and things of this sort, did I 
 not view them with at least sufficient clearness to warrant me 
 in affirming their truth? Indeed, if I afterwards judged that we 
 ought to doubt of these things, it was for no other reason than 
 because it occurred to me that a God might perhaps have given 
 me such a nature as that I should be deceived, even respecting 
 the matters that appeared to me the most evidently true. But 
 as often as this preconceived opinion of the sovereign power of a 
 God presents itself to my mind, I am constrained to admit that 
 it is easy for him, if he wishes it, to cause me to err, even in mat- 
 ters where I think I possess the highest evidence; and, on the 
 other hand, as often as I direct my attention to things which I 
 think I apprehend with great clearness, I am so persuaded of 
 their truth that I naturally break out into expressions such as 
 these: Deceive me who may, no one wjll yet ever be able to bring 
 it about that I am not, so long as I shall be conscious that I am, 
 or at any future time cause it to be true that I have never been, 
 it being now true that I am, or make two and three more or less 
 than five, in supposing which, and other like absurdities, I dis- 
 cover a manifest contradiction. 
 
I 3 4 DESCARTES 
 
 And in truth, as I have no ground for believing that Deity is 
 deceitful, and as, indeed, I have not even considered the reasons 
 by which the existence of a Deity of any kind is established, the 
 ground of doubt that rests only on this supposition is very slight, 
 and, so to speak, metaphysical. But, that I may be able wholly to 
 remove ir/l must inquire whether there is a God, as soon as an 
 opportunify of doing so shall present itself; and if I find that 
 there is a God, I must examine likewise whether he can be a 
 deceiverj .for?without the knowledge of these two truths, I do 
 not see that I can ever be certain of anything. And that I may 
 be enabled to examine this without interrupting the order of 
 meditation I have proposed to myself [which is, to pass by 
 degrees from the notions that I shall find first in my mind to 
 those I shall afterwards discover in it], it is necessary at this 
 stage to divide all my thoughts into certain classes, and to con- 
 sider in which of these classes truth and error are, strictly speak- 
 ing, to be found. 
 
 Of my thoughts some are, as it were, images of things, and 
 to these alone properly belongs the name idea; as when I think 
 [represent to my mind] a man, a chimera,TKe sky, an angel, or 
 God. Others, again, have certain other forms: as when_I will, 
 fear, affirm, or deny, I always, indeed, apprehend something as 
 the object of my thought, jmt I also embrace in thought some- 
 thing more than the representation of the object; and of this 
 class of thoughts some are called volitions or affections, and 
 others judgments. 
 
 Now, with respect to id^as, if these are considered only in 
 themselves, and are not rjgf erred to any object-. beyond them, 
 they^cj^npt^prnperly .speaking, -b&- false; for, whether I imagine 
 a goat or a chimera, it is not less true that I imagine the one 
 than the other. Nor need we fear that falsity may exist in the 
 will or affections; for, although I may desire objects that are 
 wrong, and even that never existed, it is still true that I desire 
 them. There thus only remain our judgments, in which we must 
 take diligent heed that we be not deceived. But the chief and 
 most ordinary error that arises in them consists in judging that 
 the ideas which are in us are like or conformed to the things 
 
MEDITATIONS 135 
 
 that are external to us; for assuredly, ifjwe but considered the 
 ideas themselves as certain modes of our thought (consciousness), 
 without referring them to anything beyond, they would hardly 
 arTordany occasion of error. 
 
 ~T5ut, among the^IHeasT^onie appear to me tqjbe innate, 
 others adventitious, and others to be made by myself (factitious) ; 
 for, as I have the power of conceiving what is called a thing, or a 
 truth, or a thought, it seems to me that I hold this power from no 
 other sourcejhan my own nature; but if I now hear a noise, if I 
 see the sun, or if I feel heat, I have all along judged that these 
 sensations proceeded from certain objects existing out of myself; 
 and, in fine, it appears to me that sirens, hippogryphs, and the 
 like, are inventions of my own mind. But I may even perhaps 
 come to be of opinion that all my ideas are of the class which I 
 call adventitious, or that they are all innate, or that they are all 
 factitious, for I have not yet clearly discovered their true origin ; 
 and what I have here principally to do is to consider, with refer- 
 ence to those that appear to come from certain objects with- 
 out me, what grounds there are for thinking them like these 
 objects. 
 The first_of th.se,K>uBds is4hat i 
 
 by nature; and the ^ondJMtJLam. XQnsciojislhaLihQse ideas 
 are not^pejidejil_WLiny_will, and therefore not on myself, for 
 they are frequently presented to me against my will, as at 
 present, whether I will or not, I feel heat ; and I am thus per- 
 suaded that this sensation or idea (sensum vel id earn) of heat is 
 produced in me by something different from myself, viz., by the 
 heat of the fire by which I sit. And it is very reasonable to sup- 
 pose that this object impresses me with its own likeness rather 
 than any other thing. 
 
 But I must consider whether these reasons are sufficiently 
 strong and convincing. When I speak of being taught by nature, 
 in this matter, I understand by the word nature only a certain 
 spontaneous impetus that impels me to believe in a resemblance 
 between ideas and their objects, and not a natural light thalj 
 affords a knowledge of its truth. But these two things are widely 
 different; for what the natural light shows to be true can be in 
 
136 DESCARTES 
 
 no degree doubtful, as, for example, that I am because I doubt, 
 and other truths of the like kind : inasmuch as I possess no other 
 faculty whereby to distinguish truth from error, which can teach 
 me the falsity of what the natural light declares to be true, and 
 which is equally trustworthy; but with respect to [seemingly] 
 natural impulses, I have observed, when the question related to 
 the choice of right or wrong in action, that they frequently led 
 me to take the worse part; nor do I see that I have any better 
 ground for following them in what relates to truth and error. 
 Then, with respect to the other reason, which is that because 
 these ideas do not depend on my will, they must arise from 
 objects existing without me, I do not find it more convincing 
 than the former; for, just as those natural impulses, of which I 
 have lately spoken, are found in me, notwithstanding that they 
 are not always in harmony with my will, so likewise it may be 
 that I possess some power not sufficientMknown to myself cap- 
 able of producing ideas without the aid of external objects, and, 
 indeed, it has always hitherto appeared to me that they are 
 formed during sleep, by some power of this nature, without the 
 aid of aught external. And, in fine, although I should grant that 
 they proceeded froQ^ojej)b]ects, it is not ja, necessarycpnse- 
 quence that they must be like them. On the contrary, I have 
 observed, in a number of instances, that there was a great differ- 
 ence between the object and its idea. Thus, for example, I find 
 in my mind two wholly diverse ideas of the sun ; the one, by which 
 it appears to me extremely small, draws its origin from the senses, 
 and should be placed in the class of adventitious ideas ; the other, 
 by which it seems to be many times larger than the whole earth, 
 is taken up on astronomical grounds, that is, elicited from certain 
 notions born with me, or is framed by myself in some other man- 
 ner. These two ideas cannot certainly both resemble the same 
 sun; and reason teaches me that the one which seems to have 
 immediately emanated from it is the most unlike. And these 
 things sufficiently prove that hitherto it has not been from a 
 certain and deliberate judgment, but only from a sort of blind 
 impulse, that I believed in the existence of certain things different 
 from myself, which, by the organs of sense, or by whatever other 
 
MEDITATIONS 137 
 
 means it might be, conveyed their ideas or images into my mind 
 [and impressed it with their likenesses]. 
 
 But there is still another way of inquiring whether, of the 
 objects whose ideas are in my mind, there are any that exist out 
 of me. If ideas are taken in so far only as they are certain modes 
 of consciousness, I do not remark any difference or inequality 
 among them, and all seem, in the same manner, to proceed from 
 myself; but, considering them as images, of which one represents 
 one thing and another a different, it is evident that a great diver- 
 sity obtains among them. For, without doubt, those that repre- 
 sent substances are something more, and contain in themselves, 
 so to speak, more objective reality [that is, participate by repre- 
 sentation in higher degrees of being or perfection], than those 
 that represent only modes or accidents; and again, the idea by 
 which I conceive a God [sovereign], eternal, infinite, [immutable], 
 all-knowing, all-powerful, and the creator of all things that are 
 out of himself, this, I say, has certainly in it more objective 
 reality than those ideas by which finite substances are repre- 
 sented. 
 
 Now, it is manifest by the natural light that there must at 
 least be as much reality in the efficient and total cause as in its 
 effect; for whence can the effect draw its reality if not from its 
 cause? and how could the cause communicate to it this reality 
 unless it possessed it in itself? And hpnrg jt jnllnws, nnt r only that 
 what is cannot be produced .by what is not, but likewise, that the 
 more perfect, in other words, that which contains in itself 
 more reality, cannot .be the effect of .tlie^less~perfect : and this 
 is not only evidently true of those effects, whose reality is actual 
 or formal, but likewise of ideas, whose reality-is-only considered 
 as objective. Thus, for example, the stone that is not yet in ex-l 
 istence, not only cannot now commence to be, unless it be pro-\ 
 duced by that which possesses in itself, formally or eminently, 
 all that enters into its composition, [in other words, by that which 
 contains in itself the same properties that are in the stone, or 
 others superior to them]; and heat can only be produced in a sub- 
 ject that was before devoid of it, by a cause that is of an order, 
 [degree or kind], at least as perfect as heat; and so of the others. 
 
138 DESCARTES 
 
 But further, even the idea of the heat, or of the stone, cannot 
 exist in me unless it be put there by a cause that contains, at 
 least, as much reality as I conceive existent in the heat or in the 
 stone: for, although that cause may not transmit into my idea 
 anything of its actual or formal reality, we ought not on this 
 account to imagine that it is less real; but we ought to consider 
 that, [as every idea is a work of the mind], its nature is such as 
 of itself to demand no other formal reality than that which it 
 borrows from our consciousness, of which it is but a mode, [that 
 is, a manner or way of thinking]. But in order that an idea may 
 contain this objective reality rather than that, it must doubtless 
 derive it from some cause in which is found at least as much 
 formal reality as the idea contains of objective; for, if we sup- 
 pose that there is found in an idea anything which was not in 
 its cause, it must of course derive this from nothing. But, how- 
 ever imperfect may be the mode of existence by which a thing is 
 objectively [or by representation] in the understanding by its 
 idea, we certainly cannot, for all that, allege that this mode of 
 existence is nothing, nor, consequently, that the idea owes its 
 origin to nothing. Nor must it be imagined that, since the reality 
 which is considered in these ideas is only objective, the same 
 reality need not be formally (actually) in the causes of these 
 ideas, but only objectively: for, just as the mode of existing 
 objectively belongs to ideas by their peculiar nature, so likewise 
 the mode of existing formally appertains to the causes of these 
 ideas (at least to the first and principal), by their peculiar nature. 
 And although an idea may give rise to another idea, this regress 
 cannot, nevertheless, be infinite; we must in the end reach a 
 first idea, the cause of which is, as it were, the archetype in which / 
 all the reality [or perfection] that is found objectively [or by 
 representation] in these ideas is contained formally [and in act]. 
 [ am thus clearly taught by the natural light that ideas exist in 
 isjDictures or images, whichjnay-JrL.triith readily ialljshort 
 of the perfection ^f_the_objects from which they arejtakefiy but 
 3 neVer_coritfl.in anything greater or more perfect. 
 And in proportion to the time and care with which I examine 
 i those matters, the conviction of their truth brightens and 
 
MEDITATIONS 139 
 
 becomes distinct. But, to sum up, what conclusion shall I draw 
 from it all? It is this; jfj:he objective reality [or perfection! 
 of any one of my ideas be such as clearly to convince me, that 
 Jjiis same reality exists in me neither formally nor eminently 
 jmd if, as follows from this, I myself cannot be the cause of it. 
 jt is a necessary consequence that I am not alone in the world, 
 but thaf there is besides myself some other being who exists as 
 the cause of that idea; while, on the contrary, if no such idea 
 be found in my mind, I shall have no sufficient ground of assur- 
 ance of the existence of any other being besides myself; for, 
 after a most careful search, I have, up to this moment, been 
 unable to discover any other ground. 
 
 But, among these my ideas,^ besides that which represents 
 myself, respecting which there can be here no difficulty, there is 
 one that represents a God; others that represent corporeal and 
 inanimate things; others angels; others animals; and, finally, 
 there are some that represent men like myself. But with respect 
 to the ideas that represent other men, or animals, or angels, I 
 can easily suppose that they were formed by the mingling and 
 composition of the other ideas which I have of myself, of cor- 
 poreal things, and of God, although there were, apart from my- 
 self, neither men, animals, nor angels. And with regard to the 
 ideas of corporeal objects, I never discovered in them anything 
 so great or excellent which I myself did not appear capable of 
 originating; for, by considering these ideas closely and scrutinis- 
 ing them individually, in the same way that I yesterday exam- 
 ined the idea of wax, I find that there is but little in them that 
 is clearly and distinctly perceived. As belonging to the class of 
 things that are clearly apprehended, I recognise the following, 
 viz., magnitude or extension in length, breadth, and depth; 
 figure, which results from the termination of extension; situa- 
 tion, which bodies of diverse figures preserve with reference to 
 each other; and motion or the change of situation; to which 
 may be added substance, duration, and number. But with 
 regard to light, colours, sounds, odours, tastes, heat, cold, and 
 the other tactile qualities, they are thought with so much ob- 
 scurity and confusion, that I cannot determine even whether 
 
i 4 o DESCARTES 
 
 they are true or false ; in other words., whether or not the ideas I 
 have of these qualities are in truth the ideas of real objects. 
 For although I before remarked that it is only in judgments that 
 formal falsity, or falsity properly so called, can be met with, 
 lEere^ may~nevertheiess be tound_jn_JHjas- a >rtain material^ 
 falsity, which arises when they represent what is nothing as if 
 it were something. Thus, for example, the ideas I have of cold 
 and heat are so far from being clear and distinct, that I am un- 
 able from them to discover whether cold is only the privation 
 of heat, or heat the privation of cold; or whether they are or 
 are not real qualities: and since, ideas being as it were images, 
 there can be none that does not seem to us to represent some 
 object, the idea which represents cold as something real and 
 positive will not improperly be called false, if it be correct to say 
 that cold is nothing but a privation of heat; and so in other cases. 
 To ideas of this kind, indeed, it is not necessary that I should 
 assign any author besides myself: for if they are false, that is, 
 represent objects that are unreal, the natural light teaches me 
 that they proceed from nothing; in other words, that they are 
 in me only because something is wanting to the perfection of my 
 nature; but if these ideas are true, yet because they exhibit to 
 me so little reality that I cannot even distinguish the object 
 represented from non-being, I do not see why I should not be 
 the author of them. 
 
 With reference to those ideas of corporeal things that are 
 clear and distinct, there are some which, as appears to me, 
 might have been taken from the idea I have of myself, as those 
 of substance, duration, number, and the like. For when I think 
 that a stone is a substance, or a thing capable of existing of itself, 
 and that I am likewise a substance, although I conceive t I 
 am a thinking and non-extended thing, and that the stc Dn 
 the contrary, is extended and unconscious, there being th le 
 greatest diversity between the two concepts, yet thes r o 
 ideas seem to have this in common that they both rep: it 
 substances. In the same way, when I think of myself as now 
 existing, and recollect besides thaf I existed some time ago, and 
 when I am conscious of various thoughts whose number I know, 
 
MEDITATIONS 141 
 
 I then acquire the ideas of duration and number, which I can 
 afterwards transfer to as many objects as I please. With respect 
 to the other qualities that go to make up the ideas of corporeal 
 objects, viz., extension, figure, situation, and motion, it is true 
 that they are not formally in me, since I am merely a thinking 
 being; but because they are only certain modes of substance, 
 and because I myself am a substance, it seems possible that they 
 may be contained in me eminently. 
 
 There only remains, therefore, the idea of God, in which I 
 must consider whether there is anything that cannot be sup- 
 posed to originate with mvself. By the name God, I under- 
 stand a substance infinite, [eternal, immutable], independent, 
 all-knowing, all-powerful, and by which I myself, and every 
 other thing that exists, if any such there be, were created. But 
 these properties are so great and excellent, that the more atten- 
 tively I consider them the less I feel persuaded that the idea I 
 have of them owes its origin to myself alone. And thus it is 
 absolutely necessary to conclude, from all that I have before 
 said, that God exists: joMjiough the idea of substance be in 
 my mind owing to this, that I myself am a substance, I sjiQuld" 
 not, however, have the idea of an infinite substance, seeing I 
 amjt finitej^njk^^ me by son^^u^sjajic^Jif 
 
 reality infinite. 
 
 And I must not imagine that I do not apprehend the infinite 
 by a true idea, but only by the negation of the finite, in the same 
 way that I comprehend repose and darkness by the negation of 
 motion and light: since, on the contrary, I clearly perceive that 
 there is more reality in the infinite substance than in the finite, 
 and therefore that in some way I possess the perception (notion) 
 of the infinite before that of the finite, that is, the perception 
 of God before that of myself, for how could I know that I doubt, 
 desire, or that something is wanting to me, and that I am notj 
 wholly perfect, if I possessed no idea of a being more perfect 
 than myself, by comparison of which I knew the deficiencies of 
 my nature ? 
 
 And it cannot be said that this idea of God is perhaps materi- 
 ally false, and consequently that it may have arisen from nothing, 
 
142 DESCARTES 
 
 [in other words, that it may exist in me from my imperfection], 
 as I before said of the ideas of heat and cold, and the like : for, 
 on the contrary, as this idea is very clear and distinct, and con- 
 tains in itself more objective reality than any other, there can 
 be no one of itself more true, or less open to the suspicion of 
 falsity. 
 
 The idea, <E say, of a being supremely perfect, and infinite, 
 is in the highest degree true; for although, perhaps, we may 
 imagine that such a being does not exist, we cannot, nevertheless, 
 suppose that his idea represents nothing real, as I have already 
 said of the idea of cold. It is likewise clear and distinct in the 
 highest degree, since whatever the mind clearly and distinctly 
 conceives as real or true, and as implying any perfection, is con- 
 tained entire in this idea. And this is true, nevertheless, although 
 I do not comprehend the infinite, and although there may be 
 in God an infinity of things that I cannot comprehend, nor 
 perhaps even compass by thought in any way; for it is of the 
 nature of the infinite that it should not be comprehended by the 
 finite; and it is enough that I rightly understand this, and judge 
 that all which I clearly perceive, and in which I know there is 
 some perfection, and perhaps also an infinity of properties of 
 which I am ignorant, are formally or eminently in God, in order 
 that the idea I have of him may become the most true, clear, and 
 distinct of all the ideas in my mind. 
 
 But perhaps I am something more than I suppose myself to 
 be, and it may be that all those perfections which I attribute 
 to God, in some way exist potentially in me, although they do 
 not yet show themselves, and are not reduced to act. Indeed, I 
 am already conscious that my knowledge is being increased [and 
 perfected] by degrees; and I see nothing to prevent it from thus 
 gradually increasing to infinity, nor any reason why, after such 
 increase and perfection, I should not be able thereby to acquire 
 all the other perfections of the Divine nature; nor, in fine, why 
 the power I possess of acquiring those perfections, if it really 
 now exist in me, should not be sufficient to produce the ideas 
 of them. Yet, on looking more closely into the matter, I dis- 
 cover that this cannot be ; for, in the first place, although it were 
 
MEDITATIONS 143 
 
 true that my knowledge daily acquired new degrees of perfection, 
 and although there were potentially in my nature much that was 
 not as yet actually in it, still all these excellences make not 
 the slightest approach to the idea I have of the Deity, in whom 
 there is no perfection merely potentially [but all actually] exist- 
 ent; for it is even an unmistakeable token of imperfection in my 
 knowledge, that it is augmented by degrees. Further, although 
 my knowledge increase more and more, nevertheless I am not, 
 therefore, induced to think that it will ever be actually infinite, 
 since it can never reach that point beyond which it shall be in- 
 capable of further increase. But I conceive God as actually 
 infinite, so that nothing can be added to his perfection. And, in 
 fine, I readily perceive that the objective being of an idea can- 
 not be produced by a being that is merely potentially existent, 
 which, properly speaking, is nothing, but only by a being exist- 
 ing formally or actually. 
 
 And, truly, I see nothing in all that I have now said which 
 it is not easy for any one, who shall carefully consider it, to dis- 
 cern by the natural light ; but when I allow my attention in some 
 degree to relax, the vision of my mind being obscured, and, as 
 it were, blinded by the images of sensible objects, I do not 
 readily remember the reason why the idea of a being more per- 
 fect than myself, must of necessity have proceeded from a being 
 in reality more perfect. On this account I am here desirous to 
 inquire further, whether I, wTio possess this idea of God, could 
 exist supposing there were no God. And I ask, from whom 
 could I, in that case, derive my existence ? Perhaps from myself,, 
 or from my parents, or from some other causes less perfect than 
 God ; for anything more perfect, or even equal to God, cannot be 
 thought or imagined. But if I [were independent of every other 
 existence, and] were myself the author of my being, I should 
 doubt of nothing, I should desire nothing, and, in fine, no per- 
 fection would be awanting to me; for I should have bestowed 
 upon myself every perfection of which I possess the idea, and I 
 should thus be God. And it must not be imagined that what is 
 now wanting to me is perhaps of more difficult acquisition than 
 that of which I am already possessed; for, on the contrary, it is 
 
i 4 4 DESCARTES 
 
 quite manifest that it was a matter of much higher difficulty that 
 I, a thinking being, should arise from nothing, than it would be 
 for me to acquire the knowledge of many things of which I am 
 ignorant, and which are merely the accidents of a thinking sub- 
 stance ; and certainly, if I possessed of myself the greater perfec- 
 tion of which I have now spoken, [in other words, if I were the 
 author of my own existence], I would not at least have denied 
 to myself things that may be more easily obtained, [as that infi- 
 nite variety of knowledge of which I am at present destitute]. 
 I could not, indeed, have denied to myself any property which 
 I perceive is contained in the idea of God, because there is none 
 of these that seems to me to be more difficult to make or acquire; 
 and if there were any that should happen to be more difficult 
 to acquire, they would certainly appear so to me (supposing that 
 I myself were the source of the other things I possess), because 
 I should discover in them a limit to my power. And though I 
 were to suppose that I always was as I- now am, I should not, 
 on this ground, escape the force of these reasonings, since it 
 would not follow, even on this supposition, that no author of 
 my existence needed to be sought after. For the whole time of my 
 life may be divided into an infinity of parts, each of which is in 
 no way dependent on any other; and, accordingly, because I was 
 in existence a short time ago, it does not follow that I must now 
 exist, unless in this moment some cause create me anew as it 
 were, that is, conserve me. In truth, it is perfectly clear and 
 evident to all who will attentively consider the nature of duration, 
 that the conservation of a substance, in each moment of its 
 duration, requires the same power and act that would be neces- 
 sary to create it, supposing it were not yet in existence; so that 
 it is manifestly a dictate of the natural light that conservation 
 and creation differ merely in respect of our mode of thinking 
 [and not in reality]. All that is here required, therefore, is that I 
 interrogate myself to discover whether I possess any power by 
 means of which I can bring it about that I, who now am, shall 
 exist a moment afterwards: for, since I am merely a thinking 
 thing (or since, at least, the precise question, in the meantime, 
 is only of that part of myself), if such a power resided in me, I 
 
MEDITATIONS 145 
 
 should, without doubt, be conscious of it; but I am conscious 
 of no such power, and thereby I manifestly know that I am de- 
 pendent upon some being different from myself. 
 
 But perhaps the being upon whom I am dependent, is not 
 God, and I have been produced either by my parents, or by 
 some causes less perfect than Deity. This cannot be: for, as I 
 before said, it is perfectly evident that there must at least be as 
 much reality in the cause as in its effect ; and accordingly, since 
 Tjvrr^a. thinking thing, and possess in jnffself an idea of Goo*, 
 whatever in the end be the cause of my existence, it rnust_of_ 
 necessity be admitted that it is likewise a thinking being, and 
 that it possesses in itself the idea and all the perfections j^attri- 
 bute_to Deity. Then it may again be inquired whether this 
 cause owes its origin and existence to itself, or to some other 
 cause. For if it be self-existent, it follows, from what I have 
 before laid down, that this cause is God; for, since it possesses 
 the perfection of self -existence, it must likewise, without doubt, 
 have the power of actually possessing every perfection of which 
 it has the idea, in other words, all the perfections I conceive 
 to belong to God. But if it owe its existence to another cause 
 than itself, we demand again, for a similar reason, whether 
 this second cause exists of itself or through some other, uniil, 
 from stage to stage, we aHeagth arrive- at an ultimate cause;, 
 which will be God. And it is quite manifest that in this matter 
 there can be no infinite regress of causes, seeing that the question 
 raised respects not so much the cause which once produced me, 
 as that by which I am at this present moment conserved. 
 
 Nor can it be supposed that several causes concurred in my 
 production, and that from one I -received the idea of one of the 
 perfections I attribute to Deity, and from another the idea of 
 some other, and thus that all those perfections are indeed found 
 somewhere in the universe, but do not all exist together in a 
 single being who is God; for, on the contrary, the unity, the 
 simplicity or inseparability of all the properties of Deity, is one 
 of the chief perfections I conceive him to possess; and the idea 
 of this unity of all the perfections of Deity, could certainly not 
 be put into my mind by any cause from which I did not like- 
 
146 DESCARTES 
 
 wise receive the ideas of all the other perfections; or no power 
 could enable me to embrace them in an inseparable unity, with- 
 out at the same time giving me the knowledge of what they 
 were [and of their existence in a particular mode]. 
 
 Finally, with regard to my parents [from whom it appears I 
 sprung], although all that I believed respecting them be true, 
 it does not, nevertheless, follow that I am conserved by them, 
 or even that I was produced by them, in so far as I am a thinking 
 being. All that, at the most, they contributed to my origin was 
 the giving of certain dispositions (modifications) to the matter 
 in which I have hitherto judged that I or my mind, which is 
 what alone I now consider to be myself, is enclosed; and thus 
 there can here be no difficulty with respect to them, and it is 
 absolutely necessary to conclude from this alone that I am, and 
 possess the idea of a being absolutely perfect, that is, of God, 
 that his existence is most clearly demonstrated. 
 
 There remains only the inquiry as to the way in which I re- 
 ceived this idea from God; for I have not drawn it from the senses, 
 nor is it even presented to me unexpectedly, as is usual with 
 the ideas of sensible objects, when these are presented or appear 
 to be presented to the external organs of the senses; it is not even 
 a pure production or fiction of my mind, for it is not in my power 
 to take from or add to it; and consequently there but remains 
 the alternative that it is innate, in the same way as is the idea of 
 myself. And, in truth, it is norto be wondered at that God, at 
 my creation, implanted this idea in me, that it might serve, as 
 it were, for the mark of the workman impressed on his work ; and 
 it is not also necessary that the mark should be something differ- 
 ent from the work itself; but considering only that God is my 
 creator, it is highly probable that he in some way fashioned 
 me after his own image and likeness, and that I perceive this 
 likeness, in which is contained the idea of God, by the same 
 faculty by which I apprehend myself, in other words, when 
 I make myself the object of reflection, I not only find that I 
 am an incomplete, [imperfect] and dependent being, and one 
 who unceasingly aspires after something better and greater 
 than he is; but, at the same time, I am assured likewise that he 
 
MEDITATIONS 147 
 
 upon whom I am dependent possesses in himself all the goods 
 after which I aspire, [and the ideas of which I find in my mind], 
 and that not merely indefinitely and potentially, but infinitely 
 and actually, and that he is thus God. And the whole force of 
 the argument of which I have here availed myself to~ establish 
 the existence of God, consists in this, that I perceive I could 
 not possibly be of such a nature as I am, and yet have in my 
 mind the idea of a God, if God did not in reality exist. this 
 same jGod J _l_say. whose idea is in my mind that is, a be- 
 ing whojpossesses all those lofty perfections, of which the mind 
 may have some slight conception, without, however, being able 
 fully jc^comprehend tiiejri^zi^and whfT^~whr>11y superior to a.U_ 
 defect, [and has nothing thatmarks imperfection]: whence it is_ 
 sufficiently manifest thnt hpTarvnnt hp a Hpppivpr T since it is a 
 dictateof the natural light that all fraud and deception spring 
 from some defect 
 
 But before I examine this with more attention, and pass on 
 to the consideration of other truths that may be evolved out 
 of it, I think it proper to remain here for some time in the 
 contemplation of God himself that I may ponder at leisure 
 his marvellous attributes and behold, admire, and adore the 
 beauty of this light so unspeakably great, as far, at least, as the 
 strength of my mind, which is to some degree dazzled by the sight, 
 will permit. For just as we learn by faith that the supreme 
 felicity of another life consists in the contemplation of the Divine 
 majesty alone, so even now we learn from experience that a like 
 meditation, though incomparably less perfect, is the source of the 
 highest satisfaction of which we are susceptible in this life. 
 
BARUCH DE SPINOZA 
 
 . (1632-1677) 
 
 THE ETHICS 
 
 Translated from the Latin* by 
 R. H. M. ELWES 
 
 PART!. CONCERNING GOD 
 
 DEFINITIONS 
 
 I. BY that which is selj-caitsed, I mean that of which the 
 essence involves existence, or that of which the nature is only 
 conceivable as existent. 
 
 II. A thing is called finite after its kind, when it can be limited 
 by another thing of the same nature; for instance, a body is 
 called finite because we always conceive another greater body. 
 So, also, a thought is limited by another thought, but a body 
 is not limited by thought, nor a thought by body. 
 
 III. By substance, I mean that which is in itself, and is con- 
 ceived through itself : in other words, that of which a conception 
 can be formed independently of any other conception. 
 
 IV. By attribute, I mean that which the intellect perceives 
 as constituting the essence of substance. 
 
 V. By mode, I mean the modifications of substance, or that 
 which exists in, and is conceived through, something other than 
 itself. 
 
 VI. By God, I mean a being absolutely infinite that is, a 
 substance consisting in infinite attributes, of which each ex- 
 presses eternal and infinite essentiality. 
 
 Explanation. I say absolutely infinite, not infinite after its 
 kind : for, of a thing infinite only after its kind, infinite attributes 
 may be denied; but that which is absolutely infinite, contains in 
 
 * Opera posthuma, Amsterdam, 1677; Opera, ed. C. H. B ruder, Leipzig, 
 1843-46 ("Ethica ordine geometrica demonstrata," vol. i, pp. 143-416). Re- 
 printed here from Spinoza's Works, translated by R. H. M. Elwes. London, 
 George Bell and Sons, 1884; rev. ed., 1906. 
 
THE ETHICS 149 
 
 its essence whatever expresses reality, and involves no nega- 
 tion. 
 
 VII. That thing is called free, which exists solely by the ne- 
 cessity of its own nature, and of which the action is determined 
 by itself alone. On the other hand, that thing is necessary, or 
 rather constrained, which is determined by something external 
 to itself to a fixed and definite method of existence or action. 
 
 VIII. By eternity, I mean existence itself, in so far as it is 
 conceived necessarily to follow solely from the definition of that 
 which is eternal.. 
 
 Explanation. Existence of this kind is conceived as an 
 eternal truth, like the essence of a thing, and, therefore, cannot 
 be explained by means of continuance or time, though continu- 
 ance may be conceived without a beginning 'or end. 
 
 AXIOMS 
 
 I. Everything which exists, exists either in itself or in some- 
 thing else. 
 
 II. That which cannot be conceived through anything else 
 must be conceived through itself. 
 
 III. From a given definite cause an effect necessarily follows; 
 and, on the other hand, if no definite cause be granted, it is im- 
 possible that an effect can follow. 
 
 IV. The knowledge of an effect depends on and involves the 
 knowledge of a cause. 
 
 V. Things which have nothing in common cannot be under- 
 stood, the one by means of the other; the conception of one does 
 not involve the conception of the other. 
 
 VI. A true idea must correspond with its ideate or object. 
 
 VII. If a thing can be conceived as non-existing, its essence 
 does not involve existence. 
 
 PROPOSITIONS 
 
 PROP. I. Substance is by nature prior to its modifications. 
 Pro- This is clear from Deff. iii. and v. 
 : II. Two substances, whose attributes are different, have 
 not in common. 
 
i 5 o SPINOZA 
 
 Proof. Also evident from Def. iii. For each must exist in 
 itself, and be conceived through itself; in other words, the con- 
 ception of one does not imply the conception of the other. 
 
 PROP. III. Things which have nothing in common cannot be 
 one the cause oj the other. 
 
 Proof. If they have nothing in common, it follows that 
 one cannot be apprehended by means of the other (Ax. v.), 
 and, therefore, one cannot be the cause of the other (Ax. iv.). 
 Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. IV. Two or more distinct things are distinguished one 
 from the other , either by the difference of the attributes of the sub- 
 stances, or by the difference oj their modifications. 
 
 Proof. Everything which exists, exists either in itself or in 
 something else (Ax. i.), that is (by Defs. iii. and v.), nothing 
 is granted in addition to the understanding, except substance 
 and its modifications. Nothing is, therefore, given besides the 
 understanding, by which several things may be distinguished 
 one from the other, except the substances, or, in other words 
 (see Ax. iv.), their attributes and modifications. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. V. There cannot exist in the universe two or more sub- 
 stances having the same nature or attribute. 
 
 Proof. If several distinct substances be granted, they must 
 be distinguished one from the other, either by the difference 
 of their attributes, or by the difference of their modifications 
 (Prop. iv.). If only by the difference of their attributes, it will 
 be granted that there cannot be more than one with an identi- 
 cal attribute. If by the difference of their modifications, as 
 substance is naturally prior to its modifications (Prop, i.), it 
 follows that setting the modifications aside, and considering 
 substance in itself, that is truly (Defs. iii. and vi.), there cannot 
 be conceived one substance different from another, that is 
 (by Prop, iv.), there cannot be granted several substances, but 
 one substance only. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. VI. One substance cannot be produced by another sub- 
 stance. 
 
 Proof. It is impossible that there should be in the universe 
 two substances with an identical attribute, i. e. which have 
 
THE ETHICS 151 
 
 anything common to them both (Prop, ii.), and, therefore 
 (Prop, iii.), one cannot be the cause of another, neither can one 
 be produced by the other. Q. E. D. 
 
 Corollary. Hence it follows that a substance cannot be pro- 
 duced by anything external to itself. For in the universe nothing 
 is granted, save substances and their modifications (as appears 
 from Ax. i. and Defs. iii. and v.). Now (by the last Prop.) sub- 
 stance cannot be produced by another substance, therefore it 
 cannot be produced by anything external to itself. Q. E. D. 
 This is shown still more readily by the absurdity of the contra- 
 dictory. For, if substance be produced by an external cause, the 
 knowledge of it would depend on the knowledge of its cause 
 (Ax. iv.), and (by Def. iii.) it would itself not be substance. 
 
 JPgop. VTI^ Existence belongs to the nature of substance. 
 
 Proof. Substance cannot be produced by anything external 
 (Corollary, Prop, vi.), it must, therefore, be its own cause 
 that is, its essence necessarily involves existence, or existence 
 belongs to its nature. 
 
 PROP. VIII. Every substance is necessarily infinite. 
 
 Proof. There can only be one substance with an identical 
 attribute, and existence follows from its nature (Prop, vii.) ; its 
 nature, therefore, involves existence, either as finite or infinite. 
 It does not exist as finite, for (by Def. ii.) it would then be 
 limited by something else of the same kind, which would also 
 necessarily exist (Prop, vii.) ; and there would be two substances 
 with an identical attribute, which is absurd (Prop. v.). It there- 
 fore exists as infinite. Q. E. D. 
 
 Note I. As finite existence involves a partial negation, and 
 infinite existence is the absolute affirmation of the given nature, 
 it follows (solely from Prop, vii.) that every substance is neces- 
 sarily infinite. 
 
 PROP. IX. The more reality or being a thing has the greater 
 the number of its attributes (Def. iv.). 
 
 PROP. X. Each particular attribute of the one substance must 
 be conceived through itself. 
 
 Proo], An attriV it which the ir/ujliujr perceives of 
 
1 52 SPINOZA 
 
 substance, as constituting its essence (Def. iv.), and, therefore, 
 must be conceived through itself (Def. iii.). Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XI. God, or substance, consisting 0} infinite attributes, 
 oj which each expresses eternal and infinite essentiality, neces- 
 sarily exists. 
 
 Proof. If this be denied, conceive, if possible, that God 
 does not exist: then his essence does not involve existence. 
 But this (by Prop, vii.) is absurd. Therefore God necessarily 
 exists. 
 
 PROP. XII. No attribute oj substance can be conceived from 
 which it would jollow that substance can be divided. 
 
 Proof. The parts into which substance as thus conceived 
 would be divided, either will retain the nature of substance, 
 or they will not. If the former, then (by Prop, viii.) each part 
 will necessarily be infinite, and (by Prop, vi.) self-caused, and 
 (by Prop, v.) will perforce consist of a different attribute, so 
 that, in that case, several substances could be formed out of 
 one substance, which (by Prop, vi.) is absurd. Moreover, the 
 parts (by Prop, ii.) would have nothing in common with their 
 whole, and the whole (by Def. iv. and Prop, x.) could both exist 
 and be. conceived without its parts, which everyone will admit 
 to be absurd. If we adopt the second alternative namely, 
 that the parts will not retain the nature of substance then, 
 if the whole substance were divided into equal parts, it would 
 lose the nature of substance, and would cease to exist, which 
 (by Prop, vii.) is absurd. 
 
 PROP. XIII. Substance absolutely infinite is indivisible. 
 
 Proof. If it could be divided, the parts into which it was 
 divided would either retain the nature of absolutely infinite 
 substance, or they would not. If the former, we should have 
 several substances of the same nature, which (by Prop, v.) is 
 absurd. If the latter, then (by Prop, vii.) substance absolutely 
 infinite could cease to exist, which (by Prop, xi.) is also absurd. 
 
 Corollary. It follows, that no substance, and consequently 
 no extended substance, in so far as it is substance, is divisible. 
 
 Note. The indivisibility of substance may be more easily 
 understood as follows. The nature of substance can only be 
 
THE ETHICS 153 
 
 conceived as infinite, and by a part of substance, nothing else 
 can be understood than finite substance, which (by Prop, viii.) 
 involves a manifest contradiction. 
 
 PROP. XIV. Besides God no substance can be granted or con- 
 ceived. 
 
 Prooj. As God is a being absolutely infinite, of whom no 
 attribute that expresses the essence of substance can be denied 
 (by Def. vi.), and he necessarily exists (by Prop, xi.); if any sub- 
 stance besides God were granted, it would have to be explained 
 by some attribute of God, and thus two substances with the 
 same attribute would exist, which (by Prop, v.) is absurd; there- 
 fore, besides God no substance can be granted, or, consequently, 
 be conceived. If it could be conceived, it would necessarily 
 have to be conceived as existent ; but this (by the first part of this 
 proof) is absurd. Therefore, besides God no substance can be 
 jynmteo 1 or conceived. Q. E. D. 
 
 Corollary I. Clearly, therefore: i. God is one, that is (by 
 Def. vi.) only one substance can be granted in the universe, 
 and that substance is absolutely infinite, as we have already 
 indicated (in the note to Prop. x.). 
 
 Corollary II. It follows: 2. That extension and thought are 
 either attributes of God or (by Ax. i.) accidents (affectiones) of \ 
 the attributes of God. 
 
 PROP. XV. Whatsoever is, is in God, and without God nothing 
 can be. or be conceived. 
 
 Proof. Besides God, no substance is granted or can be con- 
 ceived (by Prop, xiv.), that is (by Def. iii.) nothing which is in 
 itself and is conceived through itself. But modes (by Def. v.) 
 can neither be, nor be conceived without substance; wherefore 
 they can only be in the divine nature, and can only through it 
 be conceived. But substances and modes form the sum total of 
 existence (by Ax. i.), therefore, without God nothing can be, or 
 be conceived. Q. E. D. 
 
 Note. Some assert that God, like a man, consists of body 
 and mind, and is susceptible of passions. How far such persons 
 have strayed from the truth is sufficiently evident from what has 
 been said. But these I pass over. ... I myself have proved 
 
 inv 
 
154 SPINOZA 
 
 sufficiently clearly, at any rate in my own judgment (Coroll. 
 Prop, vi., and Note 2, Prop, viii.), that no substance can be 
 produced or created by anything other than itself. Further, I 
 showed (in Prop, xiv.), that besides God no substance can be 
 granted or conceived. Hence we drew the conclusion that ex- 
 tended substance is one of the infinite attributes of God. 
 
 PROP. XVI. From the necessity oj the divine nature must fol- 
 low an infinite number of things in infinite ways that is, all 
 things which can fall within the sphere oj infinite intellect. 
 
 Proof. This proposition will be clear to everyone, who 
 remembers that from the given definition of any thing the intellect 
 infers several properties, which really necessarily follow there- 
 from (that is, from the actual essence of the thing defined) ; and 
 it infers more properties in proportion as the definition of the 
 thing expresses more reality, that is f in proportion as the essence 
 of the thing defined involves more reality. Now, as the divine 
 nature has absolutely infinite attributes (by Def. vi.), of which 
 each expresses infinite essence after its kind, it follows that from 
 the necessity of its nature an infinite number of things (that is, 
 everything which can fall within the sphere of an infinite intellect) 
 must necessarily follow. Q. E. D. 
 
 Corollary I. Hence it follows, that God is the efficient cause 
 of all that can fall within the sphere of an infinite intellect. 
 
 Corollary II. It also follows that God is a cause in himself, 
 and not through an accident of his nature. 
 
 Corollary III. It follows, thirdly, that God is the absolutely 
 first cause. 
 
 PROP. XVII. God acts solely by the laws of his own nature, and 
 is not constrained by anyone. 
 
 Proof. We have just shown (in Prop, xvi.), that solely 
 from the necessity of the divine nature, or, what is the same 
 thing, solely from the laws of his nature, an infinite number of 
 things absolutely follow in an infinite number of ways; and we 
 proved (in Prop, xv.), that without God nothing can be nor be 
 conceived; but that all things are in God. Wherefore nothing 
 can exist outside himself, whereby he can be conditioned or 
 
THE ETHICS 155 
 
 constrained to act. Wherefore God acts solely by the laws of 
 his own nature, and is not constrained by anyone. Q. E. D. 
 
 Corollary I. It follows: i. That there can be no cause which, 
 either extrinsically or intrinsically, besides the perfection of his 
 own nature, moves God to act. 
 
 Corollary II. It follows: 2. That God is the sole free cause. 
 For God alone exists by the sole necessity of his nature (by Prop, 
 xi. and Prop, xiv., Coroll. i.), and acts by the sole necessity of his 
 nature, wherefore God is (by Def. vii.) the sole free cause. Q.E.D. 
 
 Note. Others think that God is a free cause, because he can, 
 as they think, bring it about, that those things which we have 
 said follow from his nature that is, which are in his power, 
 should not come to pass, or should not be produced by him. 
 But this is the same as if they said, that God could bring it about 
 that it should not follow from the nature of a triangle, that its 
 three interior angles should be equal to two right angles; or that 
 from a given cause no effect should follow, which is absurd. 
 
 PROP. XVIII. God is the indwelling and not the transient cause 
 of all things. 
 
 Proof. All things which are, are in God, and must be con- 
 ceived through God (by Prop, xv.), therefore (by Prop, xvi., 
 Coroll. i.) God is. the cause of those things which are in him. 
 This is our first point. Further, besides God there can be no 
 substance (by Prop, xiv.), that is nothing in itself external to God. 
 This is our second point. God, therefore, is the indwelling and 
 not the transient cause of all things. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XIX. God, and all the attributes of God, are eternal. 
 
 Proof. God (by Def. vi.) is substance, which (by Prop, xi.) 
 necessarily exists, that is (by Prop, vii.) existence appertains to 
 its nature, or (what is the same thing) follows from its definition; 
 therefore, God is eternal (by Def. viii.). Further, by the attri- 
 butes of God we must understand that which (by Def. iv.) ex- 
 presses the essence of the divine substance in other words, 
 that which appertains to substance: that, I say, should be in- 
 volved in the attributes of substance. Now eternity appertains 
 to the nature of. substance (as I have already shown in Prop. 
 
156 SPINOZA 
 
 vii.) ; therefore, eternity must appertain to each of the attributes, 
 and thus are all eternal. Q. E. D. 
 
 Note. This proposition is also evident from the manner in 
 which (in Prop, xi.) I demonstrated the existence of God; it is 
 evident, I repeat, from that proof, that the existence of God, like 
 his essence, is an eternal truth. Further (in Prop. xix. of my 
 "Principles of the Cartesian Philosophy"), I have proved the 
 eternity of God, in another manner, which I need not here repeat. 
 
 PROP. XX. The existence oj God and his essence are one and 
 the same. 
 
 Proof. God (by the last Prop.) and all his attributes are 
 eternal, that is (by Def. viii.) each of his attributes expresses 
 existence. Therefore the same attributes of God which explain 
 his eternal essence, explain at the same time his eternal exist- 
 ence in other words, that which constitutes God's essence 
 constitutes at the same time his existence. Wherefore God's 
 existence and God's essence are one .and the same. Q. E. D. 
 
 Cor oil. I. Hence it follows that God's existence, like His 
 essence, is an eternal truth. 
 
 Coroll. II. Secondly, it follows that God, and all the attri- 
 butes of God, are unchangeable. For if they could be changed 
 in respect to existence, they must also be able to be changed in 
 respect to essence that is, obviously, be changed from true to 
 false, which is absurd. 
 
 PROP. XXI. All things which follow from the absolute nature 
 of any attribute oj God must always exist and be infinite, or, in 
 other words, are eternal and infinite through the said attribute. 
 
 Proof. Conceive, if it be possible (supposing the proposition 
 to be denied), that something in some attribute of God can follow 
 from the absolute nature of the said attribute, and that at the 
 same time it is finite, and has a conditioned existence of duration; 
 for instance, the idea of God expressed in the attribute thought. 
 Now thought, in so far as it is supposed to be an attribute of 
 God, is necessarily (by Prop, xi.) in its nature infinite. But, in 
 so far as it possesses the idea of God, it is supposed finite. It 
 cannot, however, be conceived as finite, unless it be limited by 
 thought (by Def. ii.); but it is not limited by thought itself, in 
 
THE ETHICS 157 
 
 so far as it has constituted the idea of God (for so far it is supposed 
 to be finite); therefore, it is limited by thought, in so far as it 
 has not constituted the idea of God, which nevertheless (by 
 Prop, xi.) must necessarily exist. 
 
 PROP. XXII. Whatsoever follows from any attribute o) God, 
 in so far as it is modified by a modification, which exists neces- 
 sarily and as infinite, through the said attribute, must also exist 
 necessarily and as infinite. 
 
 Proof. The proof of this proposition is similar to that of 
 the preceding one. 
 
 PROP. XXIII. Every mode, which exists both necessarily and 
 as infinite, must necessarily follow either from the absolute nature 
 of some attribute of God, or from an attribute modified by a modifi- 
 cation which exists necessarily, and as infinite. 
 
 Proof. A mode exists in something else, through which it 
 must be conceived (Def. v.), that is (Prop, xv.), it exists solely 
 in God, and solely through God can be conceived. If therefore 
 a mode is conceived as necessarily existing and infinite, it must 
 necessarily be inferred or perceived through some attribute of 
 God, in so far as such attribute is conceived as expressing the 
 infinity and necessity of existence, in other words (Def. viii.) 
 eternity; that is, in so far as it is considered absolutely. A mode, 
 therefore, which necessarily exists as infinite, must follow from 
 the absolute nature of some attribute of God, either immediately 
 (Prop, xxi.) or through the means of some modification, which 
 follows from the absolute nature of the said attribute; that is 
 (by Prop, xxii.), which exists necessarily and as infinite. 
 
 PROP. XXIV. The essence of things produced by God does not 
 involve existence. 
 
 Proof. This proposition is evident from Def. i. For that of 
 which the nature (considered in itself) involves existence is self- 
 caused, and exists by the sole necessity of its own nature. 
 
 Corollary. Hence it follows that God is not only the cause 
 of things coming into existence, but also of their continuing in 
 existence, that is, in scholastic phraseology. God is cause of the 
 being of things (essendi rerum). For whether things exist, or 
 
158 SPINOZA 
 
 do not exist, whenever we contemplate their essence, we see that 
 it involves neither existence nor duration ; consequently, it can- 
 not be the cause of either the one or the other. God must be the 
 sole cause, inasmuch as to him alone does existence appertain. 
 (Prop. xiv. Coroll. i.) Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XXV. God is the efficient cause not only 0} the existence 
 of things, but also of their essence. 
 
 Proof. If this be denied, then God is not the cause of the 
 essence of things; and therefore the essence of things can (by 
 Ax. iv.) be conceived without God. This (by Prop, xv.) is ab- 
 surd. Therefore, God is the cause of the essence of things. Q.E.D. 
 
 Note. This proposition follows more clearly from Prop, 
 xvi. For it is evident thereby that, given the divine nature, the 
 essence of things must be inferred from it, no less than their 
 ^existence in a word, God must be called the cause of all things, 
 in the same sense as he is called the cause of himself. This 
 will be made still clearer by the following corollary. 
 
 Corollary. Individual things are nothing but modifications 
 of the attributes of God, or modes by which the attributes of 
 God are expressed in a fixed and definite manner. The proof 
 appears from Prop. xv. and Def. v. 
 
 PROP. XXVI. A thing which is conditioned to act in a particular 
 manner, has necessarily been thus conditioned by God; and that 
 which has not been conditioned by God cannot condition itself to 
 act. 
 
 Proof. That by which things are said to be conditioned to 
 act in a particular manner is necessarily something positive 
 (this is obvious) ; therefore both of its essence and of its existence 
 God by the necessity of his nature is the efficient cause (Props. 
 xxv. and xvi.) ; this is our first point. Our second point is plainly 
 to be inferred therefrom. For if a thing, which has not been con- 
 ditioned by God, could condition itself, the first part of our proof 
 would be false, and this, as we have shown, is absurd. 
 
 PROP. XXVII. A thing, which has been conditioned by God 
 to act in a particular way, cannot render itself unconditioned. 
 
 Proof. This proposition is evident from the third axiom. 
 
 PROP. XXVIII. Every individual thing, or everything which 
 
THE ETHICS 159 
 
 is finite and has a conditioned existence, cannot exist or be con- 
 ditioned to act, unless it be conditioned for existence and action 
 by a cause other than itself, -which also is finite, and has a condi- 
 tioned existence; and likewise this cause cannot in its turn exist, 
 or be conditioned to act, unless it be conditioned for existence and 
 action by another cause, which also is finite, and has a conditioned 
 existence, and so on to infinity. 
 
 Proof. Whatsoever is conditioned to exist and act, has been 
 thus conditioned by God (by Prop. xxvi. and Prop, xxiv., 
 
 CorolL). 
 
 But that which is finite, and has a conditioned existence, can- 
 not be produced by the absolute nature of any attribute of God ; 
 for whatsoever follows from the absolute nature of any attribute 
 of God is infinite and eternal (by Prop. xxi.). It must, therefore, 
 follow from some attribute of God, in so far as the said attribute 
 is considered as in some way modified ; for substance and modes 
 make up the sum total of existence (by Ax. i. and Def. iii., v.), 
 while modes are merely modifications of the attributes of God. 
 But from God, or from any of his attributes, in so far as the latter 
 is modified by a modification infinite and eternal, a conditioned 
 thing cannot follow. Wherefore it must follow from, or be con- 
 ditioned for, existence and action by God or one of his attributes, 
 in so far as the latter are modified by some modification which is 
 finite, and has a conditioned existence. This is our first point. 
 Again, this cause or this modification (for the reason by which 
 we established the first part of this proof) must in its turn be 
 conditioned by another cause, which also is finite, and has a 
 conditioned existence, and, again, this last by another (for the 
 same reason) ; and so on (for the same reason) to infinity. Q.E.D. 
 
 PROP. XXIX. Nothing in the universe is contingent, but all 
 things are conditioned to exist and operate in a particular manner 
 by the necessity of the divine nature. 
 
 Proof. Whatsoever is, is in God (Prop. xv.). But God can- 
 not be called a thing contingent. For (by Prop, xi.) he exists 
 necessarily, and not contingently. Further, the modes of the 
 divine nature follow therefrom necessarily, and not contingently 
 (Prop, xvi.) ; and they thus follow, whether we consider the divine 
 
160 SPINOZA 
 
 nature absolutely, or whether we consider it as in any way con- 
 ditioned to act (Prop, xxvii.). Further, God is not only the cause 
 of these modes, in so far as they simply exist (by Prop, xxiv., 
 Coroll.), but also in so far as they are considered as conditioned 
 for operating in a particular manner (Prop. xxvi.). If they be 
 not conditioned by God (Prop, xxvi.), it is impossible, and not 
 contingent, that they should condition themselves; contrariwise, 
 if they be conditioned by God, it is impossible, and not contingent, 
 that they should render themselves unconditioned. Wherefore 
 all things are conditioned by the necessity of the divine nature, 
 not only to exist, but also to exist and operate in a particular man- 
 ner, and there is nothing that is contingent. Q. E. D. 
 
 Note. Before going any further, I wish here to explain, 
 what we should understand by nature viewed as active (natura 
 naturans), and nature viewed as passive (natura naturata). I 
 say to explain, or rather call attention to it, for I think that, from 
 what has been said, it is sufficiently clear, that by nature viewed 
 as active we should understand that which is in itself, and is 
 conceived through itself, or those attributes of substance, which 
 express eternal and infinite essence, in other words (Prop, xiv., 
 Coroll. i., and Prop, xvii., Coroll. ii.) God, in so far as he is 
 considered as a free cause. 
 
 By nature viewed as passive I understand all that which fol- 
 lows from the necessity of the nature of God, or of any of the 
 attributes of God, that is, all the modes of the attributes of God, 
 in so far as they are considered as things which are in God, and 
 which without God cannot exist or be conceived. 
 
 PROP. XXX. Intellect, in junction (actu) finite, or in junction 
 infinite, must comprehend the attributes oj God and the modifica- 
 tions of God, and nothing else. 
 
 Proof. A true idea must agree with its object (Ax. vi.) ; in 
 other words (obviously), that which is contained in the intellect 
 in representation must necessarily be granted in nature. But in 
 nature (by Prop, xiv., Coroll. i.) there is no substance save God, 
 nor any modifications save those (Prop, xv.) which are in God, 
 and cannot without God either be or be conceived. Therefore 
 the intellect, in function finite, or in function infinite, must com- 
 
THE ETHICS 161 
 
 prehend the attributes of God and the modifications of God, and 
 nothing else. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XXXI. The intellect in junction, whether finite or infi- 
 nite, as will, desire, love, &c., should be referred to passive nature 
 and not to active nature. 
 
 Proof. By the intellect we do not (obviously) mean absolute 
 thought, but only a certain mode of thinking, differing from other 
 modes, such as love, desire, &c., and therefore (Def. v.) requiring 
 to be conceived through absolute thought. It must (by Prop, 
 xv. and Def. vi.), through some attribute of God which expresses 
 the eternal and infinite essence of thought, be so conceived, that 
 without such attribute it could neither be nor be conceived. It 
 must therefore be referred to nature passive rather than to nature 
 active, as must also the other modes of thinking. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XXXII. Will cannot be called a free cause, but only a 
 necessary cause. 
 
 Proof. Will is only a particular mode of thinking, like in- 
 tellect; therefore (by Prop, xxviii.) no volition can exist, nor be 
 conditioned to act, unless it be conditioned by some cause other 
 than itself, which cause is conditioned by a third cause, and so 
 on to infinity. But if will be supposed infinite, it must also be 
 conditioned to exist and act by God, not by virtue of his being 
 substance absolutely infinite, but by virtue of his possessing 
 an attribute which expresses the infinite and eternal essence 
 of thought (by Prop, xxiii.). Thus, however it be conceived, 
 whether as finite or infinite, it requires a cause by which it should 
 be conditioned to exist and act. Thus (Def. vii.) it cannot be 
 called a free cause, but only a necessary or constrained cause. 
 Q. E. D. 
 
 Coroll. I. Hence it follows, first, that God does not act 
 according to freedom of the will. 
 
 Coroll. II. It follows, secondly, that will and intellect 
 stand in the same relation to the nature of God as do motion, 
 and rest, and absolutely all natural phenomena, which must be 
 conditioned by God (Prop, xxix.) to exist and act in a particular 
 manner. For will, like the rest, stands in need of a cause, by 
 which it is conditioned to exist and act in a particular manner. 
 
1 62 SPINOZA 
 
 And although, when will or intellect be granted, an infinite num- 
 ber of results may follow, yet God cannot on that account be 
 said to act from freedom of the will, any more than the infinite 
 number of results from motion and rest would justify us in 
 saying that motion and rest act by free will. Wherefore will no 
 more appertains to God than does anything else in nature, but 
 stands in the same relation to him as motion, rest, and the like, 
 which we have shown to follow from the necessity of the divine 
 nature, and to be conditioned by it to exist and act in a particular 
 manner. 
 
 PROP. XXXIII. Things could not have been brought into 
 being by God in any manner or in any order different from that 
 which has in fact obtained. 
 
 Proof. All things necessarily follow from the nature of God 
 (Prop, xvi.), and by the nature of God are conditioned to exist 
 and act in a particular way (Prop. xxix.). If things, therefore, 
 could have been of a different nature, or have been conditioned 
 to act in a different way, so that the order of nature would have 
 been different, God's nature would also have been able to be 
 different from what it now is; and therefore (by Prop, xi.) that 
 different nature also would have perforce existed, and conse- 
 quently there would have been able to be two or more Gods. 
 This (by Prop, xiv., Coroll. i.) is absurd. Therefore things could 
 not have been brought into being by God in any other manner, 
 &c. Q. E. D. 
 
 Note I. As I have thus shown, more clearly than the sun 
 at noonday, that there is nothing to justify us in calling things 
 contingent, I wish to explain briefly what meaning we shall at- 
 tach to the word contingent; but I will first explain the words 
 necessary and impossible. 
 
 A thing is called necessary either in respect to its essence or 
 in respect to its cause; for the existence of a thing necessarily 
 follows, either from its essence and definition, or from a given 
 efficient cause. For similar reasons a thing is said to be impos- 
 sible ; namely, inasmuch as its essence or definition involves a 
 contradiction, or because no external cause is granted, which 
 is conditioned to produce such an effect; but a thing can in no 
 
THE ETHICS 163 
 
 respect be called contingent, save in relation to the imperfection 
 of our knowledge. 
 
 A thing of which we do not know whether the essence does or 
 does not involve a contradiction, or of which, knowing that it 
 does not involve a contradiction, we are still in doubt concerning 
 the existence, because the order of causes escapes us such a 
 thing, I say, cannot appear to us either necessary or impossible. 
 Wherefore we call it contingent or possible. 
 
 PROP. XXXIV. God's power is identical with his essence. 
 
 Proof. From the sole necessity of the essence of God it 
 follows that God is the cause of himself (Prop, xi.) and of all 
 things (Prop. xvi. and Coroll.). Wherefore the power of God, 
 by which he and all things are and act, is identical with his 
 essence. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XXXV. Whatsoever we conceive to be in the power of 
 God, necessarily exists. 
 
 Proof. Whatsoever is in God's power, must (by the last 
 Prop.) be comprehended in his essence in such a manner, that 
 it necessarily follows therefrom, and therefore necessarily ex- 
 ists. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XXXVI. There is no cause from whose nature some 
 effect does not follow. 
 
 Proof. Whatsoever exists expresses God's nature or essence 
 in a given conditioned manner (by Prop. xxv. Coroll.) ; that is (by 
 Prop, xxxiv.), whatsoever exists, expresses in a given conditioned 
 manner God's power, which is the cause of all things, therefore 
 an effect must (by Prop, xvi.) necessarily follow. Q. E. D. 
 
 APPENDIX. In the foregoing I have explained the nature 
 and properties of God. I have shown that he necessarily exists, 
 that he is one : that he is, and acts solely by the necessity of his 
 own nature ; that he is the free cause of all things, and how he is 
 so ; that all things are in God, and so depend on him, that without 
 him they could neither exist nor be conceived; lastly, that all 
 things are predetermined by God, not through his free will or 
 absolute fiat, but from the very nature of God or infinite power. 
 
164 SPINOZA 
 
 I have further, where occasion offered, taken care to remove 
 the prejudices, which might impede the comprehension of my 
 demonstrations. Yet there still remain misconceptions not a few, 
 which might and may prove very grave hindrances to the under- 
 standing of the concatenation of things, as I have explained it 
 above. I have therefore thought it worth while to bring these 
 misconceptions before the bar of reason. 
 
 All such opinions spring from the notion commonly enter- 
 tained, that all things in nature act as men themselves act, 
 namely, with an end in view. It is accepted as certain, that God 
 himself directs all things to a definite goal (for it is said that God 
 made all things for man, and man that he might worship him). 
 I will, therefore, consider, this opinion, asking first why it ob- 
 tains general credence, and why all men are naturally so prone 
 to adopt it? secondly, I will point out its falsity; and, lastly, I 
 will show how it has given rise to prejudices about good and bad, 
 right and wrong, praise and blame, order and confusion, beauty 
 and ugliness, and the like. However, this is not the place to 
 deduce these misconceptions from the nature of the human 
 mind: it will be sufficient here, if I assume as a starting point, 
 what ought to be universally admitted, namely, that all men are 
 born ignorant of the causes of things, that all have the desire 
 to seek for what is useful to them, and that they are conscious 
 of such desire. Herefrom it follows, first, that men think them- 
 selves free inasmuch as they are conscious of their volitions and 
 
 ^desires, and never even dream, in their ignorance, of the causes 
 which have disposed them so to wish and desire. Secondly, that 
 men do all things for an end, namely, for that which is useful 
 
 _to them, and which they seek. Thus it comes to pass that they 
 only look for a knowledge of the final causes of events, and when 
 these are learned, they are content, as having no cause for further 
 doubt. If they cannot learn such causes from external sources, 
 they are compelled to turn to considering themselves, and reflect- 
 ing what end would have induced them personally to bring about 
 the given event, and thus they necessarily judge other natures by 
 their own. Further, as they find in themselves and outside them- 
 selves many means which assist them not a little in their search 
 
THE ETHICS 165 
 
 for what is useful, for instance, eyes for seeing, teeth for chewing, 
 herbs and animals for yielding food, the sun for giving light, the 
 sea for breeding fish, &c., they come to look on the whole of 
 nature as a means for obtaining such conveniences. Now as they 
 are aware, that they found these conveniences and did not make 
 them, they think they have cause for believing, that some other 
 being has made them for their use. As they look upon things as 
 means, they cannot believe them to be self-created; but, judging 
 from the means which they are accustomed to prepare for them- 
 selves, they are bound to believe in some ruler or rulers of the 
 universe endowed with human freedom, who have arranged and 
 adapted everything for human use. They are bound to estimate 
 the nature of such rulers (having no information on the subject) 
 in accordance with their own nature, and therefore they assert 
 that the gods ordained everything for the use of man, in order 
 to bind man to themselves and obtain from him the highest 
 honour. Hence also it follows, that everyone thought out for 
 himself, according to his abilities, a different way of worshipping 
 God, so that God might love him more than his fellows, and 
 direct the whole course of nature for the satisfaction of his blind 
 cupidity and insatiable avarice. Thus the prejudice developed 
 into superstition, and took deep root in the human mind; and 
 for this reason everyone strove most zealously to understand 
 and explain the final causes of things; but in their endeavour 
 to show that nature does nothing in vain, i. e., nothing which is 
 useless to man, they only seem to have demonstrated that nature, 
 the gods, and men are all mad together. Consider, I pfay you, 
 the result : among the many helps of nature they were bound to 
 find some hindrances, such as storms, earthquakes, diseases, &c. : 
 so they declared that such things happen, because the gods are 
 angry at some wrong done them by men, or at some fault com- 
 mitted in their worship. Experience day by day protested and 
 showed by infinite examples, that good and evil fortunes fall to 
 the lot of pious and impious alike; still they would not abandon 
 their inveterate prejudice, for it was more easy for them to class 
 such contradictions among other unknown things of whose use 
 they were ignorant, and thus to retain their actual and innate 
 
1 66 SPINOZA 
 
 condition of ignorance, than to destroy the whole fabric of their 
 reasoning and start afresh. They therefore laid down as an 
 axiom, that God's judgments far transcend human understand- 
 ing. Such a doctrine might well have sufficed to conceal the 
 truth from the human race for all eternity, if < mathematics had 
 not furnished another standard of verity in considering solely 
 the essence and properties of figures without regard to their final 
 causes. There are other reasons (which I need not mention here) 
 besides mathematics, which might have caused men's minds to 
 be directed to these general prejudices, and have led them to the 
 knowledge of the truth. 
 
 I have now sufficiently explained my first point. There is no 
 need to show at length, that nature has no particular goal in 
 view, and that final causes are mere human figments. This, I 
 think, is already evident enough, both from the causes and foun- 
 dations on which I have shown such prejudice to be based, and 
 also from Prop, xvi., and the Corollary of Prop, xxxii., and, in 
 fact, all those propositions in which I have shown, that every- 
 thing in nature proceeds from a sort of necessity, and with the 
 utmost perfection. . . . 
 
 PART II. OF THE NATURE AND ORIGIN OF 
 THE MIND 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 I now pass on to explaining the results, which must necessarily 
 follow from the essence of God, or of the eternal and infinite be- 
 ing; not, indeed, all of them (for we proved in Part i., Prop, xvi., 
 that an infinite number must follow in an infinite number of ways), 
 but only those which are able to lead us, as it were by the hand, 
 to the knowledge of the human mind and its highest blessedness. 
 
 DEFINITIONS 
 
 I. By body I mean a mode which expresses in a certain de- 
 terminate manner the essence of God, in so far as he is consid- 
 ered as an extended thing. (See Pt. i., Prop, xxv., Coroll.) 
 
THE ETHICS 167 
 
 II. I consider as belonging to the essence of a thing that, 
 which being given, the thing is necessarily given also, and, which 
 being removed, the thing is necessarily removed also; in other 
 words, that without which the thing, and which itself without 
 the thing, can neither be nor be conceived. 
 
 III. By idea, I mean the mental conception which is formed 
 by the mind as a thinking thing. 
 
 Explanation. I say conception rather than perception, 
 because the word perception seems to imply that the mind is 
 passive in respect to the object; whereas conception seems to 
 express an activity of the mind. 
 
 IV. By an adequate idea, I mean an idea which, in so far as 
 it is considered in itself, without relation to the object, has all 
 the properties or intrinsic marks of a true idea. 
 
 Explanation. I say intrinsic, in order to exclude that mark 
 which is extrinsic, namely, the agreement between the idea and 
 its object (ideatum). 
 
 V. Duration is the indefinite continuance of existing. 
 
 Explanation. I say indefinite, because it cannot be deter- 
 mined through the existence itself of the existing thing, or by 
 its efficient cause, which necessarily gives the existence of the 
 thing, but does not take it away. 
 
 VI. Reality and perfection I use as synonymous terms. 
 
 VII. By particular things, I mean things which are finite and 
 have a conditioned existence; but if several individual things 
 concur in one action, so as to be all simultaneously the effect of 
 one cause, I consider them all, so far, as one particular thing. 
 
 AXIOMS 
 
 I. The essence of man does not involve necessary existence, 
 that is, it may, in the order of nature, come to pass that this or 
 that man does or does not exist. 
 
 II. .Man thinks. 
 
 III. Modes of thinking, such as love, desire, or any other of 
 the passions, do not take place, unless there be in the same 
 individual an idea of the thing loved, desired, &c. But the idea 
 can exist without the presence of any other mode of thinking. 
 
1 68 SPINOZA 
 
 IV. We perceive that a certain body is affected in many ways. 
 
 V. We feel and perceive no particular things, save bodies and 
 modes of thought. 
 
 N. B. The postulates are given after the conclusion of Prop. xiii. 
 
 PROPOSITIONS 
 
 PROP. I. Thought is an attribute of God, or God is a thinking 
 thing. 
 
 Proof. Particular thoughts, or this or that thought, are modes 
 which, in a certain conditioned manner, express the nature of 
 God (Pt. i., Prop, xxv., Coroll.). God therefore possesses the 
 attribute (Pt. i., Def. v.) of which the concept is involved in all 
 particular thoughts, which latter are conceived thereby. Thought, 
 therefore, is one of the infinite attributes of God, which express 
 God's eternal and infinite essence (Pt. i., Def. vi.). In other 
 words, God is a thinking thing. Q. E. D. 
 
 Note. This proposition is also evident from the fact, that 
 we are able to conceive an infinite thinking being. For, in pro- 
 portion as a thinking being is conceived as thinking more 
 thoughts, so is it conceived as containing more reality or perfec- 
 tion. Therefore a being, which can think an infinite number of 
 things in an infinite number of ways, is, necessarily, in respect 
 of thinking, infinite. As, therefore, from the consideration of 
 thought alone we conceive an infinite being, thought is necessarily 
 (Pt. i., Defs. iv. and vi.) one of the infinite attributes of God, as 
 we were desirous of showing. 
 
 PROP. II. Extension is an attribute of God, or God is an ex- 
 tended thing. 
 
 Proof. The proof of this proposition is similar to that of 
 the last. 
 
 PROP. III. In God there is necessarily the idea not only of his 
 essence, but also of all things which necessarily follow from his 
 essence. 
 
 Proof. God (by the first Prop, of this Part) can think an 
 infinite number of things in infinite ways, or (what is the same 
 thing, by Prop, xvi., Part i.) can form the idea of his essence, and 
 of all things which necessarily follow therefrom. Now all that 
 
THE ETHICS 169 
 
 is in the power of God necessarily is (Pt. i., Prop. xxxv). There- 
 fore, such an idea as we are considering necessarily is, and in 
 God alone. Q. E. D. (Part i., Prop, xv.) 
 
 Note. The multitude understand by the power of God the 
 free will of God, and the right over all things that exist, which 
 latter are accordingly generally considered as contingent. For 
 it is said that God has the power to destroy all things, and to 
 reduce them to nothing. Further, the power of God is very often 
 likened to the power of kings. But this doctrine we have refuted 
 (Pt. i., Prop, xxxii., Corolls. i. and ii.), and we have shown (Part 
 i., Prop, xvi.) that God acts by the same necessity, as that by 
 which he understands himself; in other words, as it follows 
 from the necessity of the divine nature (as all admit), that God 
 understands himself, so also does it follow by the same neces- 
 sity that God performs infinite acts in infinite ways. We further 
 showed (Part i., Prop, xxxiv.), that God's power is identical with 
 God's essence in action; therefore it is as impossible for us to 
 conceive God as not acting, as to conceive him as non-existent. 
 If we might pursue the subject further, I could point out, that 
 the power which is commonly attributed to God is not only 
 human (as showing that God is conceived by the multitude as a 
 man, or in the likeness of a man), but involves a negation of 
 power. However, I am unwilling to go over the same ground so 
 often. I would only beg the reader again and again, to turn over 
 frequently in his mind what I have said in Part i. from Prop. xvi. 
 to the end. No one will be able to follow rny meaning, unless he 
 is scrupulously careful not to confound the power of God with 
 the human power and right of kings. 
 
 PROP. IV. The idea of God, from which an infinite number 
 oj things follow in infinite ways, can only be one. 
 
 Proof. Infinite intellect comprehends nothing save the 
 attributes of God and his modifications (Part i., Prop. xxx.). 
 Now God is one (Part i., Prop, xiv., Coroll.). Therefore the idea 
 of God, wherefrom an infinite number of things follow in infinite 
 ways, can only be one. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. V. The actual being of ideas owns God as its cause, 
 only in so jar as he is considered as a thinking thing, not in so far 
 
1 7 o SPINOZA 
 
 as he is unfolded in any other attribute; that is, the ideas both oj 
 the attributes oj God and of particular things do not own as their 
 efficient cause their objects (ideata) or the things perceived, but 
 God himself in so jar as he is a thinking thing. 
 
 Proof. This proposition is evident from Prop. iii. of this 
 Part. We there drew the conclusion, that God can form the idea 
 of his essence, and of all things which follow necessarily there- 
 from, solely because he is a thinking thing, and not because he 
 is the object of his own idea. Wherefore the actual being of ideas 
 owns for cause God, in so far as he is a thinking thing. It may be 
 differently proved as follows: the actual being of ideas is (obvi- 
 ously) a mode of thought, that is (Part L, Prop, xxv., Coroll.) a 
 mode which expresses in a certain manner the nature of God, 
 in so far as he is a thinking thing, and therefore (Part i., Prop, x.) 
 involves the conception of no other attribute of God, and conse- 
 quently (by Part i., Ax. iv.) is not the effect of any attribute save 
 thought. Therefore the actual being of ideas owns God as its 
 cause, in so far as he is considered as a thinking thing, &c. Q.E.D. 
 
 PROP. VI. The modes of any given attribute are caused by God, 
 in so jar as he is considered through the attribute oj which they 
 are modes, and not in so jar as he is considered through any other 
 attribute. 
 
 Proof. Each attribute is conceived through itself, without 
 any other (Part i., Prop, x.) ; wherefore the modes of each attri- 
 bute involve the conception of that attribute, but not of any other. 
 Thus (Part i., Ax. iv.) they are caused by God, only in so far as 
 he is considered through the attribute whose modes they are, and 
 not in so far as he is considered through any other. Q. E. D. 
 
 Corollary. Hence the actual being of things, which are not 
 modes of thought, does not follow from the divine nature, because 
 that nature has prior knowledge of the things. Things repre- 
 sented in ideas follow, and are derived from their particular 
 attribute, in the same manner, and with the same necessity 
 as ideas follow (according to what we have shown) from the 
 attribute of thought. 
 
 PROP. VII. The order and connection oj ideas is the same as the 
 order and connnection oj things. 
 
.THE ETHICS 171 
 
 Proof. This proposition is evident from Part i., Ax. iv. For 
 the idea of everything that is caused depends on a knowledge of 
 the cause, whereof it is an effect. 
 
 Corollary. Hence God's power of thinking is equal to his 
 realized power of action that is, whatsoever follows from the 
 infinite nature of God in the world of extension (jormaliter), 
 follows without exception in the same order and connection from 
 the idea of God in the world of thought (objective). 
 
 Note. Before going any further, I wish to recall to mind 
 what has been pointed out above namely, that whatsoever 
 can be perceived by the infinite intellect as constituting the 
 essence of substance, belongs altogether only to one substance: 
 consequently, substance thinking and substance extended are 
 one and the same substance, comprehended now through one 
 attribute, now through the other. So, also, a mode of extension 
 and the idea of that mode are one and the same thing, though 
 expressed in two ways. This truth seems to have been dimly 
 recognized by those Jews who maintained that God, God's 
 intellect, and the things understood by God are identical. For 
 instance, a circle existing in nature, and the idea of a circle exist- 
 ing, which is also in God, are one and the same thing displayed 
 through different attributes. Thus, whether we conceive nature 
 under the attribute of extension, or under the attribute of thought, 
 or under any other attribute, we shall find the same order, or one 
 and the same chain of causes that is, the same things following 
 in either case. 
 
 I said that God is the cause of an idea, for instance, of the 
 idea of a circle, in so far as he is a thinking thing; and of a 
 circle, in so far as he is an extended thing, simply because the 
 actual being of the idea of a circle can only be perceived as a prox- 
 imate cause through another mode of thinking, and that again 
 through another, and so on to infinity; so that, so long as we con- 
 sider things as modes of thinking, we must explain the order of 
 the whole of nature, or the whole chain of causes, through the ? 
 attribute of thought only. And, in so far as we consider things 
 as modes of extension, we must explain the order of the whole 
 of nature through the attribute of extension only; and so on, 
 
1 72 SPINOZA 
 
 in the case of other attributes. Wherefore of things as they are 
 in themselves God is really the cause, inasmuch as he consists 
 of infinite attributes. I cannot for the present explain my mean- 
 ing more clearly. 
 
 PROP. VIII. The ideas oj particular things, or oj modes, that 
 do not exist, must be comprehended in the infinite idea oj God, 
 in the same way as the formal essences of particular things or 
 modes are contained in the attributes oj God. 
 
 Prooj. This proposition is evident from the last ; it is under- 
 stood more clearly from the preceding note. 
 
 Corollary. Hence, so long as particular things do not exist, 
 except in so far as they are comprehended in the attributes of 
 God, their representations in thought or ideas do not exist, except 
 in so far as the infinite idea of God exists; and when particular 
 things are said to exist, not only in so far as they are involved 
 in the attributes of God, but also in so far as they are said to 
 continue, their ideas will also involve existence, through which 
 they are said to continue. 
 
 PROP. X. The being of substance does not appertain to the 
 essence oj man in other words, substance does not constitute the 
 actual being l oj man. 
 
 Prooj. The being of substance involves necessary existence 
 (Part L, Prop. vii.). If, therefore, the being of substance apper- 
 tains to the essence of man, substance being granted, man would 
 necessarily be granted also (II. Def. ii.), and, consequently, man 
 would necessarily exist, which is absurd (II. Ax. i.). Therefore, 
 &c. Q. E. D. 
 
 Note. This proposition may also be proved from I. v., in 
 which it is shown that there cannot be two substances of the 
 same nature; for as there may be many men, the being of sub- 
 stance is not that which constitutes the actual being of man. 
 Again, the proposition is evident from the other properties of 
 substance namely, that substance is in its nature infinite, 
 immutable, indivisible, &c., as anyone may see for himself. 
 
 Corollary. Hence it follows, that the essence of man is con- 
 stituted by certain modifications of the attributes of God. For 
 
 1 Forma. 
 
THE ETHICS 173 
 
 (by the last Prop.) the being of substance does not belong to 
 the essence of man. That essence therefore (by i. 15) is something 
 which is in God, and which without God can neither be nor be 
 conceived, whether it be a modification (i. 25 Coroll.), or a mode 
 which expresses God's nature in a certain conditioned manner. 
 
 PROP. XI. The first element, which constitutes the actual being 
 o) the human mind, is the idea oj some particular thing actually 
 existing. 
 
 Proof. The essence of man (by the Coroll. of the last Prop.) 
 is constituted by certain modes of the attributes of God, namely 
 (by II. Ax. ii.), by the modes of thinking, of all which (by II. 
 Ax. iii.) the idea is prior in nature, and, when the idea is given, 
 the other modes (namely, those of which the idea is prior in 
 nature) must be in the same individual (by the same Axiom). 
 Therefore an idea is the first element constituting the human 
 mind. But not the idea of a non-existent thing, for then (II. viii. 
 Coroll.) the idea itself cannot be said to exist; it must therefore 
 be the idea of something actually existing. But not of an infi- 
 nite thing. For an infinite thing (I. xxi., xxii.), must always ne- 
 cessarily exist; this would (by II. Ax. i.) involve an absurdity. 
 Therefore the first element, which constitutes the actual being 
 of the human mind, is the idea of something actually existing. 
 Q. E. D. 
 
 Corollary. Hence it follows, that the human mind is part of 
 the infinite intellect of God; thus when we say, that the human 
 mind perceives this or that, we make the assertion, that God 
 has this or that idea, not in so far as he is infinite, but in so far 
 as he is displayed through the nature of the human mind, or in 
 so far as he constitutes the essence of the human mind ; and when 
 we say that God has this or that idea, not only in so far as he con- 
 stitutes the essence of the human mind, but also in so far as he, 
 simultaneously with the human mind, has the further idea of 
 another thing, we assert that the human mind perceives a thing 
 in part or inadequately. 
 
 PROP. XXXII. All ideas, in so jar as they are referred to God, 
 are true. 
 
1 7 4 SPINOZA 
 
 Proof. All ideas which are in God agree in every respect 
 with their objects (II. vii. Coroll.), therefore (I. Ax. vi.) they 
 are all true. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XXXIII. There is nothing positive in ideas, which 
 causes them to be called false. 
 
 Proof. If this be denied, conceive, if possible, a positive 
 mode of thinking, which should constitute the distinctive quality 
 of falsehood. Such a mode of thinking cannot be in God (II. 
 xxxii.); external to God it cannot be or be conceived (I. xv.). 
 Therefore there is nothing positive in ideas which causes them 
 to be called false. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XXXIV. Every idea, which in us is absolute or adequate 
 and perfect, is true. 
 
 Proof. When we say that an idea in us is adequate and 
 perfect, we say, in other words (II. xi. Coroll.)^ that the idea is 
 adequate and perfect in God, in so far as he constitutes the 
 essence of our mind; consequently (II. xxxii.), we say that such 
 an idea is true. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XXXV. Falsity consists in the privation of knowledge, 
 which inadequate, fragmentary, or confused ideas involve. 
 
 Proof. There is nothing positive in ideas, which causes 
 them to be called false (II. xxxiii.); but falsity cannot consist in 
 simple privation (for minds, not bodies, are said to err and to be 
 mistaken), neither can it consist in absolute ignorance, for igno- 
 rance and error are not identical; wherefore it consists in the 
 privation of knowledge, which inadequate, fragmentary, or con- 
 fused ideas involve. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XXXVI. Inadequate and confused ideas follow by the 
 same necessity, as adequate or clear and distinct ideas. 
 
 Proof. All ideas are in God (I. xv.), and in so far as they 
 are referred to God are true (II. xxxii.) and (II. vii. Coroll.) 
 adequate; therefore there are no ideas confused or inadequate, 
 except in respect to a particular mind (cf. II. xxiv. and xxviii.); 
 therefore all ideas, whether adequate or inadequate, follow by 
 the same necessity (II. vi.). Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XL. Whatsoever ideas in the mind follow from ideas 
 which are therein adequate, are also themselves adequate. 
 
THE ETHICS 175 
 
 Proof. This proposition is self-evident. For when we say 
 that an idea in the human mind follows from ideas which are 
 therein adequate, we say, in other words (II. xi. Coroll.), that an 
 idea is in the divine intellect, whereof God is the cause, not in so 
 far as he is infinite, nor in so far as he is affected by the ideas of 
 very many particular things, but only in so far as he constitutes 
 the essence of the human mind. 
 
 Note II. From all that has been said above it is clear, that 
 we, in many cases, perceive and form our general notions: 
 (i) From particular things represented to our intellect fragment- 
 arily, confusedly, and without order through our senses (II. xxix. 
 Coroll.); I have settled to call such perceptions by the name 
 of knowledge from the mere suggestions of experience. (2) From 
 symbols, e. g., from the fact of having read or heard certain 
 words we remember things and form certain ideas concerning 
 them, similar to those through which we imagine things (II. 
 xviii. note). I shall call both these ways of regarding things 
 knowledge of the first kind, opinion, or imagination. (3) From the 
 fact that we have notions common to all men, and adequate ideas 
 of the properties of things (II. xxxviii. Coroll., xxxix. and Coroll. 
 and xl.); this I call reason and knowledge of the second kind. 
 Besides these two kinds of knowledge, there is, as I will hereafter 
 show, a third kind of knowledge, which we will call intuition. 
 This kind of knowledge proceeds from an adequate idea of the# 
 absolute essence of certain attributes of God to the adequate^ 
 knowledge of the essence of things. I will illustrate all three kinds ^~ 
 of knowledge by a single example. Three numbers are given 
 for finding a fourth, which shall be to the third as the second is to 
 the first. Tradesmen without hesitation multiply the second by 
 the third, and divide the product by the first ; either because they 
 have not forgotten the rule which they received from a master 
 without any proof, or because they have often made trial of it 
 with simple numbers, or by virtue of the proof of the nineteenth 
 proposition of the sevgnth-bGO^ olEuclid, namely, in virtue of the 
 general property <? proportionals.^ 
 
 But with very simpfe numbcfsthere is no need of this. For 
 
176 SPINOZA 
 
 instance, one, two, three, being given, everyone can see that the 
 fourth proportional is six; and this is much clearer, because we 
 infer the fourth number from an intuitive grasping of the ratio, 
 which the first bears to the second. 
 
 PROP. XLI. Knowledge oj the -first kind is the only source 
 oj falsity, knowledge of the second and third kinds is necessarily 
 true. 
 
 Proof. To knowledge of the first kind we have (in the fore- 
 going note) assigned all those ideas, which are inadequate and 
 confused; therefore this kind of knowledge is the only source 
 of falsity (II. xxxv.). Furthermore, we assigned to the second 
 and third kinds of knowledge those ideas which, are adequate; 
 therefore these kinds are necessarily true (II. xxxiv.). Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XLIL Knowledge oj the second and third kinds, not 
 knowledge oj the first kind, teaches us to distinguish the true from 
 the false. 
 
 Proof. This proposition is self-evident. He, who knows 
 how to distinguish between true and false, must have an ade- 
 quate idea of true and false. That is (II. xl., note ii.), he must 
 know the true and the false by the second or third kind of know- 
 ledge. 
 
 PROP. XLIII. He, who has a true idea, simultaneously knows 
 that he has a true idea, and cannot doubt oj the truth oj the thing 
 perceived. 
 
 Proof. A true idea in us is an idea which is adequate in 
 God, in so far as he is displayed through the nature of the human 
 mind (II. xi. Coroll). Let us suppose that there is in God, in so 
 far as he is displayed through the human mind, an adequate 
 idea, A. The idea of this idea must also necessarily be in God, 
 and be referred to him in the same way as the idea A (by II, 
 xx., whereof the proof is of universal application). But the idea 
 A is supposed to be referred to God, in so far as he is displayed 
 through the human mind; therefore, the idea of thefdea A must 
 be referred to God in the same manner; that is (by II. xi. 
 Coroll.), the adequate idea of the idea A will be in the mind, 
 which has the adequate idea A ; therefore he, who has an ade- 
 quate idea or knows a thing truly (II. xxxiv.), must at the 
 
THE ETHICS 177 
 
 same time have an adequate idea or true knowledge of his 
 knowledge; that is, obviously, he must be assured. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XLIV. It is not in the nature oj reason to regard things 
 as contingent, but as necessary. 
 
 Proof. It is in the nature of reason to perceive things truly 
 (II. xli.), namely (I. Ax. vi.), as they are in themselves that is 
 (I. xxix.), not as contingent, but as necessary. Q. E. D. 
 
 Corollary I. Hence it follows, that it is only through our 
 imagination that we consider things, whether in respect to the 
 future or the past, as contingent. 
 
 Corollary II. It is in the nature of reason to perceive things 
 under a certain form of eternity (sub quddam ceternitalis specie}. 
 
 Proof. It is in the nature of reason to regard things, not as 
 contingent, but as necessary (II. xliv.). Reason perceives this 
 necessity of things (II. xli.) truly that is (I. Ax. vi.), as it is 
 in itself. But (I. xvi.) this necessity of things is the very neces- 
 sity of the eternal nature of God ; therefore, it is in the nature of 
 reason to regard things under this form of eternity. We may 
 add that the bases of reason are the notions (II. xxxviii.), which 
 answer to things common to all, and which (II, xxxvii.) do not 
 answer to the essence of any particular thing : which must there- 
 fore be conceived without any relation to time, under a certain 
 form of eternity. 
 
 PROP. XLV. Every idea of every body, or of every particular 
 thing actually existing, necessarily involves the eternal and infinite 
 essence of God. 
 
 Proof. The idea of a particular thing actually existing neces- 
 sarily involves both the existence and the essence of the said 
 thing (II. viii.). Now particular things cannot be conceived 
 without God (I. xv.); but, inasmuch as (II. vi.) they have God 
 for their CAiise, in so far as he is regarded under the attribute 
 of which the things in question are modes, their ideas must 
 necessarily involve (I, Ax. iv.) the conception of the attribute of 
 those ideas that is (I. vi.), the eternal and infinite essence of 
 God. Q. E. D. 
 
178 SPINOZA 
 
 Note. By existence I do not here mean duration that 
 is, existence in so far as it is conceived abstractedly, and as a 
 certain form of quantity. I am speaking of the very nature of 
 existence, which is assigned to particular things, because they 
 follow in infinite numbers and in infinite ways from the eternal 
 necessity of God's nature I. (xvi.). I am speaking, I repeat, of 
 the very existence of particular things, in so far as they are in 
 God. For although each particular thing be conditioned by 
 another particular thing to exist in a given way, yet the force 
 whereby each particular thing perseveres in existing follows 
 from the eternal necessity of God's nature (cf. I. xxiv. Coroll.). 
 
 PROP. XL VI. The knowledge oj the eternal and infinite essence 
 of God which every idea involves is adequate and perject. 
 
 Proof. The proof "of the last proposition is universal; and 
 whether a thing be considered as a part or a whole, the idea 
 thereof, whether of the whole or of a part (by the last Prop.), 
 will involve God's eternal and infinite essence. Wherefore, that, 
 which gives knowledge of the eternal and infinite essence of God, 
 is common to all, and is equally in the part and in the whole; 
 therefore (II. xxxviii.) this knowledge will be adequate. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XL VII. The human mind has an adequate knowledge 
 of the eternal and infinite essence of God. 
 
 Proof. The human mind has ideas (II. xxii.), from which 
 (II. xxiii.) it perceives itself and its own body (II. xix.) and ex- 
 ternal bodies (II. xvi. Coroll. I. and II. xvii.) as actually existing; 
 therefore (II. xlv. xlvi.) it has an adequate knowledge of the 
 eternal and infinite essence of God. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XL VIII. In the mind there is no absolute or free will; 
 but the mind is determined to wish this or that by a cause, which 
 has also been determined by another cause, and this last by another 
 cause, and so on to infinity. 
 
 Proof. The mind is a fixed and definite mode of thought 
 (II. xi.), therefore it cannot be the free cause of its actions (I. 
 xvii. Coroll. ii.) ; in other words, it cannot have an absolute faculty 
 of positive or negative volition; but (by I. xxviii.) it must be de- 
 termined by a cause, which has also been determined by another 
 cause, and this last by another, &c. Q. E. D. 
 
THE ETHICS 179 
 
 Note. In the same way it is proved, that there is in the 
 mind no absolute faculty of understanding, desiring, loving, &c. 
 Whence it follows, that these and similar faculties are either 
 entirely fictitious, or are merely abstract or general terms, such as 
 we are accustomed to put together from particular things. . . . 
 
 PROP. XLIX. There is in the mind no volition or affirmation 
 and negation, save that which an idea, inasmuch as it is an idea, 
 involves. 
 
 Proo). There is in the mind no absolute faculty of positive 
 or negative volition, but only particular volitions, namely, this 
 or that affirmation, and this or that negation. Now let us con- 
 ceive a particular volition, namely, the mode of thinking whereby 
 the mind affirms, that the three interior angles of a triangle are 
 equal to two right angles. This affirmation involves the concep- 
 tion or idea of a triangle, that is, without the idea of a triangle 
 it cannot be conceived. It is the same thing to say, that the con- 
 cept A must involve the concept B, as it is to say, that A cannot be 
 conceived without B. Further, this affirmation cannot be made 
 (II. Ax. iii.) without the idea of a triangle. Therefore/ this affir- 
 mation can neither be nor be conceived, without the idea of a 
 triangle. Again, this idea of a triangle must involve this same 
 affirmation, namely, that its three interior angles are equal to 
 two right angles. Wherefore, and vice versa, this idea of a tri- 
 angle can neither be nor be conceived without this affirmation, 
 therefore, this affirmation belongs to the essence of the idea of a 
 triangle, and is nothing besides. W 7 hat we have said of this voli- 
 tion (inasmuch as we have selected it at random) may be said 
 of any other volition, namely, that it is nothing but an idea. 
 Q. E. D. 
 
 Corollary. Will and understanding are one and the same. 
 
 Proof. Will and understanding are nothing beyond the 
 individual volitions and ideas (II. xlviii. and note). But a particu- 
 lar volition and a particular idea are one and the same (by the 
 foregoing Prop.) ; therefore, will and understanding are one and 
 the same. Q. E. D. 
 
 Note. We have thus removed the cause which is commonly 
 assigned for error. For we have shown above, that falsity con- 
 
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 sists solely in the privation of knowledge involved in ideas which 
 are fragmentary and confused. Wherefore, a false idea, inas- 
 much as it is false, does not involve certainty. . . . 
 
 It remains to point out the advantages of a knowledge of this 
 doctrine as bearing on conduct, and this may be easily gathered 
 from what has been said. The doctrine is good, 
 
 1. Inasmuch as it teaches us to act solely according to the 
 decree of God, and to be partakers in the Divine nature, and 
 so much the more, as we perform more perfect actions and more 
 and more understand God. Such a doctrine not only completely 
 tranquillizes our spirit, but also shows us where our highest 
 happiness or blessedness is, namely, solely in the knowledge of 
 God, whereby we are led to act only as love and piety shall bid 
 us. We may thus clearly understand^ how far astray from a true 
 estimate of virtue are those who expect to be decorated by God 
 with high rewards for their virtue, and their best actions, as for 
 having endured the direst slavery; as if virtue and the service of 
 God were not in itself happiness and perfect freedom. 
 
 2. Inasmuch as it teaches us, how we ought to conduct our- 
 selves with respect to the gifts of fortune, or matters which are 
 not in our own power, and do not follow from our nature. For 
 it shows us, that we should await and endure fortune's smiles or 
 frowns with an equal mind, seeing that all things follow from the 
 eternal decree of God by the same necessity, as it follows from 
 the essence of a triangle, that the three angles are equal to two 
 right angles. 
 
 3. This doctrine raises social life, inasmuch as it teaches us 
 to hate no man, neither to despise, to deride, to envy, or to be 
 angry with any. Further, as it tells us that each should be con- 
 tent with his own, and helpful to his neighbour, not from any 
 womanish pity, favour, or superstition, but solely by the guid- 
 ance of reason, according as the time and occasion demand, as I 
 will show in Part III. 
 
 4. Lastly, this doctrine confers no small advantage on the 
 commonwealth; for it teaches how citizens should be governed 
 and led, not so as to become slaves, but so that they may freely 
 do whatsoever things are best. 
 
THE ETHICS 181 
 
 PART V. OF THE POWER OF THE UNDER- 
 STANDING, OR OF HUMAN FREEDOM 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 At length I pass to the remaining portion of my Ethics, which 
 is concerned with the way leading to freedom. I shall therefore 
 treat therein of the power of the reason, showing how far the 
 reason can control the emotions, and what is the nature of Mental 
 Freedom or Blessedness ; we shall then be able to see, how much 
 more powerful the wise man is than the ignorant. It is no part 
 of my design to point out the method and means whereby the 
 understanding may be perfected, nor to show the skill whereby 
 the body may be so tended, as to be capable of the due perform- 
 ance of its functions. The latter question lies in the province of 
 Medicine, the former in the province of Logic. Here, therefore, 
 I repeat, I shall treat only of the power of the mind, or of reason ; 
 and I shall mainly show the extent and nature of its dominion 
 over the emotions, for their control and moderation. 
 
 AXIOMS 
 
 I. If two contrary actions be started in the same subject, a 
 change must necessarily take place, either in both, or in one of 
 the two, and continue until they cease to be contrary. 
 
 II. The power of an effect is defined by the power of its cause, 
 in so far as its essence is explained or defined by the essence of 
 its cause. 
 
 (This axiom is evident from III. vii.) 
 
 PROP. I. Even as thoughts and the ideas of things are arranged 
 and associated in the mind, so are the modifications of body or 
 the images of things precisely in the same way arranged and asso- 
 ciated in the body. 
 
 Proof. The order and connection of ideas is the same 
 (II. vii.) as the order and connection of things, and vice versa 
 the order and connection of things is the same (II. vi. Coroll. 
 and vii.) as the order and connection of ideas. Wherefore, even 
 
182 SPINOZA 
 
 as the order and connection of ideas in the mind takes place 
 according to the order and association of modifications of the 
 body (II. xviii.), so vice versa (III. ii.) the order and connection 
 of modifications of the body takes place in accordance with the 
 manner, in which thoughts and the ideas of things are arranged 
 and associated in the mind. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. II. // we remove a disturbance of the spirit, or emotion, 
 from the thought of an external cause, and unite it to other thoughts, 
 then will the love or hatred towards that external cause, and also the 
 vacillations oj spirit which arise from these emotions, be destroyed. 
 
 Proof. That, which constitutes the reality of love or hatred, 
 is pleasure or pain, accompanied by the idea of an external cause 
 (Def. of the Emotions, vi. vii.); wherefore, when this cause is 
 removed, the reality of love or hatred is removed with it ; there- 
 fore these emotions and those which arise therefrom are de- 
 stroyed. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. III. An emotion, which is a passion, ceases to be a pas- 
 sion, as soon as we form a clear and distinct idea thereof. 
 
 Proof. An emotion, which is a passion, is a confused idea 
 (by the general Def. of the Emotions). If, therefore, we form a 
 clear and distinct idea of a given emotion, that idea will only be 
 distinguished from the emotion, in so far as it is referred to the 
 mind only, by reason (II. xxi. and note); therefore (III. iii.), the 
 emotion will cease to be a passion. Q. E. D. 
 
 Corollary. An emotion therefore becomes more under our 
 control, and the mind is less passive in respect to it, in propor- 
 tion as it is more known to us. 
 
 PROP. IV. There is no modification of the body, whereof we 
 cannot form some clear and distinct conception. 
 
 Proof. Properties which are common to all things can only 
 be conceived adequately (II. xxxviii.); therefore (II. xii. and 
 Lemma ii. after II. xiii.) there is no modification of the body, 
 whereof we cannot form some clear and distinct conception. 
 Q. E. D. 
 
 Corollary. Hence it follows that there is no emotion, whereof 
 we cannot form some clear and distinct conception. For an 
 emotion is the idea of a modification of the body (by the general 
 
THE ETHICS 183 
 
 Def. of the Emotions), and must therefore (by the preceding 
 Prop.) involve some clear and distinct conception. 
 
 Note. Seeing that there is nothing which is not followed 
 by an effect (I. xxxvi.), and that we clearly and distinctly under- 
 stand whatever follows from an idea, which in us is adequate 
 (II. xl.), it follows that everyone has the power of clearly and 
 distinctly understanding himself and his emotions, if not abso- 
 lutely, at any rate in part, and consequently of bringing it about, 
 that he should become less subject to them. To attain this result, 
 therefore, we must chiefly direct our efforts to acquiring, as far 
 as possible, a clear and distinct knowledge of every emotion, in 
 order that the mind may thus, through emotion, be determined to 
 think of those things which it clearly and distinctly perceives, 
 and wherein it fully acquiesces : and thus that the emotion itself 
 may be separated from the thought of an external cause, and may 
 be associated with true thoughts ; whence it will come to pass, not 
 only that love, hatred, &c. will be destroyed (V. ii.), but also 
 that the appetites or desires, which are wont to arise from such 
 emotion, will become incapable of being excessive (IV. IxL). <, . . 
 
 PROP. V. An emotion towards a thing, which we conceive 
 simply, and not as necessary, or as contingent, or as possible, is, 
 other conditions being equal, greater than any other emotion. 
 
 Proof. An emotion towards a thing, which we conceive to 
 be free, is greater than one towards what we conceive to be neces- 
 sary (III. xlix.), and, consequently, still greater than one towards 
 what we conceive as possible, or contingent (IV. xi.). But to con- 
 ceive a thing a.s free can be nothing else than to conceive it sim- 
 ply, while we are in ignorance of the causes whereby it has been 
 determined to action (II. xxxv. note) ; therefore, an emotion to- 
 wards a thing which we conceive simply is, other conditions 
 being equal, greater than one, which we feel towards what is 
 necessary, possible, or contingent, and, consequently, it is the 
 greatest of all. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. VI. The mind has greater power over the emotions and 
 is less subject thereto, in so far as it understands all things as 
 necessary. 
 
 Proof. The mind understands all things to be necessary, 
 
1 84 SPINOZA 
 
 (I. xxix.) and to be determined to existence and operation by 
 an infinite chain of causes; therefore (by the foregoing Propo- 
 sition), it thus far brings it about, that it is less subject to the 
 emotions arising therefrom, and (III. xlviii.) feels less emotion 
 towards the things themselves. Q. E. D. 
 
 Note. The more this knowledge, that things are necessary, 
 is applied to particular things, which we conceive more distinctly 
 and vividly, the greater is the power of the mind over the emo- 
 tions, as experience also testifies. For we see, that the pain aris- 
 ing from the loss of any good is mitigated, as soon as the man 
 who has lost it perceives, that it could not by any means have 
 been preserved. . . . 
 
 PROP. XIV. The mind can bring it about, that all bodily modi- 
 fications or images of things may be referred to the idea of God. 
 
 Proof. There is no modification of the body, whereof the 
 mind may not form some clear and distinct conception (V. iv.); 
 wherefore it can bring it about, that they should all be referred 
 to the idea of God (I. xv.). Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XV. He who clearly and distinctly understands himself 
 and his emotions loves God, and so much the more in proportion 
 as he more understands himself and his emotions. 
 
 Proof. He who clearly and distinctly understands himself 
 and his emotions feels pleasure (III. liii.), and this pleasure is 
 (by the last Prop.) accompanied by the idea of God; therefore 
 (Def. of the Emotions, vi.) such an one loves God, and (for the 
 same reason) so much the more in proportion as he more under- 
 stands himself and his emotions. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XVI. This love towards God must hold the chief place 
 in the mind. 
 
 Proof. For this love is associated with all the modifications 
 of the body (V. xiv.) and is fostered by them all (V. xv.) ; therefore 
 (V. xi.), it must hold the chief place in the mind. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XVII. God is without passions, neither is he affected 
 by any emotion of pleasure or pain. 
 
 Proof. All ideas, in so far as they are referred tcr God, are 
 true (II. xxxii.), that is (II. Def. iv.) adequate; and therefore 
 (by the general Def. of the Emotions) God is without passions. 
 
THE ETHICS 185 
 
 Again, God cannot pass either to a greater or to a lesser perfec- 
 tion (I. xx. Coroll. ii.); therefore (by Def. of the Emotions, ii. 
 Hi.) he is not affected by any emotion of pleasure or pain. 
 
 Corollary. Strictly speaking, God does not love or hate 
 anyone. For God (by the foregoing Prop.) is not affected by any 
 emotion of pleasure or pain, consequently (Def. of the Emo- 
 tions, vi. vii.) he does not love or hate anyone. 
 
 PROP. XVIII. No one can hate God. 
 
 Proof. The idea of God which is in us is adequate and per- 
 fect (II. xlvi., xlvii.) ; wherefore, in so far as we contemplate God, 
 we are active (III. iii.); consequently (III. lix.) there can be no 
 pain accompanied by the idea of God, in other words (Def. of 
 the Emotions, vii.), no one can hate God. Q. E. D. 
 
 Corollary. Love towards God cannot be turned into hate. 
 
 Note. It may be objected that, as we understand God as 
 the cause of all things, we by that very fact regard God as the 
 cause of pain. But I make answer, that, in so far as we under- 
 stand the causes of pain, it to that extent (V. iii.) ceases to be a 
 passion, that is, it ceases to be pain (III. lix.) ; therefore, in so far 
 as we understand God to be the cause of pain, we to that extent 
 feel pleasure. 
 
 PROP. XIX. He, who loves God, cannot endeavour that God 
 should love him in return. 
 
 Proof. For, if a man should so endeavour, he would desire 
 (V. xvii. Coroll.) that God, whom he loves, should not be God, 
 and consequently he would desire to feel pain (III. xix.) ; which 
 is absurd (III. xxviii.). Therefore, he who loves God, &c. 
 Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XX. This love towards God cannot be stained by the 
 emotion of envy or jealousy: contrariwise, it is the more fostered, 
 in proportion as we conceive a greater number of men to be joined 
 to God by the same bond of love. 
 
 Proof. This love towards God is the highest good which 
 we can seek for under the guidance of reason (IV. xxviii.), it is 
 common to all men (IV. xxxvi.), and we desire that all should 
 rejoice therein (IV. xxxvii.); therefore (Def. of the Emotions, 
 xxiii.), it cannot be stained by the emotion of envy, nor by the 
 
186 SPINOZA 
 
 emotion of jealousy (V. xviii., see definition of Jealousy, III. 
 xxxv. note); but, contrariwise, it must needs be the more fos- 
 tered, in proportion as we conceive a greater number of men to 
 rejoice therein. Q. E. D. 
 
 Note. We can in the same way show, that there is no 
 emotion directly contrary to this love, whereby this love can be 
 destroyed ; therefore we may conclude, that this love towards God 
 is the most constant of all the emotions, and that, in so far as it 
 is referred to the body, it cannot be destroyed, unless the body 
 be destroyed also. As to its nature, in so far as it is referred to 
 the mind only, we shall presently inquire. 
 
 I have now gone through all the remedies against the emo- 
 tions, or all that the mind, considered in itself alone, can do 
 against them. Whence it appears that the mind's power over 
 the emotions consists : 
 
 I. In the actual knowledge of the emotions (V. iv. note). 
 
 II. In the fact that it separates the emotions from the thought 
 of an external cause, which we conceive confusedly (V. ii. and iv. 
 note). 
 
 III. In the fact, that, in respect to time, the emotions referred 
 to things, which we distinctly understand, surpass those referred 
 to what we conceive in a confused and fragmentary manner 
 (V. vii.). 
 
 IV. In the number of causes whereby those modifications l 
 are fostered, which have regard to the common properties of 
 things or to God (V. ix. xi.). 
 
 V. Lastly, in the order wherein the mjnd^cjjiarrange and 
 associate, one with another, its own emotions (V. x. note and xii. 
 xiii. xiv.). 
 
 But, in order that this power of the mind over the emotions 
 may be better understood, it should be specially observed that 
 the emotions are called by us strong, when we compare the emo- 
 tion of one man with the emotion of another, and see that one 
 man is more troubled than another by the same emotion ; or when 
 we are comparing the various emotions of the same man one with 
 another, and find that he is more affected or stirred by one emo- 
 
 1 Affectiones. Camerer reads aftectus, emotions. 
 
THE ETHICS 187 
 
 tion than by another. For the strength of every emotion is de- 
 nned by a comparison of our own power with the power of an 
 external cause. Now the power of the mind is denned by know- 
 ledge only, and its infirmity or passion is defined by the privation 
 of knowledge only: it therefore follows, that that mind is most 
 passive, whose greatest part is made up of inadequate ideas, so 
 that it may be characterized more readily by its passive states 
 than by its activities : on the other hand, that mind is most active, 
 whose greatest part is made up of adequate ideas, so that, al- 
 though it may contain as many inadequate ideas as the former 
 mind, it may yet be more easily characterized by ideas attribut- 
 able to human virtue, than by ideas which tell of human infirmity. 
 Again, it must be observed, that spiritual unhealthiness and mis- 
 fortunes can generally be traced to excessive love for something 
 which is subject to many variations, and which we can never 
 become masters of. For no one is solicitous or anxious about any- 
 thing, unless he loves it ; neither do wrongs, suspicions, enmities, 
 &c. arise, except in regard to things whereof no one can be really 
 master. 
 
 We may thus readily conceive the power which clear and dis- 
 tinct knowledge, and especially that third kind of knowledge 
 (II. xlvii. note), founded on the actual knowledge of God, pos- 
 sesses over the emotions : if it does not absolutely destroy them, 
 in so far as they are passions (V. iii. and iv. note) ; at any rate, 
 it causes them to occupy a very small part of the mind (V. xiv.). 
 Further, it begets a love towards a thing immutable and eternal 
 (V. xv.), whereof we may really enter into possession (II. xlv.); 
 neither can it be defiled with those faults which are inherent in 
 ordinary love ; but it may grow from strength to strength, and may 
 engross the greater part of the mind, and deeply penetrate it. 
 
 And now I have finished with all that concerns this present 
 life: for, as I said in the beginning of this note, I have briefly 
 described all the remedies against the emotions. And this every 
 one may readily have seen for himself, if he has attended to what 
 is advanced in the present note, and also to the definitions of the 
 mind and its emotions, and, lastly, to Propositions i. and iii. of 
 Part III. It is now, therefore, time to pass on to those matters, 
 
i88 SPINOZA 
 
 which appertain to the duration of the mind, without relation to 
 the body. 
 
 PROP. XXI. The mind can only imagine anything, or remem- 
 ber what is past, while the body endures. 
 
 Proof. The mind does not express the actual existence of 
 its body, nor does it imagine the modifications of the body as 
 actual, except while the body endures (II. viii. Coroll.) ; and, con- 
 sequently (II. xxvi.), it does not imagine any body as actually 
 existing, except while its own body endures. Thus it cannot 
 imagine anything (for definition of Imagination, see II. xvii. 
 note), or remember things past, except while the body endures 
 (see definition of Memory, II. xviii. note). Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XXII. Nevertheless in God there is necessarily an idea, 
 which expresses the essence 0} 4his or that human body under the 
 form of eternity. 
 
 Proof. God is the cause, not only of the existence of this or 
 that human body, but also of its essence (I. xxv.). This essence, 
 therefore, must necessarily be conceived through the very essence 
 of God (I. Ax. iv.), and be thus conceived by a certain eternal 
 necessity (I. xvi.); and this conception must necessarily exist in 
 God (II. in.). Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XXIII. The human mind cannot be absolutely destroyed 
 with the body, but there remains of it something which is eternal. 
 
 Proof. There is necessarily in God a concept or idea, which 
 expresses the essence of the human body (last Prop.), which, 
 therefore, is necessarily something appertaining to the essence 
 of the human mind (II. xiii.). But we have not assigned to the 
 human mind any duration, definable by time, except in so far 
 as it expresses the actual existence of the body, which is explained 
 through duration, and may be defined by time that is (II. viii. 
 Coroll.), we do not assign to it duration, except while the body 
 endures. Yet, as there is something, notwithstanding, which is 
 conceived by a certain eternal necessity through the very essence 
 of God (last Prop.), this something, which appertains to the 
 essence of the mind, will necessarily be eternal. Q. E. D. 
 
 Note. This idea, which expresses the essence of the body 
 under the form of eternity, is, as we have said, a certain mode 
 
THE ETHICS 189 
 
 of thinking, which belongs to the essence of the mind, and is 
 necessarily eternal. Yet it is not possible that we should remem- 
 ber that we existed before our body, for our body can bear no 
 trace of such existence, neither can eternity be denned in terms 
 of time, or have any relation to time. But, notwithstanding, we 
 feel and know that we are eternal. For the mind feels those 
 'things that it conceives by understanding, no less than those 
 things that it remembers. For the eyes of the mind, whereby it 
 sees and observes things, are none other than proofs. Thus, 
 although we do not remember that we existed before the body, 
 yet we feel that our mind, in so far as it involves the essence of 
 the body, under the form of eternity, is eternal, and that thus 
 its existence cannot be denned in terms of time, or explained 
 through duration. Thus our mind can only be said to endure, 
 and its existence can only be defined by a fixed time, in so far 
 as it involves the actual existence of the body. Thus far only has 
 it the power of determining the existence of things by time, and 
 conceiving them under the category of duration. 
 
 PROP. XXIV. The more we understand particular things, the 
 more do we understand God. 
 
 Proof. This is evident from I. xxv. Coroll. 
 
 PROP. XXV. The highest endeavour of the mind, and the 
 highest virtue is to understand things by the third kind of know- 
 ledge. 
 
 Proof. The third kind of knowledge proceeds from an ade- 
 quate idea of certain attributes of God to an adequate know- 
 ledge of the essence of things (see its definition II. xl. note ii.); 
 and, in proportion as we understand things more in this way, 
 we better understand God (by the last Prop.); therefore (IV. 
 xxviii.) the highest virtue of the mind, that is (IV. Def. viii.) the 
 power, or nature, or (III. vii.) highest endeavour of the mind, is 
 to understand things by the third kind of knowledge. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XXVI. In proportion as the mind is more capable of 
 understanding things by the third kind of knowledge, it desires 
 more to understand things by that kind. 
 
 Proof. This is evident. For, in so far as we conceive the 
 mind to be capable of conceiving things by this kind of know- 
 
i 9 o SPINOZA 
 
 ledge, we, to that extent, conceive it as determined thus to con- 
 ceive things; and consequently (Def. of the Emotions, L), the 
 mind desires so to do, in proportion as it is more capable thereof. 
 \>. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XXVII. Fom this third kind oj knowledge arises the 
 highest possible mental acquiescence. 
 
 Proof. The highest virtue of the mind is to know God (IV. 
 xxviii.), or to understand things by the third kind of knowledge 
 (V. xxv.), and this virtue is greater in proportion as the mind 
 knows things more by the said kind of knowledge (V. xxiv.) : 
 consequently, he who knows things by this kind of knowledge 
 passes to the summit of human perfection, and is therefore 
 (Def. of the Emotions, ii.) affected by the highest pleasure, 
 such pleasure being accompanied by the idea of himself and 
 his own virtue; thus (Def. of the Emotions, xxv.), from this kind 
 of knowledge arises the highest possible acquiescence. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XXVIII. The endeavour or desire to know things by 
 the third kind oj knowledge cannot arise from the first, but from 
 the second kind of knowledge. 
 
 Proof. This proposition is self-evident. For whatsoever we 
 understand clearly and distinctly, we understand either through 
 itself, or through that which is conceived through itself; that is, 
 ideas which are clear and distinct in us, or which are referred 
 to the third kind of knowledge (II. xl. note ii.) cannot follow 
 from ideas that are fragmentary and confused, and are referred 
 to knowledge of the first kind, but must follow from adequate 
 ideas, or ideas of the second and third kind of knowledge ; there- 
 fore (Def. of the Emotions, i.), the desire of knowing things by 
 the third kind of knowledge cannot arise from the first, but from 
 the second kind. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XXIX. Whatsoever the mind understands under the 
 form of eternity, it does not understand by virtue of conceiving the 
 present actual existence of the body, but by virtue of conceiving 
 the essence of the body under the form of eternity. 
 
 Proof. In so far as the mind conceives the present existence 
 of its body, it to that extent conceives duration which can be 
 determined by time, and to that extent only has it the power 
 
THE ETHICS 191 
 
 of conceiving things in relation to time (V. xxi. II. xxvi.). But 
 eternity cannot be explained in terms of duration (I. Def. viii. 
 and explanation). Therefore to this extent the mind has not the 
 power of conceiving things under the form of eternity, but it 
 possesses such power, because it is of the nature of reason to 
 conceive things under the form of eternity (II. xliv. Coroll. ii.), 
 and also because it is of the nature of the mind to conceive the 
 essence of the body under the form of eternity (V. xxiii.), for 
 besides these two there is nothing which belongs to the essence 
 of mind (II. xiii.). Therefore this power of conceiving things 
 under the form of eternity only belongs to the mind in virtue of 
 the mind's conceiving the essence of the body under the form 
 of eternity. Q. E. D. 
 
 Note. Things are conceived by us as actual in two ways ; 
 either as existing in relation to a given time and place, or as con- 
 tained in God and following from the necessity of the divine 
 nature. Whatsoever we conceive in this second way as true or 
 real, we conceive under the form of eternity, and their ideas 
 involve the eternal and infinite essence of God,- as we showed in 
 II. xlv. and note, which see. 
 
 PROP. XXX. Our mind, in so far as it knows itself and the 
 body under the form of eternity, has to that extent necessarily a 
 knowledge of God, and knows that it is in God, and is conceived 
 through God. 
 
 Proof. Eternity is the very essence of God, in so far as this 
 involves necessary existence (I. Def. viii.). Therefore to con- 
 ceive things under the form of eternity, is to conceive things in so 
 far as they are conceived through the essence of God as real enti- 
 ties, or in so far as they involve existence through the essence of 
 God ; wherefore our mind, in so far as it conceives itself and the 
 body under the form of eternity, has to that extent necessarily a 
 knowledge of God, and knows, &c. Q. E. D. 
 
 PROP. XXXI. The third kind of knowledge depends on the 
 mind, as its formal cause, in so far as the mind itself is eternal. 
 
 Proof. The mind does not conceive anything under the form 
 of eternity, except in so far as it conceives its own body under 
 the form of eternity (V. xxix.); that is, except in so far as it is 
 
192 
 
 SPINOZA 
 
 eternal (V. xxi. xxiii.); therefore (by the last Prop.), in so far as 
 it is eternal, it possesses the knowledge of God, which knowledge 
 is necessarily adequate (II. xlvi.); hence the mind, in so far as 
 it is eternal, is capable of knowing everything which can follow 
 from this given knowledge of God (II. xl.), in other words, of 
 knowing things by the third kind of knowledge (see Def. in II. 
 xl. note ii.), whereof accordingly the mind (III. Def. i.), in so 
 far as it is eternal, is the adequate or formal cause of such know- 
 ledge. Q. E. D. 
 
 Note. In proportion, therefore, as a man is more potent in 
 this kind of knowledge, he will be more completely conscious 
 of himself and of God; in other words, he will be more perfect 
 and blessed, as will appear more clearly in the sequel. . . . 
 
 PROP. XXXII. Whatsoever we understand by the third kind 
 of knowledge, we take delight in, and our delight is accompanied 
 by the idea of God as cause. 
 
 Proof. From this kind of knowledge arises the highest pos- 
 sible mental acquiescence, that is (Def. of the Emotions, xxv.), 
 pleasure, and this acquiescence is accompanied by the idea of the 
 mind itself (V. xxvii.), and consequently (V. xxx.) the idea also 
 of God as cause. Q. E. D. 
 
 Corollary. From the third kind of knowledge necessarily 
 arises the intellectual love of God. From this kind of knowledge 
 arises pleasure accompanied by the idea of God as cause, that 
 is (Def. of the Emotions, vi.), the love of God; not in so far as we 
 imagine him as present (V. xxix.), but in so far as we understand 
 him to be eternal; this is what I call the intellectual love of God. 
 
 PROP. XXXIII. The intellectual love of God, which arises from 
 the third kind of knowledge, is eternal. 
 
 Proof. The third kind of knowledge is eternal (V. xxxi. I. 
 Ax. iii.); therefore (by the same Axiom) the love which arises 
 therefrom is also necessarily eternal. Q. E. D. 
 
 Note. Although this love towards God has (by the foregoing 
 Prop.) no beginning, it yet possesses all the perfections of love, 
 just as though it had arisen as we feigned in the Coroll. of the 
 last Prop. Nor is there here any difference, except that the mind 
 possesses as eternal those same perfections which we feigned to 
 
THE ETHICS 193 
 
 accrue to it, and they are accompanied by the idea of God as 
 eternal cause. If pleasure consists in the transition to a greater 
 perfection, assuredly blessedness must consist in the mind being 
 endowed with perfection itself. 
 
 PROP. XXXIV. The mind is, only while the body endures, 
 subject to those emotions which are attributable to passions. 
 
 Proof. Imagination is the idea wherewith the mind con- 
 templates a thing as present (II. xvii. note); yet this idea indi- 
 cates rather the present disposition of the human body than the 
 nature of the external thing (II. xvi. Coroll. ii.). Therefore emo- 
 tion (see general Def. of Emotions) is imagination, in so far as it 
 indicates the present disposition of the body; therefore (V. xxi.) 
 the mind is, only while the body endures, subject to emotions 
 which are attributable to passions. Q.E.D. 
 
 Corollary. Hence it follows that no love save intellectual love 
 is eternal. 
 
 Note. If we look to men's general opinion, we shall see that 
 they are indeed conscious of the eternity of their mind, but that 
 they confuse eternity with duration, and ascribe it to the imagina- 
 tion of the memory which they believe to remain after death. 
 
 PROP. XXXV. God loves himself with an infinite intellectual 
 love. 
 
 Proof. God is absolutely infinite (I. Def. vi.), that is (II. 
 Def. vi.), the nature of God rejoices in infinite perfection; and 
 such rejoicing is (II. iii.) accompanied by the idea of himself, 
 that is (I. xi. and Def. i.), the idea of his own cause: now this is 
 what we have (in V. xxxii. Coroll.) described as intellectual love. 
 
 PROP. XXXVI. The intellectual love of the mind towards 
 God is that very love of God whereby God loves himself, not in 
 so jar as he is infinite, but in so far as he can be explained through 
 the essence of the human mind regarded under the form of eternity; 
 in other words, the intellectual love of the mind towards God is part 
 of the infinite love wherewith God loves himself. 
 
 Proof. This love of the mind must be referred to the activ- 
 ities of the mind (V. xxxii. Coroll. and III. iii.) ; it is itself, indeed, 
 an activity whereby the mind regards itself accompanied by the 
 idea of God as cause (V. xxxii. and Coroll.); that is (I. xxv. 
 
194 
 
 SPINOZA 
 
 Coroll. and II. xi. Coroll.), an activity whereby God, in so far 
 as he can be explained through the human mind, regards himself 
 accompanied by the idea of himself; therefore (by the last Prop.), 
 this love of the mind is part of the infinite love wherewith God 
 loves himself. Q. E. D. 
 
 Corollary. Hence it follows that God, in so far as he loves 
 himself, loves man, and, consequently, that the love of God 
 towards men, and the intellectual love of the mind towards 
 God are identical. 
 
 PROP. XXXVII. There is nothing in nature, "which is contrary 
 to this intellectual love, or which can take it away. 
 
 Proof. This intellectual love follows necessarily from the 
 nature of the mind, in so far as the latter is regarded through the 
 nature of God as an eternal truth (V. xxxiii. and xxix.). If, there- 
 fore, there should be anything which would be contrary to this 
 love, that thing would be contrary to that which is true; conse- 
 quently, that, which should be able to take away this love, would 
 cause that which is true to be false; an obvious absurdity. 
 Therefore there is nothing in nature which &c. Q. E. D. 
 
 Note. The Axiom of Part IV. has reference to particular 
 things, in so far as they are regarded in relation to a given time 
 and place : of this, I think, no one can doubt. 
 
 PROP. XXXVIII. In proportion as the mind understands 
 more things by the second and third kind of knowledge, it is less 
 subject to those emotions which are evil, and stands in less jear of 
 death. 
 
 Proof. The mind's essence consists in knowledge (II. xi.); 
 therefore, in proportion as the mind understands more things 
 by the second and third kinds of knowledge, the greater will be 
 the part of it that endures (V. xxix. and xxiii.), and, consequently 
 (by the last Prop.), the greater will be the part that is not touched 
 by the emotions, which are contrary to our nature, or in other 
 words, evil (IV. xxx.). Thus, in proportion as the mind under- 
 stands more things by the second and third kinds of knowledge, 
 the greater will be the part of it that remains unimpaired, and, 
 consequently, less subject to emotions, &c. Q. E. D. 
 
 Note. Hence we understand that point which I touched 
 
THE ETHICS 195 
 
 on in IV. xxxix. note, and which I promised to explain in this 
 Part; namely, that death becomes less hurtful, in proportion 
 as the mind's clear and distinct knowledge is greater, and, con- 
 sequently, in proportion as the mind loves God more. Again, 
 since from the third kind of knowledge arises the highest possible 
 acquiescence (V. xxvii.), it follows that the human mind can at- 
 tain to being of such a nature, that the part thereof which we 
 have shown to perish with the body (V. xxi.) should be of little 
 importance when compared with the part which endures. But I 
 will soon treat of the subject at greater length. 
 
 PROP. XXXIX. He, who possesses a body capable of the great- 
 est number of activities, possesses a mind whereoj the greatest 
 part is eternal. 
 
 Proof. He, who possesses a body capable of the greatest 
 number of activities, is least agitated by those emotions which 
 are evil (IV. xxxviii.) that is (IV. xxx.), by those emotions 
 which are contrary to our nature; therefore (V. x.), he possesses 
 the power of arranging and associating the modifications of the 
 body according to the intellectual order, and, consequently, of 
 bringing it about, that all the modifications of the body should 
 be referred to the idea of God ; whence it will come to pass that 
 (V. xv.) he will be affected with love towards God, which (V. xvi.) 
 must occupy or constitute the chief part of the mind; therefore 
 (V. xxxiii.), such a man will possess a mind whereof the chief 
 part is eternal. Q. E. D. 
 
 Note. Since human bodies are capable of the greatest num- 
 ber of activities, there is no doubt but that they may be of such 
 a nature, that they may be referred to minds possessing a great 
 knowledge of themselves and of God, and whereof the greatest 
 or chief part is eternal, and, therefore, that they should scarcely 
 fear death. But, in order that this may be understood more 
 clearly, we must here call to mind, that we live in a state of 
 perpetual variation, and, according as we are changed for the 
 better or the worse, we are called happy or unhappy. 
 
 PROP. XL. In proportion as each thing possesses more of per- 
 fection, so is it more active and less passive; and, vice versa, in 
 proportion as it is more active, so is it more perfect. 
 
196 SPINOZA 
 
 Proof. In proportion as each thing is more perfect, it pos- 
 sesses more of reality (II. Def. vi.), and, consequently (III. 
 iii. and note), it is to that extent more active and less passive. 
 This demonstration may be reversed, and thus prove that, 
 in proportion as a thing is more active, so is it more perfect. 
 Q. E. D. 
 
 Corollary. Hence it follows that the part of the mind which 
 endures, be it great or small, is more perfect than the rest. For 
 the eternal part of the mind (V. xxiii. xxix.) is the understanding, 
 through which alone we are said to act (III. iii.); the part which 
 we have shown to perish is the imagination (V. xxi.), through 
 which only we are said to be passive (III. iii. and general Def. 
 of the Emotions) ; therefore, the former, be it great or small, is 
 more perfect than the latter. Q. E. D. 
 
 Note. Such are the doctrines which I had purposed to set 
 forth concerning the mind, in so far as it is regarded without rela- 
 tion to the body; whence, as also from I. xxi. and other places, 
 it is plain that our mind, in so far as it understands, is an eternal 
 mode of thinking, which is determined by another eternal mode 
 of thinking, and this other by a third, and so on to infinity; so 
 that all taken together at once constitute the eternal and infinite 
 intellect of God. 
 
 PROP. XLI. Even if we did not know that our mind is eternal, 
 we should still consider as of primary importance piety and religion, 
 and generally all things which, in Part IV., we showed to be attrib- 
 utable to courage and high-mindedness. 
 
 Proof. The first and only foundation of virtue, or the rule 
 of right living is (IV. xxii. Coroll. and xxiv.) seeking one's own 
 true interest. Now, while we determined what reason prescribes 
 as useful, we took no account of the mind's eternity, which has 
 only become known to us in this Fifth Part. Although we were 
 ignorant at that time that the mind is eternal, we nevertheless 
 stated that the qualities attributable to courage and high-minded- 
 ness are of primary importance. Therefore, even if we were still 
 ignorant of this doctrine, we should yet put the aforesaid precepts 
 of reason in the first place. Q. E. D. 
 
 Note. The general belief of the multitude seems to be dif- 
 
THE ETHICS 197 
 
 ferent. Most people seem to believe that they are free, in so far 
 as they may obey their lusts, and that they cede their rights, in 
 so far as they are bound to live according to the commandments 
 of the divine law. They therefore believe that piety, religion, 
 and, generally, all things attributable to firmness of mind, are 
 burdens, which, after death, they hope to lay aside, and to receive 
 the reward for their bondage, that is, for their piety and religion ; 
 it is not only by this hope, but also, and chiefly, by the fear of 
 being horribly punished after death, that they are induced to live 
 according to the divine commandments, so far as their feeble and 
 infirm spirit will carry them. 
 
 If men had not this hope and this fear, but believed that the 
 mind perishes with the body, and that no hope of prolonged life 
 remains for the wretches who are broken down with the burden 
 of piety, they would return to their own inclinations, controlling 
 everything in accordance with their lusts, and desiring to obey 
 fortune rather than themselves. Such a course appears to me not 
 less absurd than if a man, because he does not believe that he can 
 by wholesome food sustain his body for ever, should wish to cram 
 himself with poisons and deadly fare ; or if, because he sees that 
 the mind is not eternal or immortal, he should prefer to be out of 
 his mind altogether, and to live without the use of reason ; these 
 ideas are so absurd as to be scarcely worth refuting. 
 
 PROP. XLII. Blessedness is not the reward of virtue, but virtue 
 itself; neither do we rejoice therein, because we control our lusts, 
 but, contrariwise, because we rejoice therein, we are able to control 
 our lusts. 
 
 Proof. Blessedness consists in love towards God (V. xxxvi. 
 and note), which love springs from the third kind of knowledge 
 (V. xxxii. Coroll.); therefore this love (III. iii. lix.) must be re- 
 ferred to the mind, in so far as the latter is active; therefore 
 (IV. Def. viii.) it is virtue itself. This was our first point. Again, 
 in proportion as the mind rejoices more in this divine love or 
 blessedness, so does it the more understand (V. xxxii.); that is 
 (V. iii. Coroll.) so much the more power has it over the emotions, 
 and (V. xxxviii.) so much the less is it subject to those emotions 
 which are evil ; therefore, in proportion as the mind rejoices in this 
 
198 SPINOZA 
 
 divine love or blessedness, so has it the power of controlling lusts. 
 And, since human power in controlling the emotions consists 
 solely in the understanding, it follows that no one rejoices in 
 blessedness, because he has controlled his lusts, but, contrariwise, 
 his power of controlling his lusts arises from this blessedness itself. 
 Q. E. D. 
 
 Note. I have thus completed all I wished to set forth touch- 
 ing the mind's power over the emotions and the mind's freedom. 
 Whence it appears, how potent is the wise man, and how much 
 he surpasses the ignorant man, who is driven only by his lusts. 
 For the ignorant man is not only distracted in various ways by 
 external causes without ever gaining the true acquiescence of his 
 spirit, but moreover lives, as it were unwitting of, himself, and of 
 God, and of things, and as soon as he ceases to suffer, ceases also 
 to be. 
 
 Whereas the wise man, in so far as he is regarded as such, 
 is scarcely at all disturbed in spirit, but, being conscious of him- 
 self, and of God, and of things, by a certain eternal necessity, 
 never ceases to be, but always possesses true acquiescence of his 
 spirit. 
 
 If the way which I have pointed out as leading to this result 
 seems exceedingly hard, it may nevertheless be discovered. Needs 
 must it be hard, since it is so seldom found. How would it be pos- 
 sible, if salvation were ready to our hand, and could without 
 great labour be found, that it should be by almost all men ne- 
 glected ? But all things excellent are as difficult as they are rare. 
 
GOTTFRIED WILHELM VON LEIBNITZ 
 
 (1646-1716) 
 
 THE MONADOLOGY 
 
 Translated from the French * by 
 FREDERIC HENRY HEDGE 
 
 i. THE Monad, of which we shall here speak, is merely a sim- 
 ple substance entering into those which are compound ; simple, 
 that is to say, without parts. 
 
 2. And there must be simple substances, since there are com- 
 pounds; for the compound is only a collection or aggregation of 
 simple things. 
 
 3. Where there are no parts, neither extension nor figure, nor 
 divisibility is possible ; and these Monads are the veritable atoms 
 of nature and, in a word, the elements of things. 
 
 4. There is thus no danger of dissolution, and there is no con- 
 ceivable way in which a simple substance can perish naturally. 
 
 5. For the same reason, there is no way in which a simple sub- 
 stance can begin naturally, since it could not be formed by com- 
 position. 
 
 6. Therefore we may say that the Monads can neither begin 
 nor end in any other way than all at once ; that is to say, they 
 cannot begin except by creation, nor end except by annihilation ; 
 whereas that which is compounded, begins and ends by parts. 
 
 7. There is also no intelligible way in which a Monad can be 
 altered or changed in its interior by any other created thing; 
 since it would be impossible to transpose anything in it, or con- 
 ceive in it any internal movement which could be excited, di- 
 rected, augmented or diminished within, such as may take place 
 
 * La Monadologie, 1714 ; in Opera Philosophica, edited by J. E. Erdmann, 
 Berlin, 1840. The English translation is here reprinted, with occasional minor 
 changes, from The Journal of Speculative Philosophy, edited by William T. 
 Harris, i, 1867, pp. 129-137 ; id., F. H. Hedge's Atheism in Philosophy, and 
 other Essays, Boston, Roberts Brothers, 1884, pp. 245-273. 
 
200 LEIBNITZ 
 
 in compound bodies, where there is change of parts. The Monads 
 have no windows through which anything can enter or go forth. 
 It would be impossible for any accidents to detach themselves 
 and go forth from the substances, as did formerly the " sensible 
 species " of the Schoolmen. Accordingly, neither substance nor 
 accident can enter a Monad from without. 
 
 8. Nevertheless Monads must have qualities, otherwise they 
 would not even be entities. And if simple substances did not dif- 
 fer in their qualities, there would be no means by which we could 
 become aware of the changes of things, since all that is in com- 
 pound bodies is derived from simple ingredients, and Monads, 
 if they were without qualities, would be indistinguishable one 
 from another, since they do not differ in quantity. Consequently, 
 a plenum being supposed, each part of space could in any move- 
 ment receive only the just equivalent of what it had had before, 
 and one state of things would be indistinguishable from another. 
 
 9. Moreover, each Monad must differ from every other, for 
 there are never two beings in nature perfectly alike, and in which 
 it is impossible to find an internal difference, or one founded on 
 some intrinsic denomination. 
 
 10. I assume, furthermore, that every created being, and con- 
 sequently the created Monad, is subject to change; and likewise 
 that this change is continual in each. 
 
 11. It follows, from what we have now said, that the natural 
 changes of Monads proceed from an internal principle, since 
 no external cause can influence their interior. 
 
 12. But, besides the principle of change, there must also be a 
 detail of that which changes [un detail de ce qui change}, which 
 constitutes, so to speak, the specific nature and the variety of the 
 simple substances. 
 
 13. This detail must involve multiplicity in the unit [unite] or 
 in that which is simple. For, as all natural changes proceed by 
 degrees, something changes and something remains unchanged, 
 and consequently there must be in the simple substance a plural- 
 ity of affections and relations, although there are no parts. 
 
 14. This shifting state, which involves and represents multi- 
 plicity in the unit, or in the simple substance, is nothing but what 
 
THE MONADOLOGY 201 
 
 we call Perception, which must be carefully distinguished from 
 apperception, or consciousness, as will appear in the sequel. 
 Here it is that the Cartesians have especially failed, making no 
 account of those perceptions of which we are not conscious. It 
 is this that has led them to suppose that spirits are the only 
 Monads, and that there are no souls of brutes or other entel- 
 echies. It is owing to this that they have vulgarly confounded 
 protracted torpor with actual death, and have fallen in with the 
 scholastic prejudice, which believes in souls entirely separate 
 [from bodies]. For this reason, also, ill-affected minds have been 
 confirmed in the opinion that the soul is mortal. 
 
 15. The action of the internal principle which causes the 
 change, or the passage from one perception to another, may be 
 called Appetition. It is true, the desire cannot always completely 
 attain to every perception to which it tends, but it always attains 
 to something thereof, and arrives at new perceptions. 
 
 1 6. We experience in ourselves the fact of a multiplicity in the 
 simple substance, when we find that the least thought of which 
 we are conscious includes a variety in its object. Accordingly, all 
 who admit that the soul is a simple substance, are bound to admit 
 this multiplicity in the Monad, and M. Bayle should not have 
 found any difficulty in this admission, as he has done in his 
 Dictionary, article " Rorarius." 
 
 17. Besides, it must be confessed that Perception and its 
 consequences are inexplicable by mechanical causes, that is to 
 say, by figures and motions. If we imagine a machine so con- 
 structed as to produce thought, sensation and perception, we 
 may conceive it as magnified the same proportions being pre- 
 served to such an extent that one might enter it like a mill. 
 This being supposed, we should find in it on inspection only 
 pieces which impel each other, but nothing which can explain a 
 perception. It is in the simple substance, therefore, and not in 
 a compound, or in a machine, that we must look for the phe- 
 nomenon of perception. And in the simple substance we find 
 nothing else nothing, that is, but perceptions and their 
 changes. Therein also, and* therein only, consist all the internal 
 actions of simple substances. 
 
202 LEIBNITZ 
 
 1 8. We might give the name of entelechies to all simple 
 substances or created Monads, inasmuch as there is in them a 
 certain completeness (perfection), (exovo-i TO a/rcAe's). There is a 
 certain sufficiency (cd/rap/ceia) which makes them the sources of 
 their own internal actions, and, as it were, incorporeal automata. 
 
 19. If we choose to give the name of soul to everything that 
 has perceptions and desires [qppetits], in the general sense which 
 I have just explained, then all simple substances or created 
 Monads may be called souls. But as feeling [le sentiment] is 
 something more than simple perception, I am willing that the 
 general name of Monads or entelechies shall suffice for those 
 simple substances which have perception only, and that the 
 term souls shall be confined to those in which perceptions are 
 more distinct, and accompanied by memory. 
 
 20. For we experience in ourselves a state in which we remem- 
 ber nothing, and have no distinct perception; as when we are in 
 a swoon or in a profound or dreamless sleep. In this state the 
 soul does not differ perceptibly from a simple Monad; but since 
 this state is not permanent, and since the soul delivers itself from 
 it, the soul is something more than a bare Monad. 
 
 21. And it does not by any means follow, in that case, that 
 the simple substance is without perception. That, indeed, is 
 impossible, for the reasons given above; for it cannot perish, 
 neither can it subsist without affection of some kind, which is 
 nothing else than its perception. But where there is a great num- 
 ber of minute perceptions, and where nothing is distinct, one is 
 stunned; as when we turn round and round in continual suc- 
 cession in the same direction, whence arises a vertigo, which 
 may cause us to faint, and which prevents us from distinguishing 
 anything. And possibly death may produce this state for a time 
 in animals. 
 
 22. And as every present condition of a simple substance is 
 a natural consequence of its antecedent condition, so its present 
 is big with its future. 
 
 23. Then, as on waking from a state of stupor, we become 
 conscious of our perceptions, we must have perceptions, although 
 unconscious of them, immediately before awaking. For each 
 
THE MONADOLOGY 203 
 
 perceptjon_can have no_other natural origin but an antecedent 
 perception, as^ej^ry^otionjn^^ be derivejd frorn^ one which^ 
 preceded it. 
 
 24. Thus it appears that if there were no distinction no 
 relief, so to speak no enhanced flavor in our perceptions, we 
 should continue forever in a state of stupor; and this is the 
 condition of the naked Monad. 
 
 25. And so we see that nature has given to animals enhanced 
 perceptions, by the care which she has taken to furnish them 
 with organs which collect many rays of light and. many undula- 
 tions of air, increasing their efficacy by their union. There is 
 something approaching to this in odor, in taste, in touch, and per- 
 haps in a multitude of other senses of which we have no know- 
 ledge. I shall presently explain how that which passes in the 
 soul represents that which takes place in the organs. 
 
 26. Memory gives to the soul a kind of consecutiveness* 
 which resembles [imite] reason, but must be distinguished from it. 
 We observe that animals, having a perception of something which 
 strikes them, and of which they have previously had a similar 
 perception, expect, through the representation of their memory, 
 the recurrence of that which was associated with it in their pre- 
 vious perception, and incline to the same feelings which they 
 then had. For example, when we show dogs the cane, they re- 
 member the pain which it caused them, and whine and run. 
 
 27. And the lively imagination, which affects and excites them, 
 arises either from the magnitude or the number of their previous 
 perceptions. For often a powerful impression produces suddenly 
 the effect of long habit, or of moderate perceptions often repeated. 
 
 28. In men as in brutes, the consecutiveness of their per- 
 ceptions is due to the principle of memory like empirical 
 physicians, who practice without theory. Indeed we are mere 
 empirics in three-fourths of our acts. For example, when we ex- 
 pect that the sun will rise to-morrow, we judge so empirically, 
 because it has always risen hitherto. It is only the astronomer 
 who judges by an act of reason. 
 
 29. But the knowledge of necessary and eternal truths is what 
 
 * The term is equivalent to association of ideas. 
 
204 LEIBNITZ 
 
 distinguishes us from mere animals. It is this which gives us 
 Reason and the Sciences, and raises us to the knowledge of our- 
 selves and of God; and it is this in us which we call a reasonable 
 soul or spirit [esprit]. 
 
 30. It is also by the knowledge of necessary truths, and by 
 their abstractions, that we rise to acts of reflection, which give 
 us the idea of that which calls itself "I," and which lead us to 
 consider that this or that is within us. And thus, while thinking 
 of ourselves, we think of being, of substance, simple or com- 
 pound, of the immaterial, and of God himself. We conceive 
 that that which in us is limited, is in him without limit. And these 
 reflective acts furnish the principal objects of our reasonings. 
 
 31. Our reasonings are founded on two great principles, that 
 of contradiction, by virtue of which we judge that to be false , 
 which involves contradiction, and that to be true which is opposed 
 to, or which contradicts the false, 
 
 32. And that of sufficient reason, by virtue of which we judge 
 that no fact can be real or existent, no statement true, unless 
 there be a sufficient reason why it is thus, and not otherwise, 
 although these reasons very often cannot be known to us. 
 
 33. There are also two kinds of truths, those of reasoning 
 and those of fact. Truths of reasoning are necessary, and their 
 opposite is impossible; those of fact are contingent, and their 
 opposite is possible. When a truth is necessary, we may discover 
 the reason of it by analysis, resolving it into simpler ideas and 
 truths, until we arrive at those which are primitive [primitifs]. 
 
 34. It is thus that mathematicians by analysis reduce specula- 
 tive theorems and practical canons to definitions, Axioms, and 
 postulates. 
 
 35. And finally, there are simple ideas of which no definition 
 can be given; there are also axioms and postulates, in a word, 
 ultimate principles, which cannot and need not be proved. And 
 these are identical propositions, the opposite of which contains 
 an express contradiction. 
 
 36. But there must also be a sufficient reason for contingent 
 
 
 
THE MONADOLOGY 205 
 
 resolving into particular reasons might run into a detail without 
 bounds, on account of the immense variety of things in nature, 
 and the infinite division of bodies. There is an infinity of figures 
 and of movements, present and past, which enter into the effi- 
 cient cause of my present writing; and there is an infinity of 
 minute inclinations and dispositions of my soul, present and past, 
 which enter into the final cause of it. 
 
 37. And as all this detail only involves other anterior or more 
 detailed contingencies, each one of which again requires a similar 
 analysis in order to account for it, we have made no advance ; and 
 the sufficient or final reason must be outside of the series of this 
 detail of contingencies [i. e. accidental causes], however infinite 
 this series may be. 
 
 38. And thus the final reason of things must be found in a 
 necessary substance, in which the detail of changes exists only 
 eminently, as in their source. And this substance we call God. 
 
 39. Now this substance being a sufficient reason of all this 
 detail, which also is everywhere linked together, there is only one 
 God, and this God suffices. 
 
 40. We may also conclude that this supreme substance, which 
 is unique, universal, and necessary having nothing outside of 
 it which is independent of it and which is a simple sequence of 
 possible being, must be incapable of limits, and must contain 
 as much of reality as is possible. 
 
 41. Whence it follows that God is perfect, perfection being 
 nothing but the magnitude of positive reality taken exactly, setting 
 aside the limits or bounds in that which is limited. And where 
 there are no bounds, that is to say, in God, perfection is abso- 
 lutely infinite. 
 
 42. It follows also that the creatures have their perfections 
 from the influence of God,, but they have their imperfections 
 from their own nature, which is incapable of existing without 
 limits. For it is by this that they are distinguished from God. 
 
 43. It is true, moreover, that God is not only the source of 
 existences, but also of essences, so far as real, or of that which is 
 real in the possible. For the divine understanding is the region 
 of eternal truths, or of the ideas on which they depend, and 
 
ao6 LEIBNITZ 
 
 without Him there would be nothing real in the possibilities of 
 things, and not only nothing existing, but also nothing possible. 
 
 44. At the same time, if there be a reality in the essences or 
 possibilities, or in the eternal truths, this reality must be founded 
 in something existing and actual, consequently in the existence 
 of the necessary Being, in whom essence includes existence, or 
 with whom it is sufficient to be possible in order to be actual. 
 
 45. Thus God alone (or the necessary Being) possesses this 
 privilege, that He must exist, if He is possible ; and since nothing 
 can hinder the possibility of that which includes no limits, no 
 negation, and consequently no contradiction, that alone is suffi- 
 cient to establish the existence of God a priori. We have likewise 
 proved it by the reality of eternal truths. But we have also just 
 proved it a posteriori by showing that, since contingent beings 
 exist, they can have their ultimate and sufficient reason only in 
 some necessary Being, who contains the reason of his existence in 
 himself. 
 
 46. Nevertheless, we must not suppose, as some do, that eternal 
 verities, being dependent upon God, are arbitrary, and depend 
 upon his will, as Descartes, and afterwards M. Poiret, appear 
 to have held. This is true only of contingent truths, the principle 
 of which is fitness, or the choice of the best; whereas necessary 
 truths depend solely on His understanding, and are its inner 
 object. 
 
 47. Thus God alone is the primitive unity, or the original 
 simple substance of which all the created or derived Monads are 
 the products; and they are generated so to speak, by continual 
 figurations of the Divinity, from moment to moment, bounded 
 by the receptivity of the creature, of whose existence limitation is 
 an essential condition. 
 
 48. In God is Power, which is the source of all; also knowledge, 
 which contains the detail of ideas; and, finally, Will, which gen- 
 erates changes or products according to the principle of optimism. 
 And this corresponds to what, in created Monads, constitutes 
 the subject or the basis, the perceptive and the appetitive faculty. 
 But in God these attributes are absolutely infinite or perfect; and 
 in the created Monads, or in the entelechies (or perjectihabiae, 
 
THE MONADOLOGY 207 
 
 as Hermolaus Barbaras translates this word), they are only imi- 
 tations according to the measure of their perfection. 
 
 49. The creature is said to act externally, in so far as it pos- 
 sesses perfection, and to suffer from another [creature] in so far 
 as it is imperfect. Thus we ascribe action to the Monad, in so 
 far as it has distinct perceptions, and passivity [passion], in so far 
 as its perceptions are confused. 
 
 50. And one creature is more perfect than another, in this, that 
 we find in it that which serves to account a priori for what takes 
 place in the other; and it is therefore said to act upon the other. 
 
 51. But in simple substances this is merely an ideal influence 
 of one Monad upon another, and it can have its effect only by the 
 intervention of God, inasmuch as in the ideas of God any Monad 
 has a right to demand that God, in regulating the rest from the 
 commencement of things, should have regard to it. For since a 
 created Monad can have no physical influence on the interior of 
 another, it is only by this means that one can be dependent on 
 another. 
 
 52. And hence it is that actions and passions in creatures are 
 mutual. For God, comparing two simple substances, finds rea- 
 sons in each which oblige Him to adapt the one to the other. Con- 
 sequently that which is active in one view, is passive in another; 
 active in so far as what we clearly discern in it serves to account 
 for that which takes place in another, and passive in so far as the 
 reason of that which passes in it is found in that which is clearly 
 discerned in another. 
 
 53. Now, as in the ideas of God there is an infinity of possible 
 worlds, and as only one can exist, there must be a sufficient rea- 
 son for the choice of God, which determines Him to decide upon 
 one rather than another. 
 
 54. ^And this reason can be no other than fitness, derived from 
 the different degrees of perfection which these worlds contain, 
 since each possible world has a claim to exist according to the 
 measure of perfection which it enfolds. 
 
 55. And this is the cause of the existence of that Best, which 
 the wisdom of God discerns, his goodness chooses, and his power 
 effects. 
 
2 o8 LEIBNITZ 
 
 56. And this connection, or this adaptation of all created 
 things to each, and of each to all, implies in each simple substance 
 relations which express all the rest. Each, accordingly, is a living 
 and perpetual mirror of the universe. 
 
 57. And as the same city viewed from different sides appears 
 quite different, and is perspectively multiplied, so, in the infinite 
 number of simple substances, there are given, as it were, so many 
 different worlds, which, nevertheless, are only the perspectives 
 of a single one, according to the different points of view of each 
 Monad. 
 
 58. And this is the way to obtain the greatest possible variety, 
 along with the greatest possible order; that is to say, it is the 
 way to obtain the greatest possible perfection. 
 
 59. Thus this hypothesis (which I may venture to pronounce 
 demonstrated) is the only one which properly exhibits the great- 
 ness of God. And this M. Bayle acknowledges, when in his 
 Dictionary (article Rorarius) he objects to it. He is even disposed 
 to think that I attribute too much to God, and that I ascribe 
 to him impossibilities. But he can allege no reason for the im- 
 possibility of this universal harmony, by which each substance 
 expresses exactly the perfections of all the rest through its rela- 
 tions with them. 
 
 60. We see, moreover, in what I have just stated, the a priori 
 reasons why things could not be other than they are. For God, 
 in ordering the whole, has respect to each part, and specifically 
 to each Monad, whose nature being to represent, is by nothing 
 restrained from representing the whole of things; although, it is 
 true, that this representation must needs be confused, as it re- 
 gards the detail [le detail] of the whole universe, and can be dis- 
 tinct only in relation to a small part of things, that is, in relation 
 to those which are nearest, or whose relations to any given Monad 
 are greatest. Otherwise each Monad would be a divinity. The 
 Monads are limited, not in the object, but in the mode of their 
 knowledge of the object. They all tend confusedly toward the 
 infinite, toward the whole ; but they are limited and distinguished 
 by the degrees of distinctness in their perceptions. 
 
 61. And compounds symbolize in this respect with simple 
 
THE MONADOLOGY 209 
 
 substances. For since the world is a plenum, and all matter con- 
 nected, and as in a plenum every movement has some effect on 
 distant bodies, in proportion to their distance, so that each body 
 is affected not only by those in actual contact with it, and feels 
 in some way all that happens to them, but also through their 
 means is affected by others in contact with those by which it is 
 immediately touched it follows that this intercommunication 
 extends to any distance however great. Consequently, each body 
 feels all that passes in the universe, so that he who sees all, may 
 read in each that which passes everywhere else, and even that 
 which has been and shall be, discerning in the present that which 
 is removed in time as well as in space : o-v'/xTn/oia Travra, said Hip- 
 pocrates. But each soul can read in itself only that which is 
 distinctly represented in it. It cannot unfold its laws at once, 
 for they reach into the infinite. 
 
 62. Thus, though every created Monad represents the entire 
 universe, it represents more distinctly the particular body to 
 which it belongs, and whose entelechy it is; and as this body ex- 
 presses the entire universe, through the connection of all matter 
 in a plenum, the soul represents also the entire universe in repre- 
 senting that body which especially belongs to it. 
 
 63. The body belonging to a Monad, which is its entelechy or 
 soul, constitutes, with its entelechy, what may be termed a living 
 being, and, with its soul, what may be called an animal. Now 
 this body of a living being, or of an animal, is always organic; 
 for every Monad, being a mirror of the universe, according to its 
 fashion, and the universe being arranged with perfect order, there 
 must be the same order in the representative, that is, in the per- 
 ceptions of the soul, and consequently in the body, according to 
 which the universe is represented in it. 
 
 64. Thus each organic living body is a kind of divine machine, 
 or a natural automaton, infinitely: surpassing all artificial auto- 
 mata. A machine made by human art is not a machine in all its 
 parts. For example, the tooth of a brass wheel has parts or frag- 
 ments which are not artificial to us, and which have nothing to 
 mark the machine in relation to the use for which the wheel is 
 designed. But nature's machines, that is, living bodies, are still 
 
210 LEIBNITZ 
 
 machines in their minutest parts, ad infinitum. This constitutes 
 the difference between nature and art, that is to say, between 
 the divine art and ours. 
 
 65. And the author of nature has been able to exercise this 
 divine and infinitely wonderful art, inasmuch as every portion of 
 nature is not only infinitely divisible, as the ancients knew, but 
 is actually subdivided without end, each part into parts, of which 
 each has its own movement. Otherwise, it would be impossible 
 that each portion of matter should express the universe. 
 
 66. Whence it appears that there is a world of creatures, of 
 living beings, of animals, of entelechies, of souls, in the minutest 
 portion of matter. 
 
 67. Every particle of matter may be conceived as a garden of 
 plants, or as a pond full of fishes. But each branch of each plant, 
 each member of each animal, each drop of their humors, is in 
 turn another such garden or pond. 
 
 68. And although the earth and the air embraced between 
 the plants in the garden, or the water between the fishes of the 
 pond, are not themselves plant or fish, they nevertheless contain 
 such, but mostly too minute for our perception. 
 
 69. Thus there is no uncultivated spot, no barrenness, no death 
 in the universe, no chaos, no confusion, except in appearance, 
 somewhat as it might appear in a pond at a distance, in which 
 one would see a confused movement and swarming, so to speak, 
 of the fishes of the pond, without separately distinguishing the 
 fishes themselves. 
 
 70. We see, then, that each living body has a governing entel- 
 echy, which in animals is the soul of the animal. But the mem- 
 bers of this living body are full of other living beings plants, 
 animals each of which has its entelechy, or regent soul. 
 
 71. We must not, however, suppose, as some who misappre- 
 hend my thought have done, that each soul has a mass or portion 
 of matter proper to itself, or forever united to it, and that it con- 
 sequently possesses other " 'or living beings, destined forever 
 to its service. For all bod s in a perpetual flux, like rivers. 
 Their particles are continuaKy coming and going. 
 
 72. Thus the soul does n inge its body except by degrees. 
 
THE MONADOLOGY 211 
 
 It is never deprived all at once of all its organs. There are often 
 metamorphoses in animals, but never metempsychosis, nor trans- 
 migration of souls. Neither are there souls entirely separated 
 [from bodies], nor genii without bodies. God alone is wholly with- 
 out body. 
 
 73. For which reason, also, there is never complete generation 
 nor complete death strictly considered consisting in the sepa- 
 ration of the soul from the body. That which we call generation, 
 is development and accretion; and that which we call death, 
 is envelopment and diminution. 
 
 74. Philosophers have been much troubled about the origin 
 of forms, of entelechies, or souls. But at the present day, when, 
 by accurate investigations of plants, insects and animals, they 
 have become aware that the organic bodies of nature are never 
 produced from chaos or from putrefaction, but always from a 
 seed, in which undoubtedly, there had been some prefofmation, 
 it has been inferred that not only the organic body existed in that 
 seed before conception, but also a soul in that body, in one word, 
 the animal itself; and that, by the act of conception, this ani- 
 mal is merely disposed to a greater transformation, in order to 
 become an animal of another species. We even see something 
 approaching this, outside of generation, as when worms become 
 flies, or when caterpillars become butterflies. 
 
 75. Those animals, of which some are advanced to a higher 
 grade, by means of conception, may be called spermatic; but those 
 among them which remain in their kind, that is to say, the 
 greater portion, are born, multiply, and are destroyed, like the 
 larger animals, and only a small number of the elect among them 
 pass to a greater theatre. 
 
 76. But this is only half the truth. I have concluded that if 
 the animal does not begin to be in the order of nature, it also does 
 not cease to be in the order of nature; and that not only there is no 
 generation, but no entire destruction, or death, strictly speaking. 
 And these a posteriori conclusions, drawn from experience, accord 
 perfectly with my principles deduced a priori, as stated above. 
 
 77. Thus we may say, not only that the soul (mirror of an in- 
 destructible universe) is indestructible, but also the animal itself, 
 
212 LEIBNITZ 
 
 although its machine may often perish in part, and put off or 
 put on organic spoils. 
 
 78. These principles have furnished me with a natural explana- 
 tion of the union, or rather the conformity between the soul and 
 the organized body. The soul follows its proper laws, and the 
 body likewise follows those which are proper to it, and they meet 
 in virtue of the preestablished harmony which exists between all 
 substances, as representations of one and the same universe. 
 
 79. Souls act according to the laws of final causes, by ap- 
 petitions, means and ends; bodies act according to the -laws of 
 efficient causes, or the laws of motion. And the two kingdoms, 
 that of efficient causes and that of final causes, are in harmony 
 with one another. 
 
 80. Descartes recognized that souls communicate no force to 
 bodies, because the quantity of force in matter is always the same. 
 Nevertheless, he believed that souls might change the direction 
 of bodies. But this was because the world was at that time igno- 
 rant of the law of nature, which requires the conservation of the 
 same total direction in matter. Had he known this, he would have 
 hit upon my system of preestablished harmony. 
 
 81. According to this system, bodies act as if there were no 
 souls, and souls act as if there were no bodies ; and yet both act 
 as though the one influenced the other. 
 
 82. As to spirits, or rational souls, although I find that at 
 bottom the same principle which I have stated namely, that 
 animals and souls begin with the world and end only with the 
 world holds true with regard to all animals and living things, 
 yet there is this peculiarity in rational animals, that although 
 their spermatic animalcules, as such, have only ordinary or sen- 
 sitive souls, yet as soon as those of them which are, so to speak, 
 elected, arrive by the act of conception at human nature, their 
 sensitive souls are elevated to the rank of reason and to the pre- 
 rogative of spirits. 
 
 83. Among other differences which exist between spirits and 
 ordinary souls, some of which have already been indicated, 
 there is also this: that souls in general are living mirrors, orjm- 
 ages of the universe of creatures, but spirits are, furthermore, 
 
THE MONADOLOGY 213 
 
 images of Divinity itself, or of the Author of Nature, capable of 
 knowing the system of the universe, and of imitating something 
 of it by architectonic ensamples [echantillons], each spirit being, 
 as it were, a little divinity in its own department. 
 
 84. Hence spirits [esprits] are able to enter into a kind of fellow- 
 ship with God. In their view he is not merely what an inventor . 
 is to his machine (which is the relation of God to other creatures), 
 but also what a prince is to his subjects, and even what a father 
 is to his children. 
 
 85. Whence it is easy to conclude that the assembly of all 
 spirits must constitute the City of God, that is to say, the most 
 perfect state that is possible, under the most perfect of monarchs. 
 
 86. This City of God, this truly universal monarchy, is a moral 
 world within the natural ; and it is the most exalted and the most 
 divine among the works of God. It is in this that the glory of God 
 most truly consists, for it would be wanting if his greatness and 
 his goodness were not recognized and admired by spirits. It is 
 in relation to this Divine City that he possesses, properly speak- 
 ing, the attribute of goodness, whereas his wisdom and his power 
 are everywhere manifest. 
 
 87. As we have established above a perfect harmony between 
 the two natural kingdoms, the one of efficient, the other of final 
 causes, it behooves us to notice here also still another harmony 
 between the physical kingdom of nature and the moral kingdom 
 of grace, that is to say, between God considered as the architect 
 of the mechanism [machine] of the universe, and God considered t 
 as monarch of the divine City of Spirits. 
 
 88. This harmony makes all things conduce to grace by nat- 
 ural methods. This globe, for example, must be destroyed and 
 repaired by natural means, at such seasons as the government 
 of spirits may require, for the chastisement of some and recom- 
 pense of others. 
 
 89. We may say, furthermore, that God as architect satisfies 
 entirely God as legislator, and that accordingly, sins must carry 
 their punishment with them in the order of nature, and by virtue 
 even of the mechanical structure of things; and that good deeds 
 in like manner will bring their recompense, through ttieir con- 
 
214 LEIBNITZ 
 
 nection with bodies, although this cannot, and ought not always 
 to happen immediately. 
 
 90. Finally, under this perfect government, there will be no 
 good deed without its recompense, and no evil deed without its 
 punishment, and all must redound to the advantage of the good, 
 that is to say, of those who are not malcontents, in this great 
 commonwealth, who confide in Providence after having done 
 their duty, and who worthily love and imitate the Author of all 
 good, pleasing themselves with the contemplation of His perfec- 
 tions, following the nature of genuine " pure love," which makes 
 us blest in the happiness of the loved. In this spirit the wise 
 and good labor for that which appears to be conformable to 
 the divine will, presumptive or antecedent, contented the while 
 with all that God brings to pass by his secret, consequent and 
 decisive will, recognizing that if we were sufficiently acquainted 
 with the order of the universe we should find that it surpasses 
 all the wishes of the wisest, and that it could not be made better 
 than it is, not only for all in general, but for ourselves in particu- 
 lar, if we are attached, as is fitting, to the Author of All, not only 
 as the architect and efficient cause of our being, but also as our 
 master and final cause, who ought to be the whole aim of our 
 volition, and who alone can make us blest. 
 
JOHN LOCKE 
 
 (1632-1704) 
 
 AN ESSAY CONCERNING HUMAN UNDER- 
 STANDING* 
 
 BOOK I 
 CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION t 
 
 *s 
 
 i. An inquiry into the understanding, pleasant and useful. 
 Since it is the understanding that sets man above the rest of sen- 
 sible 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 
 
 * London, 1690 ; 2d enl. ed. 1694; 3d ed. 1697 ; 4th enl. ed. 1700 ; ed. A. C. 
 Eraser, 2 vols. Oxford, 1894. The body of the present text has been compared 
 with that of Eraser's edition. Deviations from the first edition of the Essay found 
 by him in the three other editions of Locke's lifetime are shown by brackets, 
 f The origin of the Essay is thus told by Locke in his introductory Epistle: 
 " Were it fit to trouble thee with the history of this Essay, I should tell thee, 
 that five or six friends, meeting at my chamber, and discoursing on a subject 
 very remote from this, found themselves quickly at a stand by the difficulties 
 that rose on every side. After we had awhile puzzled ourselves, without com- 
 ing 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 company, 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 continued by intreaty; written by incoherent parcels ; 
 and, after long intervals of neglect, resumed again, as my humour or occasions 
 permitted; and at last, in a retirement, where an attendance on my health gave 
 me leisure, it was brought into that order thou now seest it." 
 
< 
 
 216 LOCKE 
 
 with our own understandings, will not only be very pleasant, but 
 bring us great advantage in directing our thoughts in the search 
 of other things. 
 
 2. Design. This therefore being my purpose, to inquire 
 into the original, certainty, and extent of human knowledge, 
 together with the grounds and degrees of belief, opinion} and 
 assent, I shall not at present meddle with the physical considera- 
 tion of the mind, or trouble myself to examine wherein its essence 
 consists or by what motions of our spirits, or alteration's of bur 
 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 decline, as lying out of my way in the design I am now 
 upon. ; It shall suffice to my present purpose, to consider the dis- 
 cerning 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 occasions, 
 if, in this historical, plain method, I can give any account of the 
 ways whereby our understandings come to attain those notions ol 
 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 con- 
 tradictory ; and yet asserted somewhere or other with such assur- 
 ance and confidence, that he that shall take a view of the opinions 
 of mankind, observe their opposition, and at the same time con- 
 sider the fondness and devotion wherewith they are embraced, 
 the resolution and eagerness wherewith they are maintained, may 
 perhaps have reason to suspect that either there is no such thing 
 as truth at all, or that mankind hath no sufficient means to attain 
 a certain knowledge of it. 
 
 3. Method. It is therefore worth while to search out the 
 bounds between opinion and knowledge, and examine by what 
 measures, in things whereof we have no certain 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, 
 
ESSAY ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 217 
 
 or whatever else you please to call them, which a man observes, 
 and is conscious to himself he has in his mind ; and the ways 
 whereby the understanding comes to be furnished with them. 
 
 Secondly. I shall endeavour to show what knowledge the 
 understanding hath by those ideas, and the certainty, 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 ex- 
 amine the reasons and degrees of assent. 
 
 CHAPTER II. NO INNATE PRINCIPLES IN 
 THE MIND 
 
 T. The way shown how we come by any knowledge, sufficient 
 to prove it not innate. It is an established opinion amongst 
 some men, 'that there are in the understanding certain innate 
 principles ; some primary notions, KOLVOL cWouu, characters, as 
 it were, stamped upon the mind of man, which the soul receives 
 in its very first being, and brings into the world with it. It would 
 be sufficient to convince unprejudiced readers of the falseness 
 of this supposition, if I should only show (as I hope I shall in the 
 following parts of this discourse) how men, barely by the use of 
 their natural faculties, may attain to all the knowledge they have, 
 without the help of any innate impressions, and may arrive at 
 certainty, without any such original nations or principles. For I 
 imagine any one will easily grant that it would be impertinent 
 to suppose the ideas of colours innate in a creature to whom God 
 hath given sight, and a power to receive them by the eyes from 
 external objects: and no less unreasonable would it be to attri- 
 bute several truths to the impressions of nature and innate char- 
 acters, when we may observe in ourselves faculties fit to attain 
 as easy and certain knowledge of them, as if they were origi- 
 nally imprinted on the mind. 
 
 But because a man is not permitted without censure to follow 
 
2 i8 LOCKE 
 
 his own thoughts in the search of truth, when they lead him ever 
 so little out of the common road, I shall set down the reasons 
 that made me doubt of the truth of that opinion, as an excuse for 
 my mistake, if I be in one; which I leave to be considered by 
 those who, with me, dispose themselves to embrace truth wher- 
 ever they find it. 
 
 2. General assent the great argument. There is nothing 
 more commonly taken for granted than that there are certain 
 principles, both speculative and practical (for they speak of 
 both), universally agreed upon by all mankind, which therefore, 
 they argue, must needs be constant impressions, which the souls 
 of men receive in their first beings, and which they bring into the 
 world with them, as necessarily and really as they do any of their 
 inherent faculties. 
 
 3. Universal consent proves nothing innate. This argu- 
 mern^ drawn from universal consent, has this misfortune in it, 
 that if it were true in matter of fact, that there were certain 
 truths wherein all mankind agreed, it would not prove them 
 innate, if there can be any other way shown how men may come 
 to that universal agreement in the things they do consent in, 
 which I presume may be done. 
 
 4. "What is, is," and "it is impossible for the same thing to 
 be and not to be" not universally assented to. But, which is 
 worse, this argument of universal consent, which is made use 
 of to prove innate principles, seems to me a demonstration that 
 there are none such; because there are none to wjn'chjill man- 
 kind give an universal assent. I shall begin with the speculative, 
 and instance in those magnified principles of demonstration, 
 " whatsoever is, is," and "it is impossible for the same thing to 
 be and not to be;" which, of all others, I think have the most 
 allowed title to innate. These have so settled a reputation of 
 maxims universally received, that it will no doubt be thought 
 strange if any one should seem to question it. But yet I take 
 liberty to say, that these propositions are so far from having an 
 universal assent, that there are a great part of mankind to whom 
 they are not so much as known. 
 
 5. Not on the mind naturally imprinted, because not known 
 
ESSAY ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 219 
 
 to children, idiots, &>c. For, first, it is evident that all chil- 
 dren and idiots have not the least apprehension or thought of 
 them; and the wanUaf-thaLis^enough to destroy fjiaijirm/prsfl] 
 assent which must needs be the necessary concomitant of all 
 innate truths : it seeming to me near a contradiction to say that 
 there are truths imprinted on the soul which it perceives or under- 
 stands not; imprinting, if it signify anything, being nothing else 
 but the making certain truths to be perceived. j^oj^ojymprint 
 anything_oiL the nad~-without-the~ mindV perceiving it, seems 
 to mj^JrflTjjIy .-intelligible. If therefore children and idiots have 
 souls, have minds, with those impressions upon them, they must 
 unavoidably perceive them, and necessarily know_.and-assent to 
 thesejtruths; which since they do not, it is evident that there 
 are no such impressions. For if they are not notions naturally 
 imprinted, how can they be innate? and if they are notions 
 imprinted, how can they be unknown ? To say a notion is im- 
 printed on the mind, and yet at the same time to say that the 
 mind is ignorant of it, and never yet took notice of it, is to make 
 this impression nothing. No proposition can be said to be in 
 the mind which it never yet knew, which it was never yet con- 
 scious of. For if any one may, then, by the same reason, all 
 propositions that are true, and the mind is capable of ever assent- 
 ing to, may be said to be in the mind, and to be imprinted : since, 
 if any one can be said to be in the mind, which it never yet knew, 
 it must be only because it is capable of knowing it, and so the 
 mind is of all truths it ever shall know. Nay, thus truths may 
 be imprinted on the mind which it never did nor ever shall know; 
 for a man may live long, and die at last in ignorance of many 
 truths which his mind was capable of knowing, and that with 
 certainty. So that if the capacity of knowing be the natural im- 
 pression contended for, all the truths a man ever comes to know 
 will, by this account, be every one of them innate ; and this great 
 point will amount to no more, but only to a very improper way 
 of speaking; which, whilst it pretends to assert the contrary, 
 says nothing different from those who deny innate principles. 
 For nobody, I think, ever denied that the mind was capable 
 of knowing several truths. The capacity, they say, is innate, 
 
LOCKE 
 
 the knowledge acquired. But then to what end such contest for 
 certain innate maxims ? If truths can be imprinted on the under- 
 standing without being perceived, I can see no difference there 
 can be between any truths the mind is capable of knowing in 
 respect of their original: they must all be innate or all adventi- 
 tious; in vain shall a man go about to distinguish them. He 
 therefore, that talks of innate notions in the understanding, can- 
 not (if he intend thereby any distinct sort of truths) mean such 
 truths to be in the understanding as it never perceived, and is 
 yet wholly ignorant of. For if these words (to be in the under- 
 standing) have any propriety, they signify to be understood; so 
 that to be in the understanding and not to be understood, to be 
 in the mind and never to be perceived, is all one as to say any- 
 thing is and is not in the mind or understanding. If therefore 
 these two propositions, "Whatsoever is, is," and "it is impossible 
 for the same thing to be and not to be," are by nature imprinted, 
 children cannot be ignorant of them; infants, and all that have 
 souls, must necessarily have them in their understandings, know 
 the truth of them, and assent to it. 
 
 6. That men know them when they come to the use of reason, 
 answered. To avoid this, it is usually answered, that all men 
 know and assent to them, when they come to the use of reason, 
 and this is enough to prove them innate. I answer: 
 
 7. Doubtful expressions, that have scarce any signification, 
 go for clear reasons to those who, being prepossessed, take not 
 the pains to examine even what they themselves say. For, to 
 apply this answer with any tolerable sense to our present pur- 
 pose, it must signify one of these two things ; either that as soon 
 as men come to the use of reason these supposed native inscrip- 
 tions come to be known and observed by them, or else that the 
 use and exercise of men's reason assists them in the discovery of 
 these principles, and certainly makes them known to them. 
 
 8. // reason discovered them, that would not prove them in- 
 nate. If they mean, that by the use of reason men may dis- 
 cover these principles, and that this is sufficient to prove them 
 innate; their way of arguing will stand thus, viz., that whatever 
 truths reason can certainly discover to us, and make us firmly 
 
ESSAY C)N HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 
 
 f 
 
 assent to, those are all naturally imprinted on the mind; since 
 that universal assent, which is made the mark of them, amounts 
 to no more but this, that by the use of reason we are capable to 
 come to a certain knowledge of and assent to them; and, by this 
 means, there will be no difference between the maxims of the 
 mathematicians, and theorems they deduce from them : all must 
 be equally allowed innate, they being all discoveries made by 
 the use of reason, and truths that a rational creature may cer- 
 tainly come to know, if he apply his thoughts rightly that way. 
 
 9. // is false that reason discovers them. But how can these 
 men think the use of reason necessary to discover principles that 
 are supposed innate, when reason (if we may believe them) is 
 nothing else but the faculty of deducing unknown truths from 
 principles or propositions that are already known? That cer- 
 tainly can never be thought innate which we have need of reason 
 to discover; unless, as I have said, we will have all the certain 
 truths that reason ever teaches us, to be innate. We may as well 
 think the use of reason necessary to make our eyes discover 
 visible objects, as that there should be need of reason, , jpr the 
 exercise thereof, to make the understanding see what is originally 
 engraverjum it, and cannot be in the understanding before it be 
 perceived by it. So that to make reason discover those truths 
 thus imprinted, is to say that the use of reason discovers to a man 
 what he knew before: and if men have those innate impressed 
 truths originally, and before the use of reason, and yet are always 
 ignorant of them till they come to the use of reason, it is in effect 
 to say, that men know and know them not at the same time. 
 
 CHAPTER III. NO INNATE PRACTICAL PRIN- 
 CIPLES 
 
 i. No moral principles so clear and so generally received as 
 the forementioned speculative maxims. If those speculative 
 maxi~~~ 1 -'?reof we discoursed in the foregoing chapter, have 
 not an actual universal assent from all mankind, as we there 
 proved, it is much more visible concerning practical principles, 
 
222 LOCKE 
 
 that they come short of an universal reception; and I think it 
 will be hard to instance any one moral rule which can pretend 
 to so general and ready an assent as, "What is, is;" or to be so 
 manifest a truth as this, " That it is impossible for the same thing 
 to be and not to be." Whereby it is evident that they are further 
 removed from a title to be innate; and the doubt of their being 
 native impressions on the mind is stronger against those moral 
 principles than the other. Not that it brings their truth at all. 
 in question. They are equally true, though not equally evident. 
 Those speculative maxims carry their own evidence with them; 
 but moral principles require reasoning and discourse, and some 
 exercise of the mind, to discover the certainty of their truth. 
 They lie not open as natural characters engraven on the mind; 
 which, if any such were, they must needs be visible by them- 
 selves, and by their own light be certain and known to every- 
 body. But this is no derogation to their truth and certainty, no 
 more than it is to the truth or certainty of the three angles of a 
 triangle being equal to two right ones; because it is not so evi- 
 dent as "the whole is bigger than a part," nor so apt to be as- 
 sented to at first hearing. It may suffice that these moral rules 
 j are capable of demonstration ; and therefore it is our own fault 
 if we come not to a certain knowledge of them. But the igno- 
 rance wherein many men are of them, and the slowness of assent 
 wherewith others receive them, are manifest proofs that they 
 are not innate, and such as offer themselves to their view without 
 searching. 
 
 2. Faith and justice not owned as principles by all men. 
 Whether there be any such moral principles wherein all men do 
 agree, I appeal to any who have been but moderately conversant 
 in the history of mankind, and looked abroad beyond the smoke 
 of their own chimneys. Where is that practical truth that is 
 universally received without doubt or question, as it must be if 
 innate? Justice, and keeping of contracts, is that which most 
 men seem to agree in. This is a principle which is thought to 
 extend itself to the dens of thieves, and the confederacies of the 
 greatest villains; and they who have gone furthest towards the 
 putting off of humanity itself, keep faith and rules of justice one 
 
ESSAY ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 223 
 
 with another. I grant that outlaws themselves do this one 
 amongst another; but it is without receiving these as the innate 
 laws of nature. They practice them as .rules of convenience 
 within _their__own communities: but it is impossible to conceive 
 that he embraces justice as a practical principle, who acts fairly 
 with his fellow-highwayman, and at the same time plunders or 
 kills the next honest man he meets with. Justice and truth are 
 the common ties of society; and therefore even outlaws and 
 robbers, who break with all the world besides, must keep faith 
 and rules of equity amongst themselves, or else they cannot hold 
 together. But will any one say, that those that live by fraud or 
 rapine have innate principles of truth and justice which they 
 allow and assent to? 
 
 4. Moral rules need a proof, ergo not innate. Another 
 reason that makes me doubt of any innate practical principles 
 is, that I think there cannot any one moral rule be proposed 
 whereof a man may not justly demand a reason; which would 
 be_jDejieily_np^^ o*~so- 
 
 much as self-evident; which every innate principle must needs 
 be, andliot need any proof to ascertain its truth, nor want any 
 reason to gain it approbation. He would be thought void of 
 common sense who asked on the one side, or on the other side 
 went to give a reason, " why it is impossible for the same thing to 
 be and not to be." It carries its own light and evidence with it, 
 and needs no other proofTTie that understands the terms assents 
 to it for its own sake, or else nothing will ever be able to prevail 
 with him to do it. But should that most unshaken rule of moral- 
 ity and foundation of all social virtue, "that one should do as he 
 would be done unto," be proposed to one who never heard of it 
 before, but yet is of capacity to understand its meaning, might 
 he not without any absurdity ask a reason why ? And were not 
 he that proposed it bound to make out the truth and reasonable- 
 ness of it to him? Which plainly shows it not to be innate; for if 
 it were it could neither want nor receive any proof; but must needs 
 (at least as soon as heard and understood) be received and as- 
 sented to as an unquestionable truth, which a man can by no 
 means doubt of. So that the truth of all these moral rules plainly 
 
224 LOCKE 
 
 depends upon some other antecedent to them, and from which 
 they must be deduced; which could not be if either they were 
 innate or so much as self-evident. 
 
 10. Men have contrary practical principles. He that will 
 carefully peruse the history of mankind, and look abroad into 
 the several tribes of men, and with indifferency survey their 
 actions, will be able to satisfy himself that there is scarce that 
 principle of morality to be named, or rule of virtue to be thought 
 on, (those only excepted that are absolutely necessary to hold 
 society together, which commonly too are neglected betwixt 
 distinct societies,) which is not somewhere or other slighted and 
 condemned by the* general fashion of whole societies of men 
 governed by practical opinions and rules of living quite opposite 
 to others. 
 
 1 1 . Whole nations reject several moral rules. Here perhaps 
 it will be objected, that it is no argument that the rule is not 
 known, because it is broken. I grant the objection good where 
 men, though they transgress, yet disown not the law; where 
 fear of shame, censure, or punishment carries the mark of some 
 awe it has upon them. But it is impossible to conceive that a 
 whole nation of men should all publicly reject and renounce 
 what every one of them certainly and infallibly knew to be a 
 law, for so they must who have it naturally imprinted on their 
 minds. It is possible men may sometimes own rules of morality 
 which in their private thoughts they do not believe to be true, 
 only to keep themselves in reputation and esteem amongst those 
 who are persuaded of their obligation. But it is not to b# im- 
 agined that a whole society of men should publicly and pro- 
 fessedly disown and cast off a rule which they could not in their 
 own minds but be infallibly certain was a law; nor be ignorant 
 that all men they should have to do with knew it to be such ; and 
 therefore must every one of them apprehend from others all the 
 contempt and abhorrence due to one who professes himself void 
 of humanity ; and one who, confounding the known and natural 
 measures of right and wrong, cannot but be looked on as the 
 professed enemy of their peace and happiness. Whatever prac- 
 tical principle is innate, cannot but be known to every one to be 
 
ESSAY ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 2- 
 
 just and good. It is therefore little less than a contradiction to 
 suppose^thai ^us of men should, both in their pro- 
 
 ifb&iona emu , unanimously and universally gi\ 
 
 to what, by the most invincible evidence, every one of them 
 knew to bejrue^ right, and good. This is enough to satisfy us 
 that no practical rule which is anywhere universally, and with 
 public approbation or allowance, transgressed, can be supposed 
 innate. But I have something further to add in answer to this 
 objection. 
 
 14. Those who maintain innate practical principles, tell us not 
 what they are. The difference there is amongst men in their 
 practical principles is so evident that I think I need say no more 
 to evince that it will be impossible to find any innate moral rules 
 by this mark of general assent; and it is enough to make one 
 suspect that the supposition of such innate principles is but an 
 opinion taken up at pleasure, since those who talk so confidently 
 of them are so sparing to tell us which they are. This might with 
 justice be expected from those men whoTay stress upon this 
 opinion ; and it gives occasion to distrust either their knowledge 
 or charity, who, declaring that God has imprinted on the minds 
 of men the foundations of knowledge and the rules of living, 
 are yet so little favourable to the information of their neighbours 
 or the quiet of mankind, as not to point out to them which they 
 are, in the variety men are distracted with. But, in truth, were 
 there any such innate principles there would be no need to teach 
 them. Did men find such innate propositions stamped on their 
 mindr, they would easily be able to distinguish them from other 
 truths that they afterwards learned and deduced from them, and 
 there would be nothing more easy than to know what and how 
 many they were. There could be no more doubt about their 
 number, than there is about the number of our fingers ; and it is 
 like then every system would be ready to give them us by tale. 
 But since nobody, that I know, has ventured yet to give a cata- 
 logue of them, they cannot blame those who doubt of these in- 
 nate principles, since even they who require men to believe that 
 there are such innate propositions, do not tell us what they are. 
 
 '' easy to foresee, that if different men of different sects should 
 
226 LOCKE 
 
 go about to give, us a list of those innate practical principles, 
 they would set down only such as suited their distinct hypotheses, 
 and were fit to support the doctrines of their particular schools 
 or churches; a plain evidence that there are no such innate truths. 
 Nay, a great part of men are so far from finding any such innate 
 moral principles in themselves, that by denying freedom to man- 
 kind, and thereby making men no other than bare machines, 
 they take away not only innate, but all moral rules whatsoever, 
 and leave not a possibility to believe any such to those who can- 
 not conceive how anything can be capable of a law that is not a 
 free agent; and upon that ground they must necessarily reject 
 all principles of virtue who cannot put morality and mechanism 
 together, which are not very easy to be reconciled or made con- 
 sistent. 
 
 BOOK II 
 
 CHAPTER I. OF IDEAS IN GENERAL, AND 
 THEIR ORIGINAL 
 
 1. Idea is the object of thinking. Every man being con- 
 scious to himself, that he thinks, and that which his mind is 
 applied about, whilst thinking, being the ideas that .are there^ it 
 Is past doubt that men have in their mind several 1 ideas,- such 
 as are those expressed by the words, whiteness, hardness, sweet- 
 ness, thinking, 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 haye 
 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 w^ys 
 and degrees they may come into the mind; for which I shall 
 appeal to every one's own observation and experience. 
 
 2. All ideas come from sensation or reflection. Let us then 
 suppose the mind to be, as we say, white paper, void of all char- 
 
ESSAY ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 227 
 
 acters, without any ideas : How comes it to be furnished ? Whence 
 comes it by that vast store, which the busy and boundless fancy 
 of man has painted on it with an almost endless variety ? Whence 
 has it all the materials of reason and knowledge ? To this I an- 
 swer, in one word, From experience. In that all our knowledge 
 is founded, and from that it ultimately derives itself. Our ob- 
 servation, employed either about external sensible objects, or 
 about the internal operations of our minds, perceived and re- 
 flected on by ourselves, is that which supplies our understand- 
 ings with all the materials of thinking. These two are the foun- 
 tains of knowledge, from whence all the ideas we have, or can 
 naturally have, do spring. 
 
 3. The object oj sensation one source oj ideas. First. Our 
 senses, conversant about particular sensible objects, do convey 
 into the mind several distinct perceptions of things, according 
 to those various ways wherein those objects do affect them; and 
 thus we come by those ideas we have of yellow, white, heat, cold, 
 soft, hard, bitter, sweet, and all those which we call sensible 
 qualities; which when I say the senses convey into the mind, I 
 mean, they from external objects convey into the mind what 
 produces there those perceptions. This great source of mos.t of 
 the ideas we have, depending wholly upon our t senses, and de- 
 rived 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 furnish- 
 eth the understanding with ideas, is th 
 
 tions of our own minds_withm us, as it is' employed about the 
 ideas it has got; which operations when the soul comes to reflect 
 on and consider, do furnish the understanding with another set. 
 of ideas which could not be had from things without; and such 
 are perception, thinking, doubting, believing, reasoning, know- 
 ing, willing, and all the different actings of our own minds; which 
 we, being conscious of, ? ' - rrving in ourselves, do from 
 these receive into our unc 1 ;i andinj s as distinct ideas, as we do 
 from bodies affecting our * ais source of ideas every man 
 
 has wholly in himself; < it be not sense as having no- 
 
 thing to do with exterr yet it is very like it, and might 
 
228 LOCKE 
 
 properly enough be called internal sense. But as I call 
 other sensation, so I call this REFLECTION, the ideas it affords 
 being such only as the mind gets by reflecting on its own opera- 
 tions within itself. By reflection, then, in the following part of 
 this discourse, I would be understood to mean that notice which 
 the mind takes of its own operations, and the manner of them, 
 by reason whereof there come to be ideas of these operations 
 in the understanding. These two, I say, viz., external material 
 things as the objects of sensation, and the operations of our own 
 minds within as the objects of reflection, are, to me, the only 
 originals from whence all our ideas take their beginnings. The 
 term operations here, I use in a large sense, as comprehending 
 not barely the actions of the mind about its ideas, but some sort 
 of passions arising sometimes from them, such as is the satisfac- 
 tion 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. Ex- 
 ternal objects furnish the mind with the ideas of sensible quali- 
 ties, which are all those different perceptions they produce in us; 
 and the mind furnishes the understanding with ideas of its own 
 operations. 
 
 These, when we have taken a full survey of them, and tljeir 
 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 understanding, and then let him tell me, whether all the 
 original ideas he has there, are any other than of the objects of 
 his senses, or of the operations of his mind considered as objects 
 of his reflection; and how great a mass of knowledge soever he 
 imagines to be lodged there, he will, upon taking a strict view, 
 see that he has not any idea in his mind but what one of these 
 two have imprinted, though perhaps with infinite variety com- 
 pounded and ^nlnrorprl hv the understanding, as we shall see 
 hereafter. 
 
ESSAY ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDINGS 229 
 
 CHAPTER II. OF SIMPLE IDEAS 
 
 1. Uncompounded appearances. The better to understand 
 the nature, manner, and extent of our knowledge, one thing 
 is carefully to be observed concerning the ideas we have; and 
 that is, that some of them are simple, and some complex. 
 
 Though the qualities that affect our senses are, in the things 
 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 . 
 colour, the riandJejds-_softnes^.And warmth in the same piece 
 of wax yet the simple ideas thus united in the same subject 
 are as perfectly distinct as those that come in by different senses ; 
 the coldness and hardness which a man feels in a piece of ice 
 being as distinct ideas in the mind as the smell and whiteness 
 of a lily, or as the taste of sugar and smell of a rose : and there 
 is nothing can be plainer to a man than the clear and distinct 
 perception he has of those simple ideas; which, being each in'f 
 itself_uncompounded, contains in it nothing but one uniform, 
 appearance or conception in the mind, and is not distinguish-' 
 able into different ideas. 
 
 2. The mind can neither 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 men- 
 tioned, viz., sensation^ and reflection. When the understand- 
 ing 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 under-* 
 standing, 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 understand- 
 ing destroy those that are there :/ the dominion of man in this 
 little world of his own understanding, being much- what the 
 
 ' "fe 4 
 
230 LOCKE 
 
 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 making the least particle 
 of new matter, or destroying one atom of what is already in 
 being. . . . 
 
 CHAPTER III. OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF SENSE 
 
 i. Division of simple ideas. The better to conceive the 
 ideas we receive from sensation, it may not be amiss for us to 
 consider them in reference to the different ways whereby they 
 make their approaches to our minds, and make themselves, per- 
 ceivable 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 sensatioir 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 Pastes 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 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 almost 
 
ESSAY ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 231 
 
 wholly in the sensible configuration, as smooth and rough; or 
 else more or less firm adhesion of the parts, as hard and soft, 
 tough and brittle are obvious enough. 
 
 2. 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. ... I shall 
 therefore, in the account of simple ideas I am here giving, con- ( 
 tent myself to set down only such as are most material to our/' 
 present purpose, or are in -themselves less apt to be taken noticed 
 of, though they are very frequently the ingredients of our com- 
 plex 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 th^t supports i^ and hinders our farther sinking down- 
 wards. ; and the bodies which we daily handle make us perceive 
 that whilst they remain between them, they do, by an insur- 
 mountable 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 solid- 
 ity. I will not dispute whether this acceptation of the word 
 "solid" be nearer to its original signification than that which 
 mathematicians use it in; it suffices that, I think, the common 
 notion of "solidity," will allow, if not justify, this use of it; but 
 if any one think it better to call it impenetrability, he has 
 my consent. Only 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 carries something more of positive 
 in it than impenetrability, which is negative, and is, perhaps, 
 
232 
 
 LOCKE 
 
 more a consequence of solidity than solidity itself. This, of all 
 other, seems the idea most intimately connected with and essen- 
 tial to body, so as nowhere else to be found or imagined but only 
 in matter; and though our senses take no notice of it but in 
 masses of matter, of a bulk sufficient to cause a sensation in us; 
 yet the mind, having once got this idea from such grosser sensible 
 bodies, traces it farther and considers it, as well as figure, in the 
 minutest particle of matter that can exist, and finds it inseparably 
 inherent in body, wherever or however modified. 
 
 2. Solidity fills space. This is the idea which belongs to 
 body, whereby we conceive it to fill space. The idea of which 
 filling of space is, that where we imagine any spae taken up by 
 a solid substance, we conceive it so to possess it that it excludes 
 all other solid substances, 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 between 
 them in a line not parallel to that which they move in. This idea 
 of it, the bodies which we ordinarily handle sufficiently furnish 
 us with. 
 
 3. Distinct from space. This resistance, whereby it keeps 
 other bodies out of the space which it possesses, is so great that 
 no force, how great soever, can surmount 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 con- 
 ceive two bodies at a distance so as they may approach one 
 another without touching or displacing any solid thing till their 
 superficies come to meet; whereby, I think, we have the clear 
 idea of space without solidity. For (not to go so far as annihila- 
 tion 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 another, than the idea of a square figure in one 
 
ESSAY ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 233 
 
 body includes 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 cer- 
 tainly 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 j 
 distinct ideas of space and solidity; which are as different as re- 
 sistance 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 differenced from 
 hardness, in that solidity consists in repletion, and so an utter 
 exclusion of other bodies out of the space it possesses; but hard- , 
 ness, in a firm cohesion 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 
 Sings 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. 
 
 5. On solidity depends impulse, resistance, <nd protrusion. - 
 By this idea of solidity is the extension of body distinguished 
 from the extension of space : the extension of body being nothing 
 but the cohesion or continuity of solid, separable, movable parts; 
 and the extension of space, the continuity of unsolid, inseparable, 
 
234 LOCKE 
 
 and immovable parts. Upon the solidity of bodies also depends 
 their mutual impulse, resistance, and protrusion. Of pure space, 
 then, and solidity, there are several (amongst which I confess 
 myself one) who persuade themselves they have clear and dis- 
 tinct ideas: and that they can think on space without any thing 
 in it that resists or is protruded by body. This is tr^ 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 other bodies, or resist their mo- 
 tion. If there be others that have not these two ideas distinct, 
 but confound them, and make but one of them, I know not how 
 men who have the same idea under different names, or different 
 ideas under the same name, can in that case talk with one an- 
 other; 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- coloAir with the blind man I 
 mention in another place, who fancied that the idea of scarlet 
 was like the sound of a trumpet. 
 
 6. What it is. If any one asks me, What this solidity is, I 
 send him to his senses to inform him : let him put a flint or a foot- 
 ball between his hands, and then endeavour to join them, and he 
 will know. If he thinks this not a sufficient explication of solid- 
 ity, 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 mo- 
 tion 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 talking, and to discourse into 
 him the ideas of light and colours. The reason of this I shall 
 show in another place. \ 
 
ESSAY ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 235 
 
 CHAPTER VI. OF SIMPLE IDEAS OF REFLECTION 
 
 1. Simple idea^ oj reflection are the operations 0} the mind about 
 its other ideas. The mind, receiving the ideas mentioned in 
 the foregoing chapters from without, when it turns its view in- 
 ward 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 oj perception, and idea oj willing, we have from 
 reflection. The two great and principal actions of the mind, 
 which are most frequently considered, and which are so frequent 
 that every one that pleases may take notice of them in himself, 
 are 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 denominated " faculties."] . . . 
 
 
 
 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 them- 
 selves to almost all our ideas both of sensation and reflection; 
 and there is scarce any affection of our senses from without, any 
 retired thought of our mind within, which is not able to produce 
 in us pleasure or pain. By "pleasure" and "pain," I would be 
 understood to signify whatsoever delights or molests us ; whether 4 
 it arises from the thoughts of our minds, or any thing operating 
 on our bodies. For whether we call it "satisfaction, delight, 
 pleasure, happiness," &c., on the one side, or "uneasiness, 
 trouble, pain, torment, anguish, misery," &c., on the other, they 
 are still but different degrees of the sarr e thing, and belong to the 
 
236 LOCKE 
 
 ideas of pleasure and pain, delight or uneu s; which are 
 the names I shall most commonly use or those two sorts of 
 ideas. 
 
 6. Pleasure and pain. Though wha' ! :iere said may 
 not perhaps make the ideas of pleasure and pain clearer to us 
 than our own experience does, which is the . <; y vvay that we are 
 capable of having them; yet the consideration of the reason why 
 they are annexed to so many other ideas, serving-to give us due 
 sentiments of the wisdom and goodness of the Sovereign Dis- 
 poser 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 
 understandings. 
 
 7. Existence and unity. Existence and unity are two other' 
 ideas that are suggested to the understanding by every object 
 without, and every idea within. When ideas are in our minds, 
 we consider them as being actually there, as well as we consider 
 things to be actually without us : which is, that they exist, orliave 
 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 our- 
 selves 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 occur- 
 ring 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 succes- 
 sion. For if we look immediately into ourselves, and reflect on 
 what is observable there, we shall find our ideas always, whilst 
 we are awake or have any thought, passing in train, one going 
 and another coming without intermission.^ 
 
 10. Simple ideas the materials oj all our knowledge. These, 
 if they are not all, are at ^east (as I think) the most considerable 
 
ESSAY ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 237 
 
 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. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. SOME FARTHER CONSIDERA- 
 TIONS CONCERNING OUR SIMPLE 
 IDEAS OF SENSATION 
 
 1. Positive ideas from privative causes. Concerning the 
 simple ideas of Sensation it is to be considered, that whatsoever 
 is so constituted in nature as to be able, by affecting our senses, 
 to cause any perception in the mind, both thereby produce in the 
 understanding ajsimple 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 lopkeoLoii and considered there to be a 
 real positive idea in the understanding, "as much as any otherj 
 whatsoever; though perhaps *he cause of it be but a privation in 
 the subject. 
 
 2. Thus the ideas of hea^and cold, light and darkness, white 
 and black, motion and rest, are equally clear and positive ideas 
 in the mind ; though perhaps some of the causes which produce 
 them are barely pnvations 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 
 different things, and carefully to be distinguished ; it being one 
 thing to perceive and know the idea bf white or black, and quite 
 another to examine what kind of particles they must be, and 
 how ranged in the superficies, to make any object appear white 
 or black. 
 
 7. Ideas in the mind, qualities in b'odies. To discover the 
 nature of our ideas the better, and to discourse of them intelli- 
 gibly, it will be convenient to distinguish them, as they are ideas- 
 or perceptions in our minds: and as they are modifications of 
 
238 LOCKE; 
 
 matter in the bodies that cause such perceptions in us; that so 
 we may not think (as perhaps usually is done) that they are 
 exactly the images and resemblances of something inherent in, 
 the subject; most of those of sensation being in the mind no more- 
 the likeness of something existing without us than the narnes_- 
 that stand for them are the likeness of our ideas, which yet upon - 
 hearing they are apt to excite in us. 
 
 8. Whatsoever the mind perceives in itself, or is the immediate 
 object of perception, thought, or understanding, that I call idea; 
 and the power to produce any idea in our mind, I call quality 
 of the subject wherein that power is. Thus a snowball having 
 the power to produce in us the ideas of white, cold, and round, 
 the power to produce those ideas in us as they are in the snow- 
 ball, I call qualities ; and as they are sensations or perceptions 
 in our understandings, I call them ideas; which ideas, if I 
 speak of them sometimes as in the things themselves, I would 
 
 /be understood to mean those qualities in the objects which pro- 
 duce 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 
 inseparable from every particle of matter, though less than 'to 
 make itself singly be perceived by our senses; v. g., take a grain 
 of wheat, divide it into two parts, each part has still solidity, 
 extension, figure, and mobility; divide it again, and it retains 
 still the same qualities: and so divide it on till the parts become 
 insensible, they must retain still each of them all those qualities. 
 For, division (which is all that a mill or pestle or any other body 
 does upon another, in reducing it to insensible parts) can never 
 take away either solidity, extension, figure, or mobility from any 
 body, but only makes two or more distinct separate masses of 
 matter of that which was but one before; all which distinct 
 masses, reckoned as so many distinct bodies, after division, make 
 a ceffain number. [These I call original or primary qualities of 
 
NTDI STANDING 239 
 
 body, which 1 ! think we may observe to produce simple ideas 
 in us, viz., solidity, extension, figure, motion or rest, and num- 
 ber. 
 
 10. Secondary qualities. Secondly. Such qualities^ which 
 in truth_are nothing in the objects themselves, but powers to 
 produce various sensations in us by their primary qualities, i. e^ . 
 by the bulk, figure, texture, and motion of their insensible parts, 
 as colours, sounds, tastes, &c., these I call secondary qualities. 
 To these might be added a third sort, which are allowed to be 
 barely powers, though they are as much real qualities in the 
 subject as those which I, to comply with the common way of 
 speaking, call qualities, but, for 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 sen- 
 sation of warmth or burning, which I felt not before, by the! 
 same primary qualities, viz., the bulk, texture, and motion of 
 its insensible parts.] 
 
 11. [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 con- 
 ceive bodies to operate in.] 
 
 12. If, then, external objects be not united to our minds when 
 they produce ideas therein, and yet we perceive these original ' 
 qualities in such of them as singly fall under our senses, it is 
 evident that some motion must be thence continued by our 
 nerves, or animal spirits, by some parts of our bodies, to the 
 brain, or the seat of sensation, therejo produce in our minds 
 the particular ideas we have of them. And since the extension, 
 figure, number, and motion of bodies of an observable bigness, 
 may be perceived at a distance by the sight, it is evident some 
 singly imperceptible bodies must come from them to the eyes, 
 and thereby convey to the brain some motion which produces 
 these ideas which we have of them in us. 
 
 13. How 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 
 
.:4.o LOCKE 
 
 he operation of insensible particles on our senses For it being 
 nanifest that there are bodies, and good store of bodies, each 
 whereof are so small that we cannot by any 01 our senses dis- 
 :over either their bulk, figure, or motion (as is evident 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 hail- 
 stones):, let us suppose at present that the different motions and 
 figures, bulk and number, of such particles, affecting the several 
 organs of our senses, produce in us those different sensations 
 which we have from the colours and smells of bodies; v. g., that 
 a violet, by the impulse of such insensible particles oi matter of 
 peculiar figures and bulks, and in different degrees and modifi- 
 cations of their motions, causes the ideas of the blue colour and 
 sweet scent of that flower to be produced in our minds; it being 
 no more impossible to conceive that God should annex such ideas 
 | to such motions, with which they have no similitude, than that 
 he should annex the idea of pain to the motion of a piece of steel 
 dividing our flesh, with which 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 sensi- 
 ble qualities ; which, whatever reality we by mistake attribute to 
 them, arejnjmth^othing Jnjhe -.objects ..tjjemsdyes, hujjDowers 
 to produce various sensations in us, and depend on those primary 
 qualities, viz., bulk, figure, texture, and motion of parts [as J 
 have said]. // 
 
 15. Ideas of primary qualities are resemblances; of secondary, 
 not. From whence I think it is easy to draw this observatioki, 
 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. 
 
ESSAY ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 241 
 
 1 6. Flame is denominated hot and light; snow, white and 
 cold; and manna, white and sweet, from the ideas they produce 
 in us, which qualities are commonly thought to be the same in 
 those bodies that those ideas are in us, the one the perfect re- 
 semblance of the other, as they are in a mirror; and it would by 
 most men be judged very extravagant, if one should say other- 
 wise. And yet he that will consider that the same fire that at one 
 distance produces in us the sensation of warmth, does at a nearer 
 approach produce in us the far different sensation of pain, ought 
 to bethink 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 in us; and can do neither but by the bulk, figure, number, 
 and motion of its solid parts? 
 
 17. The particular bulk, number, figure, and motion of the 
 parts of fire or snow are really in them, whether any one's senses 
 perceive them or no; and therefore they may be called real quali- / 
 ties, because they really exist in those bodies. But light, heat, 1 
 whiteness, or coldness, are no more really in them than sickness 
 or pain is in manna. Take away the sensation of them; let not 
 the eyes see light or colours, nor the ears hear sounds; let the 
 palate not taste, nor the nose smell ; and all colours, tastes, odours, 
 and sounds, as they are such particular ideas, vanish and cease, 
 and are reduced to their causes, i. e., bulk, figure, and motion of 
 parts. 
 
 23. Three sorts of qualities in bodies. The qualities then 
 that are in bodies, rightly considered, are of three sorts: 
 
 First. The bulk, figure, number, situation, and motion or 
 rest of their solid parts; those are in them, whether we perceive 
 them or 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 reason of its 
 insensible primary qualities, to operate after a peculiar manner 
 on any of our senses, and thereby produce in us the different 
 
2 4 2 LOCKE 
 
 ideas of several colours, sounds, smells, tastes, &c. These are 
 ( usually called sensible qualities. 
 
 Thirdly. The power that is in any body, by reason of the 
 particular constitution of its primary qualities, to make such a 
 change in the bulk, figure, texture, and motion of another body, 
 as to make it operate on our senses differently from what it did 
 before. Thus the sun has a power to make wax white, and fire, 
 to make lead fluid. [These are usually called powers.] 
 
 The first of these, as has been said, I think may be properly 
 called real, original, or primary qualities, because they are in the 
 things themselves, whether they are perceived or no; and upon 
 their different modifications it is that the secondary qualities 
 depend. 
 
 The other two are only powers to act differently upon 4 other 
 things, which powers result from the different modifications of 
 those primary qualities. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. OF PERCEPTION 
 
 1. Perception the first simple idea of reflection. Perception, 
 | as it is the first faculty of the mind exercised about our ideas, 
 ; so it is the first and simplest idea we have from reflection, and 
 
 is by some called " thinking" in general. Though thinking, in 
 the propriety of the English tongue, signifies that sort of opera- 
 tion of the mind about its ideas wherein the mind is active; where 
 it, with some degree of voluntary 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 refleetirfg 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 
 
 t ' { 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 
 
ESSAY ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 243 
 
 on the outward parts, if they are not taken notice of within; 
 there is no perception. Fire may burn our bodies with no other 
 effect than it does a Juliet, unless the motion be continued to the 
 brain, and there the sense of heat or idea of pain be produced in 
 the mind, wherein consists actual perception. 
 
 sensatinft Q j f,pn Changed hy j,fafi judgment.. We 
 
 are farther to consider concerning perception, that the ideas we 
 receive by sensation are often in grown people altered by the 
 judgment without our taking notice i3f~itT-- : Wheri_w'e--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 imprinted in our 
 mind is of a flat circle variously shadowed, with several degrees 
 of light and brightness coming to our eyes. But we having, by 
 use, been accustomed to perceive what kind of appearance con- ; 
 vex 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 knowledge, 
 the learned and worthy Mr. Molineaux, which he was pleased 
 to send me in a letter some months since : and it is this : " Suppose 
 a man born blind, and now adult, and taught by his touch to 
 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 
 the other, which is the cube, which the sphere. Suppose 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 distinguish and tell which is the globe, which 
 the cube ? " To which the acute and judicious proposer answers : 
 " Not. For though he has obtained the experience of how a globe, 
 how a cube, affects his touch; yet he has not yet obtained the 
 experirnce, that what affects his touch so or so, must affect his 
 
244 LOCKE 
 
 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 unerringly name them 
 by his touch, and certainly distinguish them by the difference 
 of their figures felt. This I have set down, and leave with my 
 reader, as an occasion for him to consider how much he may be 
 beholden to experience, improvement, and acquired notions, 
 where he thinks he 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 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 
 
 other. This, in many cases, by a settled habit in things whereof 
 
 we have frequent experience, is performed so constantly and so 
 
 quick, that we take that for the 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, 
 
 I but of the ideas that are excited in him by them. 
 
 15. Perception the inlet of knowledge. Perception, 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 
 
ESSAY ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 245 
 
 are employed about them, the more remote are they from that 
 knowledge which is to be found in some men. But this, being 
 in great variety of degrees (as may be perceived 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. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. OF COMPLEX IDEAS 
 
 i. Made by the mind out oj simple ones. We have hitherto 
 considered those ideas, in the reception whereof the mind is only 
 passive, which are those simple ones received from sensation 
 and reflection before mentioned, whereof the mind cannot make 
 one to itself, nor have any idea which does not wholly consist of 
 them. [But as the mind is wholly passive in the reception of all 
 its simple Jd.as, so it exerts several acts ot' its own, whereby out 
 of its simple ideas, as the materials and foundations of the rest, 
 the others are framed. The acts of the mind wherein it exerts its 
 power over its simple ideas are chiefly these three: (i) Com- 
 bining several simple ideas into one compound one; and thus 
 all complex ideas are made. (2) The second is bringing two 
 ideas, whethex^sjmple 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 oj rda- 
 ti n .s- (3) The third is separating them from all other ideas 
 that accompany them in their real existence; this is called "ab- 
 straction:" and thus all its general ideas are made. This shows 
 
 * The other operations of the mind discussed by Locke under simple ideas 
 are retention or memory, discerning, comparing, compounding, and abstraction. 
 His conclusion is then as follows: chap, xi, 15. These are the beginnings 
 oj human knowledge. And thus I have given a short and, I think, true his- 
 tory 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 con- 
 clude they are as we fancy of ourselves, or have been taught by others to imagine. 
 
246 LOCKE 
 
 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 to- 
 gether as one idea; and that not only -as they are united in ex- 
 ternal 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. 
 
 2. Made voluntarily. In this faculty of repeating and join- 
 ing together its ideas, the mind has great power in varying and 
 multiplying the objects of its thoughts infinitely beyond wha) 
 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 compositions. For, 
 simple ideas are all from things themselves; and of these the 
 mind can have no more nor other than what are suggested to it. 
 It can have no other ideas of sensible qualities tharr x what come 
 from without by the senses, nor any ideas of other kind of opera- 
 tions of a thinking substance than what it finds in itself: but 
 when it has once got these simple ideas, it is not confined barofy 
 to observation, and what offers itself from without; it can, by 
 its own power, put together those ideas it has, and make new 
 complex ones which it never received so united. 
 
 3. Are either modes, substances, or relations. Complex ideas, 
 however compounded and decompounded, though their num- 
 ber be infinite, and the variety endless wherewith they fill and 
 entertain the thoughts of men, yet I think they may be all re- 
 duced under these three heads : i. Modes. 2. Substances. 3. Re- 
 lations. 
 
ESSAY ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 247 
 
 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, substances; such are the ideas signified by thej 
 words, triagl^ l> ratitude, murder, &c. And if in this I use 
 the word "mode" in jsorne^Jiat a different sense from its ordi- 
 nary signification,^ beg^pardSjn; it being unavoidable in dis- 
 courses differing fronTthe ordinary received notions, either to 
 make new words or to use old words in somewhat a new signi- 
 fication : the latter whereof, in our present case, is perhaps the 
 more tolerable of the two. 
 
 5. Simple and mixed modes. Of these modes there are two 
 sorts which "deserve" distinct consideration. 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 particular things subsisting by themselves, I 
 in which the supposea or confused idea of substance, such as it 
 is, is always the firs' 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 combination 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 single 
 substances, a itely, as of a man or a sheep; the 
 
248 LOCKE 
 
 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 com-* 
 paring 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 attention observe how it 
 repeats, adds together, and unites its simple ideas received from 
 sensation or reflection, it will lead us farther than at first per- 
 haps 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 to- 
 gether 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 reflection, being no other 
 than what the mind, by the ordinary use of its own faculties, 
 employed about ideas received from objects of sense, or from 
 the operations it observes in itself about them, may and does 
 attain unto. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. OF OUR COMPLEX IDEAS OF 
 SUBSTAN 
 
 i. Ideas of substances, how made. ic mind being, as I 
 have declared, furnished with a great n r of the simple ideas 
 conveyed in by the senses, as they are \ < in exterior things, 
 or by reflection on its own operations/ta js otice, also, that a 
 certain number of these simple ideas g. , --stantly together; 
 which being presumed to belong to one th nd words being 
 suited to common apprehensions, and ma < ;e of for quick 
 despatch, are called, so united in one suh L by one name; 
 which, by inadvertency, we are apt afterw to talk of and 
 
ESSAY ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 249 
 
 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_sjiipppje_^ojne_5w^ra/ww wherein they do subsist, | 
 and from which they do result; which therefore we call sub- I 
 stance. 
 
 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 exten- 
 sion inhere in," he would not be in a much better case than the 
 Indian before mentioned, who, saying that the world was sup- 
 ported 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, I 
 replied, something, he knew not what. And thus here, as in 
 all other cases where we use words without having clear and 
 distinct ideas, we talk like children ; who, being questioned what 
 such a thing is which they know not, readily give this satisfac- j 
 tory 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 per- 
 fectly ignorant of it, and in the dark. The idea, then, we have, 
 to which we give the general name substance, being nothing 
 but the supposed, but unknown, support of those qualities we 
 find existing, which we imagine cannot subsist sine re substante, 
 "without something to support them," we call that support 
 substantia; which, according to the true import of the word, is, 
 in plain English, standing under, or upholding. 
 
 3. Of the sorts of substances. An obscure and relative idea 
 of substance in general being thus made, we come to have the 
 
250 LOCKE 
 
 ideas of particular sorts of substances, by collecting such com- 
 binations 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 constitution 
 or unknown essence of that substance. Thus we come to have. 
 the ideas of a man, horse, gold, water, &c., of which substances, 
 whether any one has any other clear idea, farther than of certain 
 simple ideas co-existing 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 a smith or a jeweller commonly knows 
 better than a philosopher; who, whatever substantial forms he 
 may talk of, has no other idea of those substances than what is 
 framed by a collection of those simple ideas which are to be 
 found in them. Only we must take notice, that our complex 
 ideas of substances, besides all these simple ideas they are made 
 up of, have always the confused 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 loadstone. These and the like fashions of speaking, 
 : intimate that the substance is supposed always something besides 
 the extension, figure, solidity, motion, thinking, or other observ- 
 , able 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 corporeal substances/, as 
 horse, stone, &c., though the idea we have of either of them be 
 but the complication or collection of those several simple ideas 
 of sensible qualities which we 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, wer r 
 
 existing in, and supported by, some common subject; which 
 support we denote by the name substance, though it be certain 
 we have no clear or distinct idea of that thing we suppose a 
 support. 
 
ESSAY ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 251 
 
 5. As dear an idea of spirit as body. The same happens, 
 concerning the operations of the mind; viz., thinking, reasoning, j 
 fearing, &c., which we, concluding not to subsist of themselves, ! 
 nor apprehending liow they can belong to body, or be produced 
 by it, we are apt to think these the_ actions of some other sub- 
 stance^ which we call spirit^ whereby yet it is evident, that hav- 
 ing 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 sup- 
 posed 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 opera- 
 tions 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 apprehensions as that of spiritual substance, 
 or spirit; and therefore, from our not having any notion of the 
 substance of spirit, we can no more conclude its non-existence 
 than we can, for the same reason, deny the existence of body: 
 it being as rational to affirm there is no body, because we have 
 no clear and distinct idea of the substance of matter, as to say 
 there is no spirit, because we have no clear and distinct idea of 
 the substance of a spirit. 
 
 6. Of the sorts of substances. Whatever therefore 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 combinations of simple ideas co-existing in such, 
 though unknown, 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 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 language, frames in his 
 mind a combination of those several simple ideas which he has 
 usually observed or fancied to exist together under that denomi- 
 
252 . LOCKE 
 
 nation; all which he supposes to rest in, and be, as it were, ad- 
 herent 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 substance, v. g., let it be gold, horse, iron, man, 
 vitriol, bread, but what he has barely of, those sensible qualities 
 which he supposes to inhere with a supposition of such a sub- 
 stratum as gives, as it were, a support to those qualities, or simple 
 ideas, which he has observed to exist united together. Thus, 
 the idea of the sun What is it but an aggregate of those 
 several simple ideas, bright, hot, roundish, having a constant 
 regular motion, at a certain distance from us, and perhaps 
 some other? as he who thinks and discourses of the sun has 
 been more or less accurate in observing those sensible quali- 
 ties, ideas, or properties which are in that thing which he calls 
 the sun. 
 
 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_quali- 
 ties of things which are discovered by our senses, and are in 
 them even when we perceive them not : such are the bulk, figure, 
 number, situation, and motion of the parts of bodies; which are 
 really in them, whether we take notice of them or no. Secondly. 
 The sensible secondary qualities, which, depending on these, are 
 nothing but the powers those substances have to produce several 
 j ideas in us by our senses; which ideas are not in the things them- 
 selves otherwise than v as any thing is in its cause. Thirdly. The 
 aptness we consider in any substance to give or receive such 
 alterations of primary qualities as that the substance so altered 
 should produce in us different ideas from what it did before; 
 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 particles of iron, we should 
 have no notion of any power it had at all to operate on iron, did 
 not its sensible motion discover it; and I doubt not but there 
 are a thousand changes that bodies we daily handle have a 
 
ESSAY ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 253 
 
 power to cause in one another, which we never suspect, because / 
 they never appear in sensible effects. 
 
 37. Recapitulation. And thus we have seen what kind of 
 ideas we have of substances of all kinds, wherein they consist, 
 and how we came by them. From whence, I think, it is very 
 evident, 
 
 First, That all our ideas of the several sorts of substances 
 are nothing but collection g nf ,gimp1p irlpqg with & supposition 
 of something to which they belong, and in which they subsist; i 
 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 intimately acquainted with, and that come nearest 
 the comprehension 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 sur- 
 pass any thing we can perceive in ourselves by reflection, or dis- 
 cover by sensation in' other things, we can attain to nothing but 
 those simple ideas which we originally received from sensation 
 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 com- 
 plex ideas of substances, when truly considered, are only powers, 
 however we are apt to take them for positive qualities : v. g., the 
 greatest part of the ideas that make our complex idea of gold 
 are yellowness, great weight, ductility, fusibility, and solubility 
 in aqua regia, &c., all united together in an unknown substra- 
 tum : all which ideas are nothing else but so many relations to 
 other substances, and are not really in the gold considered barely 
 in itself, though they depend on those real and primary qualities 
 of its internal constitution, whereby it has a fitness differently 
 to operate and be operated on by several other substances. 
 
254 LOCKE 
 
 BOOK IV 
 
 CHAPTER III. OF THE EXTENT OF HUMAN 
 KNOWLEDGE 
 
 1. Knowledge, as has been said, lying in the perception 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. 
 
 2. Secondly, No farther than we can perceive their agreement ) 
 or disagreement. Secondly, That we can have no knowledge 
 .farther than we can have perception of that agreement or dis- 
 agreement: which perception being, (i) Either by intuition, 
 or the immediate 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 sensation, 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 itself 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 juxta- 
 position, or an immediate comparison one wTfrT another. Thus, 
 having the ideas of an obtuse and an acute- angled triangle, both 
 drawn from equal bases, and between parallels, I can 'by intui- 
 tive knowledge perceive the one not to be the other; but cannot 
 that way know whether they be equal or no: because their agree- 
 ment or disagreement in equality can never be perceived by an 
 immediate comparing them : the difference of figure makes their 
 parts incapable of an exact immediate application; and there- 
 . fore there is need of some intervening qualities to measure them 
 by, which is demonstration 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 al- 
 
ESSAY ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 255 
 
 ways find such mediums as we can connect one to another with \^, 
 an intuitive knowledge, in all the parts of the deduction; and 
 wherever that fails, we come short of knowledge and demon- 
 stration. 
 
 5. Fifthly, Sensitive knowledge narrower than either. - 
 Fifthly, Sensitive knowledge, reaching no farther than the ex- 
 istence of things actually present~to-oir_sense_s, 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 extent of our knowledge 
 comes not only short of the reality of things, but even of the ex- 1 
 tent of our^wnjdeas. 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 understandings not tied down to the dull 
 and narrow information that is to be received from some few 
 and not very ajnte 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 con- 
 cerning the ideas we have, whereof we are not, nor I believe ever 
 shall be in this world, resolved. Nevertheless, I do not question 
 but that human knowledge, under the present circumstances of 
 our beings and constitutions, 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 im- 
 proving the means of discovering truth which they do for the j ' 
 colouring or support of falsehood, to maintain a system, interest, I 
 or party they are once engaged in. 
 
 But, to return to the argument in hand: our knowledge, I 
 say, is not only limited to the 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 affirmations or ne- 
 gations we make concerning the ideas we have, may, as I have 
 before intimated in general, be reduced to these four sorts, viz., 
 
256 LOCKE 
 
 identity, co-existence, relation, and real existence. I shall ex- 
 amine how far our knowledge extends in each of these :. 
 
 8. First. Our knowledge oj identity and diversity, as jar as our 
 ideas. First, As to identity and diversity, 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 
 I the mind which it does not presently, by an intuitive knowledge, 
 ( 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, 
 
 jjthough in this consists the greatest and most material part of 
 
 Uour knowledge concerning substances. For our ideas of the 
 
 species of substances being, as I have showed, nothing but cer- 
 
 i tain collections of simple ideas united in one subject, 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.tphese, 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 concerning these, or 
 
 any other sort of substances, what do we inquire but what other 
 
 qualities or powers these substances have or have not ? which is 
 
 nothing else but to know what other simple ideas do or do not 
 
 1 co-exist with those that make up that complex idea. 
 
 1 8. Thirdly, Of other relations, it is not easy to say how jar. - 
 As to the third sort of our knowledge, viz., the agreement or dis- 
 / agreement of any of our ideas in any other relation : this, as it "is 
 I 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 inter- 
 mediate ideas that may show the relations and habitudes of ideas, 
 whose co-existence is not considered, 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 examin- 
 ing the agreement or disagreement of remote ideas. They that 
 axe ignorant of algebra, cannot imagine the wonders in this kind 
 
ESSAY ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 257 
 
 to be done by it: and what farther improvements and helps, ad- 
 vantageous 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 contemplation would afford us 
 certainty, if vices, passions, and domineering interest did not 
 oppose or menace such endeavours. 
 
 23^. Fourthly, Of real existence. We have an INTUITIVE know- 
 ledge of our own, DEMONSTRATIVE of God's, SENSITIVE of some 
 jew other things. As to the fourth sort of our knowledge, viz., 
 of the real actual existence of things, we have an intuitivt 
 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. 
 
 9 
 
 CHAPTER W. 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 only building a castle in the air; 
 and be ready to say to me, "To what purpose all this stir? 
 'Knowledge,' say you, 'is onl^the_perception of the agreemem 
 or disagreement of our own ideas;' but who knows what those 
 ideas may be ? Is there any thing so extravagant as the imagi- 
 nations 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 ad- 
 vantage 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 
 
258 LOCKE 
 
 in the perception of the agreeement 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 know- 
 ledge, 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 im- 
 aginations, to a man that inquires after the reality 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 preference to one man's knowledge over another's, 
 that it is of things as they really are, and not of dreams and 
 fancies." 
 
 2. Answer. Not so where ideas agree with things. To which 
 I answer, That if our knowledge of our ide^fcrminate in them, 
 and reach no farther, where there is someth^Barther intended, 
 our most serious thoughts will be of little ^fce 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 be- 
 fore I have done to make it evident timt this way of certainty, 
 by the knowledge of our own ideas, goes a little farther than bare 
 imagination; 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 immediately, but 
 only by the intervention of the ideas it has of them. Our know- 
 ledge therefore is real only so far as there is a conformity be- 
 tween our ideas and the reality of things. But what shall be here 
 the criterion? How shall the mind, when it perceives nothing 
 but its own ideas, know that they agree with things themselves ? 
 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 necessarily be the product of things 
 
ESSAY ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 259 
 
 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 fiction's of ^uFfancies, but the natural and 
 regular productions of things without us really operating upon 
 us; and so carry with them all the conformity which is intended, 
 or which our state requires ; for they represent to us things under 
 those appearances which they are fitted to produce in us, whereby 
 we are enabled to distinguish the sorts of particular substances, 
 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 white-, 
 ness 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, *Vl complex ideas except of substances. Sec- 
 ondly, All ourjBnplex ideas, except those of substances, being 
 archetypes of me 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, cannot 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 representation, 
 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 themselves 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 conformable 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 
 
5o - LOCKE 
 
 but it will be easily granted that the knowledge 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 belong- 
 ing to a circle, or any other mathematical figure, is neverthe- 
 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 arche- 
 types 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 cj^ triangle in his 
 mind, is not at all concerned in that propositi^B And therefore 
 he is certain all his knowledge concerning surh 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 mathematics. For, certainty 
 being but the perception of the agreement or disagreement of 
 our ideas, and demonstration nothing but the perception of such 
 agreement by the intervention of other ideas or mediums, 6ur 
 moral ideas as well as mathematical being archetypes them- 
 selves, 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. 
 
 ii. Ideas of substances have their archetypes without us. 
 Thirdly, There is another sort of complex ideas, which being 
 : ?ferred to archetypes without us may differ from them, a!nd so 
 
ESSAY ON HUMAN, UNDERSTANDING 261 
 
 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 f 
 whence it comes to pass, that they may and often do fail of being/ 
 exactly conformable to things themselves, 
 
 12. So jar as they agree with those, so jar our knowledge con- 
 cerning them is real. I say, then, that to have ideas of sub- 
 stances which, by being conformable 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 existence of any such fact. But- 
 our ideas of substances, being supposed copies, and referred to 
 archetypes without us, must still be taken from something that ; 
 does or has existed; they must not consist of ideas put together 
 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 know- 
 ing not what real constitution it is of substances whereon our 
 simple ideas depend, 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. Herein, therefore, is founded the j 
 reality of our knowledge concerning substances That all our ; 
 complex ideas of them must be such, and such only, as are made i 
 up of such simple ones as have been discovered to co-exist in i 
 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 3 
 real knowledge. Whatever ideas we have, the agreement \\ 
 find they have with others will still be knowledge. If those idee 
 be abstract, it will be general knowledge. But to make it re; 
 concerning substances, the ideas must be taken from the real 
 
262 LOCKE 
 
 existence of things. Whatever 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. 
 
 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. 
 
GEORGE BERKELEY 
 
 (1685-1753) 
 
 A TREATISE CONCERNING THE PRINCIPLES 
 OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE* 
 
 i. IT is evident to any one who takes a survey of the objects oj 
 human knowledge, that they are either ideas ^actually imprinted 
 on the senses; or else such as are perceived by attending to the 
 passions and operations of the mind; or lastly, ideas formed 
 by help of memory and imagination either compounding, 
 dividing, or barely representing those originally perceived in the 
 aforesaid ways. By sight I have the ideas of light and colours, 
 with their several degrees and variations. By touch I perceive 
 hard and soft, heat and cold, motion and resistance, and of all 
 these more and less either as to quantity or degree. Smelling 
 furnishes me with odours; the palate with tastes; and hearing 
 conveys sounds to the mind in all their variety of tone and com- 
 position. And as several of these are observed to accompany 
 each other, they come to be marked by one name, and so to be 
 reputed as one thing. Thus, for^example, a certain colour, taste, 
 smell, figure and consistence having being observed to go together, 
 are accounted one distinct thing, signified by the name apple; 
 other collections of ideas constitute a stone, a tree, a book, 
 and the like sensible things ; which as they are pleasing or dis- 
 agreeable excite the passions of love, hatred, joy, grief, and so 
 forth. 
 
 2. But, besides all that endless variety of ideas or objects 
 of knowledge, there is likewise something which knows or per- 
 ceives them, and exercises divers operations, as willing, imagining, 
 remembering, about them. This perceiving, active being is what 
 I call mind, spirit, soul, or myself. By which words I do not 
 denote any one of my ideas, but a thing entirely distinct from 
 
 * Dublin, 1710 ; 26. ed., London, 1734. Reprinted here from the second edi- 
 tion. 
 
264 BERKELEY 
 
 them, wherein they.^ejdst, or, which is the same thing, whereby 
 icy are perceived for the existence of an idea consists in 
 being perceived. \ 
 
 3. That neither our thoughts, nor passions, nor ideas formed 
 by the imagination, exist without the mind, is what everybody 
 will allow. And to me it is no less evident that the various sensa- 
 tions, or ideas imprinted on the sense, however blended or com- 
 bined together (that is, whatever objects they compose), cannot 
 exist otherwise than in a mind perceiving them. I think an 
 intuitive knowledge may be obtained of this by any one that shall 
 attend to what is meant by the term exist, when applied to 
 sensible things. The table I write on I say exists, that is, I see 
 and feel it ; and if I were out of my study I should say it existed 
 meaning thereby that if I was in my study I might perceive it, 
 or that some other spirit actually does perceive it. There was 
 an odour, that is, it was smelt; there was a sound, that is, it was 
 heard ; a colour or figure, and it was perceived by sight or touch. 
 This is all that I can understand by these and the like expressions. 
 For as to what is said of the absolute existence of unthinking 
 things without any relation to their being perceived, that is to me 
 perfectly unintelligible. Their esse is percipi, nor is it possible 
 they should have any existence out of the minds or thinking 
 things which perceive them. H ^ 
 
 4. It is indeed an opinion strangely prevailing amongst men, 
 that houses, mountains, rivers, and in a word all sensible objects, 
 have an existence, natural or real, distinct from their being per- 
 ceived by the understanding. But, with how great an assurance 
 and acquiescence soever this principle may be entertained in 
 the world, yet whoever shall find in his heart to call it in question 
 may, if I mistake not, perceive it to involve a manifest contra- 
 diction. For, what are the fore-mentioned objects but the things 
 we perceive by sense ? and what do we perceive besides our own 
 ideas or sensations ? and is it not plainly repugnant that any one 
 of these, or any combination of them, should exist unperceived ? 
 
 5. If we thoroughly examine this tenet it will, perhaps, be 
 
PRINCIPLES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 265 
 
 found at bottom to depend on the doctrine of abstract ideas. 
 
 For can there be a nicer strain of abstraction than to distinguish 
 the existence of sensible objects from their being perceived, so 
 as to conceive them existing unperceived? Light and colours, 
 heat and cold, extension and figures in a word the things we 
 see and feel what are they but so many sensations, notions, 
 ideas, or impressions on the sense ? and is it possible to separate, 
 even in thought, any of these from perception ? For my part, I 
 might as easily divide a thing from itself. I may, indeed, divide 
 in my thoughts, or conceive apart from each other, those things 
 which, perhaps, I never perceived by sense so divided. Thus, 
 I imagine the trunk of a human body without the limbs, or con- 
 ceive the smell of a rose without thinking on the rose itself. So 
 far, I will not deny, I can abstract if that may properly be 
 called abstraction which extends only to the conceiving separately 
 such objects as it is possible may really exist or be actually per- 
 ceived asunder. But my conceiving or imagining; power does 
 notj^xtend beyond the possibility of real existence or prception^ 
 Hence, as it is impossible for me to see or feel anything without 
 an actual sensation of that thing, so is it impossible for me to con- 
 ceive in my thoughts any sensible thing or object distinct from 
 the sensation or perception of it. 
 
 6. Some truths there are so near and obvious to the mind that 
 a man need only open his eyes to see them. Such I take this im- 
 portant one to be, viz., that all the choir of heaven and furniture 
 of the earth, in a word all those bodies which compose 
 frame of the world, have not any subsistence without 
 that their being is to be perceived or known; that consequently 
 so long as they are not actually perceived by me, or do not exist 
 in my mind or that of any other created spirit, they must either 
 have no existence at all, or else subsist in the mind of some 
 Eternal Spirit it being perfectly unintelligible, and involving 
 all the absurdity of abstraction, to attribute to any single part 
 of them an existence independent of a spirit. To be convinced 
 of which, the reader need only reflect, and try to separate in his 
 own thoughts the being of a sensible thing from its being per- 
 ceived. 
 
2 66 BERKELEY 
 
 7. From what has been said it is evident there is not any other 
 Substance than Spirit, or that which perceives. But, for the 
 fuller demonstration of this point, let it be considered the sensible 
 qualities are colour, figure, motion, smell, taste, &c., i. e. the 
 ideas perceived by sense. Now, for an idea to exist in an wiper-, 
 ceiving thing is a manifest contradiction, for to have an idea is 
 all one as to perceive; that therefore wherein colour, figure, &c. 
 
 '.exist must perceive them; hence it is clear there can be no 
 unthinking substance or substratum of those ideas. 
 
 8. But, say you, though the ideas themselves do not exist 
 without the mind, yet there may be things like them, whereof 
 they are copies or resemblances, which things exist without the 
 mind in an unthinking substance. I answer, an idea can be like 
 nothing but an idea; a colour or figure can be like nothing but 
 another colour or figure. If we look but never so little into our 
 own thoughts, we shall find it impossible for us to conceive a like- 
 ness except only between our ideas. Again, I ask whether those 
 supposed originals or external things, of which our ideas are the 
 pictures or representations, be themselves perceivable or no ? If 
 they are, then they are ideas and we have gained our point ; but 
 if you say they are not, I appeal to any one whether it be sense to 
 assert a colour is like something which is invisible ; hard or soft, 
 like something which is intangible; and so of the rest. 
 
 9. Some there are who make a distinction betwixt primary 
 and secondary qualities.* By the former they mean extension, 
 figure, motion, rest, solidity or impenetrability, and number; 
 by the latter they denote all other sensible qualities, as colours, 
 sounds, tastes, and so forth. The ideas we have of these they 
 acknowledge not to be the resemblances of anything existing 
 without the mind, or unperceived, but they will have our ideas 
 of the primary qualities to be patterns or images of things which 
 exist without the mind, in an unthinking substance which they 
 call Matter. By Matter, therefore, we are to understand an inert, 
 senseless substance, in which extension, figufe, and motion do 
 
 * See Locke's Essay, bk. ii, ch. viii, supra, pp. 238-239. 
 
PRINCIPLES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 267 
 
 actually subsist. But it is evident, from what we have already 
 shewn, that extension, figure, and motion are only ideas existing 
 in the mind, and that an idea can be like nothing but another 
 idea, and that consequently neither they nor their archetypes 
 can exist in an unperceiving substance. Hence, it is plain that 
 the very notion of what is called Matter or corporeal substance, 
 involves a contradiction in it. 
 
 10. They who assert that figure, nc.otian, and the rest of the 
 primary or original qualities do exist without the mind in un- 
 thinking substances, do at the same time acknowledge that 
 colours, sounds, heat, cold, and such like secondary qualities, 
 do not which they tell us are sensations existing in the mind 
 alone, that depend on and are occasioned by the different size, 
 texture, and motion of the minute particles of matter. This they 
 take for an undoubted truth, which they can demonstrate be- 
 yond all exception. Now, if it be certain that those original quali- 
 ties are inseparably united with the other sensible qualities, 
 and not, even in thought, capable of being abstracted from 
 them, it plainly follows that they exist only in the mind. But I 
 desire any one to reflect and try whether he can, by any abstrac- 
 tion of thought, conceive the extension and motion of a body 
 without all other sensible qualities. For my own part, I see 
 evidently that it is not in my power to frame an idea of a body 
 extended and moving, but I must withal give it some colour or 
 other sensible quality which is acknowledged to exist only in the 
 mind. In short, extension, figure, and motion, abstracted from 
 all other qualities, are inconceivable. Where therefore the other 
 sensible qualities are, there must these be also, to wit, in the 
 mind and nowhere else. 
 
 1 1 . Again, great and small, swift and slow, are allowed to exist 
 nowhere without the mind, being entirely relative, and changing 
 as the frame or position of the organs of sense varies. The ex- 
 tension therefore which exists without the mind is neither great 
 nor small, the motion neither swift nor slow, that is, they are 
 nothing at all. But, say you, they are extension in general, and 
 motion in general : thus we see how much the tenet of extended 
 movable substances existing without the mind depends on the 
 
268 BERKELEY 
 
 strange doctrine of abstract ideas. And here I cannot but re- 
 mark how nearly the vague and indeterminate description of 
 Matter or corporeal substance, which the modern philosophers 
 are run into by their own principles, resembles that antiquated 
 and so much ridiculed notion of materia prima, to be met with 
 in Aristotle and his followers. Without extension solidity cannot 
 be conceived; since therefore it has been shewn that extension 
 exists not in an unthinking substance, the same must also be 
 true of solidity. 
 
 12. That number is entirely the creature of the mind, even 
 though the other qualities be allowed to exist without, will be 
 evident to whoever considers that the same thing bears a different 
 denomination of number as the mind views it with different 
 respects. Thus, the same extension is one, or three, or thirty- 
 six, according as the mind considers it with reference to a yard, 
 a foot, or an inch. Number is so visibly relative, and. dependent 
 on men's understanding, that it is strange to think how any one 
 should give it an absolute existence without the mind. We say 
 one book, one page, one line, &c.; all these are equally units, 
 though some contain several of the others. And in each instance, 
 it is plain, the unit relates to some particular combination of ideas 
 arbitrarily put together by the mind. 
 
 13. Unity I know some will have to be a simple or uncom- 
 pounded idea, accompanying all other ideas into the mind. 
 That I have any such idea answering the word unity I do not 
 find; and if I had, methinks I could not miss finding it: on the 
 contrary, it should be the most familiar to my understanding, 
 since it is said to accompany all other ideas, and to be perceived 
 by all the ways of sensation and reflexion. To say no more,' it is 
 an abstract idea. 
 
 14. I shall farther add, that, after the same manner as modern 
 philosophers prove certain sensible qualities to have no exist- 
 ence in Matter, or without the mind, the same thing may be 
 likewise proved of all other sensible qualities whatsoever. Thus, 
 for instance, it is said that heat and cold are affections only of 
 the mind, and not at all patterns of real beings, existing in the 
 corporeal substances which excite them, for that the same body 
 
PRINCIPLES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 269 
 
 which appears cold to one hand seems warm to another. Now, 
 why may we not as well argue that figure and extension are not 
 patterns or resemblances of qualities existing in Matter, because 
 to the same eye at different stations, or eyes of a different texture 
 at the same station, they appear various, and cannot therefore 
 be the images of anything settled and determinate without the 
 mind? Again, it is proved that sweetness is not really in the 
 sapid thing, because the thing remaining unaltered the sweet- 
 ness is changed into bitter, as in case of a fever or otherwise 
 vitiated palate. Is it not as reasonable to say that motion is not 
 without the mind, since if the succession of ideas in the mind 
 become swifter, the motion, it is acknowledged, shall appear 
 slower without any alteration in any external object ? 
 
 15. In short, let any one consider those arguments which are 
 thought manifestly to prove that colours and taste exist only in 
 the mind, and he shall find they may with equal force be brought 
 to prove the same thing of extension, figure, and motion. Though 
 it must be confessed this method of arguing does not so much 
 prove that there is no extension or colour in an outward object, 
 as that we do not know by sense which is the true extension or 
 colour of the object. But the arguments foregoing plainly shew 
 it to be impossible that any colour or extension at all, or other 
 sensible quality whatsoever, should exist in an unthinking sub- 
 ject without the mind, or in truth, that there should be any such 
 thing as an outward object. 
 
 16. But let us examine a little the received opinion. It is 
 said extension is a mode or accident of Matter, and that Matter 
 is the substratum that supports it. Now I desire that you would 
 explain to me what is meant by Matter's supporting extension. 
 Say you, I have no idea of Matter and therefore cannot explain 
 it. I answer, though you have no positive, yet, if you have any 
 meaning at all, you must at least have a relative idea of Matter; 
 though you know not what it is, yet you must be supposed to 
 know what relation it bears to accidents, and what is meant by 
 its supporting them. It is evident support cannot here be taken 
 in its usual or literal sense as when we say that pillars support 
 a building; in what sense therefore must it be taken? 
 
BERKELEY 
 
 17. If we inquire into what the most accurate philosophers 
 declare themselves to mean by material substance, we shall find 
 them acknowledge they have no other meaning annexed to those 
 sounds but the idea of Being in general, together with the relative 
 notion of its supporting accidents. The general idea of Being 
 appeareth to me the most abstract and incomprehensible of all 
 other; and as for its supporting accidents, this, as we have just 
 now observed, cannot be understood in the common sense of 
 those words; it must therefore be taken in some other sense, but 
 what that is they do not explain. So that when I consider the 
 two parts or branches which make the signification of the words 
 material substance, I am- convinced there is no distinct mean- 
 ing annexed to them. But why should we trouble ourselves any 
 farther, in discussing this material substratum or support of fig- 
 ure and motion, and other sensible qualities ? Does it not sup- 
 pose they have an existence without the mind ? And is not this 
 a direct repugnancy, and altogether inconceivable ? 
 
 1 8. But, though it were possible that solid, figured, movable 
 substances may exist without the mind, corresponding to the 
 ideas we have of bodies, yet how is it possible for us to know 
 this ? Either we must know it by sense or by reason. As for our 
 senses, by them we have the knowledge only of our sensations, 
 ideas, or those things that are immediately perceived by sense, 
 call them what you will: but they do not inform us that things 
 exist without the mind, or unperceived, like to those which are 
 perceived. This the materialists themselves acknowledge. It 
 remains therefore that if we have any knowledge at all of external 
 things, it must be by reason, inferring their existence from what 
 is immediately perceived by sense. But what reason can induce 
 us to believe the existence of bodies without the mind, from what 
 we perceive, since the very patrons of Matter themselves do not 
 pretend there is any necessary connexion betwixt them and our 
 ideas ? I say it is granted on all hands and what happens in 
 dreams, frenzies, and the like, puts it beyond dispute that it is 
 possible we might be affected with all the ideas we have now, 
 though there were no bodies existing without resembling them. 
 Hence, it is evident the supposition of external bodies is not neces- 
 
PRINCIPLES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 271 
 
 sary for the producing our ideas; since it is granted they are pro- 
 duced sometimes, and might possibly be produced always in the 
 same order, we see them in at present, without their concurrence. 
 * 19. But, though we might possibly have all our sensations 
 without them, yet perhaps it may be thought easier to conceive 
 and explain the manner of their production, by supposing ex- 
 ternal bodies in their likeness rather than otherwise; and so it 
 might be at least probable that there are such things as bodies 
 that excite their ideas in our minds. But neither can this be said ; 
 for, though we give the materialists their external bodies, they 
 by their own confession are never the nearer knowing how our 
 ideas are produced; since they own themselves unable to com- 
 prehend in what manner body can act upon spirit, or how it is 
 possible it should imprint any idea in the mind. Hence it is 
 evident k the production of ideas ofr-sessatiens in our minds can 
 be no reason why we should suppose Matter, or corporeal sub- 
 stances, since that is acknowledged to remain equally inexplica- 
 ble with or without this supposition. If therefore it were possible 
 for bodies to exist without the mind, yet to hold they do so must 
 needs be a very precarious opinion; since it is to suppose, with- 
 out any reason at all, that God has created innumerable beings 
 that are entirely useless, and serve to no manner of purpose. 
 
 20. In short, if there were external bodies, it is impossible we 
 should ever come to know it; and if there were not, we might 
 have the very same reasons to think there were that we have now. 
 Suppose what no one can deny possible an intelligence 
 without the help of external bodies, to be affected with the same 
 train of sensations or ideas that you are, imprinted in the same 
 order and with like vividness in his mind. I ask whether that 
 intelligence hath not all the reason to believe the existence of 
 corporeal substances, represented by his ideas, and exciting 
 them in his mind, that you can possibly have for believing the 
 same thing ? Of this there can be no question which one 
 consideration were enough to make any reasonable person sus- 
 pect the strength of whatever arguments he may think himself 
 to have, for the existence of bodies without the mind. 
 
 21. Were it necessary to add any farther proof against the 
 
272 BERKELEY 
 
 existence of Matter after what has been said, I could instance 
 several of those errors and difficulties (not to mention impieties) 
 which have sprung from that tenet. It has occasioned number- 
 less controversies and disputes in philosophy, and not a few of 
 far greater moment in religion. But I shall not enter into the 
 detail of them in this place, as well because I think arguments 
 a posteriori are unnecessary for confirming what has been, if 
 I mistake not, sufficiently demonstrated a priori, as because I 
 shall hereafter find occasion to speak somewhat of them. 
 
 22. I am afraid I have given cause to think I am needlessly 
 prolix in handling this subject. For, to what purpose is it to dilate 
 on that which may be demonstrated with the utmost evidence 
 in a line or two, to any one that is capable of the least reflexion ? 
 It is but looking into your own thoughts, and so trying whether 
 you can conceive it possible for a sound, or figure, or motion, 
 or colour to exist without the mind or unperceived. This easy 
 trial may perhaps make you see that what you contend for is a 
 downright contradiction. Insomuch that I am content to put 
 the whole upon this issue : If you can but conceive it possible 
 for one extended movable substance, or, in general, for any one 
 idea, or anything like an idea, to exist otherwise than in a mind 
 perceiving it, I shall readily give up the cause. And, as for all 
 that compages of external bodies you contend for, I shall grant 
 you its existence, though you cannot either give me any reason 
 why you believe it exists, or assign any use to it when it is sup- 
 posed to exist. I say, the bare possibility of your opinions being 
 true shall pass for an argument that it is so. 
 
 23. But, say you, surely there is nothing easier than for me 
 to imagine trees, for instance, in a park, or books existing in a 
 closet, and nobody by to perceive them. I answer, you may so, 
 there is no difficulty in it; but what is all this, I beseech you, 
 more than framing in your mind certain ideas which you call 
 books and trees, and at the same time omitting to frame the idea 
 of any one that may perceive them? But do not you yourself 
 perceive or think of them all the while ? This therefore is nothing 
 to the purpose: it only shews you have the power of imagining 
 
PRINCIPLES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 273 
 
 or forming ideas in your mind: but it does not shew that you 
 can conceive it possible the objects of your thought may exist 
 without the mind. To make out this, it is necessary that you 
 conceive them existing unconceived or unthought of, which is a 
 manifest repugnancy. When we do our utmost to conceive the 
 existence of external bodies, we are all the while only contem- 
 plating our own ideas. But the mind, taking no notice of itself, 
 is deluded to think it can and does conceive bodies existing un- 
 thought of or without the mind, though at the same time they are 
 apprehended by or exist in itself. A little attention will discover 
 to any one the truth and evidence of what is here said, and make 
 it unnecessary to insist on any other proofs against the existence 
 of material substance. 
 
 24. It is very obvious, upon the least inquiry into our own 
 thoughts, to know whether it be possible for us to understand what 
 is meant by the absolute existence of sensible objects in them- 
 selves, or without the mind. To me it is evident those words 
 mark out either a direct contradiction, or else nothing at all. 
 And to convince others of this, I know no readier or fairer way 
 than to entreat they would calmly attend to their own thoughts ; 
 and if by this attention the emptiness or repugnancy of those ex- 
 pressions does appear, surely nothing more is requisite for their 
 conviction. It is on this therefore that I insist, to wit, that the ab- 
 solute existence of unthinking things are words without a mean- 
 ing, or which include a contradiction. This is what I repeat and 
 inculcate, and earnestly recommend to the attentive thoughts of 
 the reader. 
 
 25. All our ideas, sensations, notions, or the things which 
 we perceive, by whatsoever names they may be distinguished, 
 are visibly inactive there is nothing of power or agency in- 
 cluded in them. So that one idea or object of thought cannot 
 produce or make any alteration in another. To be satisfied of 
 the truth of this, there is nothing else requisite but a bare obser- 
 vation of our ideas. For, since they and every part of them exist 
 only in the mind, it follows that there is nothing in them but what 
 is perceived : but who ever shall attend to his ideas, whether of 
 
274 BERKELEY 
 
 sense or reflexion, will not perceive in them any power or activity; 
 there is, therefore, no such thing contained in them. A little 
 attention will discover to us that the very being of an idea implies 
 passiveness and inertness in it, insomuch that it is impossible 
 for an idea to do anything, or, strictly speaking, to be the cause 
 of anything: neither can it be the resemblance or pattern of any 
 active being, as is evident from sect. 8. Whence it plainly fol- 
 lows that extension, figure, and motion cannot be the cause of our 
 sensations. To say, therefore, that these are the effects of powers 
 resulting from the configuration, number, motion, and size of 
 corpuscles, must certainly be false. 
 
 26. We perceive a continual succession of ideas; some are ' 
 anew excited, others are changed or totally disappear. There is 
 therefore some cause of these ideas, whereon they depend, and 
 which produces and changes them. That this cause cannot be 
 any quality, or idea, or combination of ideas, is clear from the 
 preceding section. It must therefore be a substance ; but it has 
 been shewn that there is no corporeal or material substance : it re- 
 mains therefore that the cause of ideas is an incorporeal active 
 substance or Spirit. 
 
 27. A Spirit is one simple, undivided, active being as it 
 perceives ideas it is called the understanding, and as it produces 
 or otherwise operates about them it is called the will. Hence 
 there can be no idea formed of a soul or spirit; for, all ideas 
 whatever, being passive and inert (vid. sect. 25), cannot repre- 
 sent unto us, by way of image or likeness, that which acts. A 
 little attention will make it plain to any one that to have an idea 
 which shall be like that active principle of motion and change 
 of ideas is absolutely impossible. Such is the nature of Spirit, 
 or that which acts, that it cannot be of itself perceived, but only 
 by the effects which it produceth. If any man shall doubt of the 
 truth of what is here delivered, let him but reflect and try if he 
 can frame the idea of any power or active being; and whether he 
 has ideas of two principal powers, marked by the names will 
 and understanding, distinct from each other, as well as from a 
 third idea of Substance or Being in general, with a relative notion 
 of its supporting or being the subject of the aforesaid powers 
 
PRINCIPLES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 275 
 
 which is signified by the name soul or spirit. This is what some 
 hold ; but, so far as I can see, the words will, soul, spirit, do not 
 stand for different ideas, or, in truth, for any idea at all, but for 
 something which is very different from ideas, and which, being 
 an agent, cannot be like unto, or represented by, any idea what- 
 soever. Though it must be owned at the same time that we have 
 some notion of soul, spirit, and the operations of the mind; 
 such as willing, loving, hating inasmuch as we know or under- 
 stand the meaning of these words. 
 
 28. I find I can excite ideas in my mind at pleasure, and vary 
 and shift the scene as oft as I think fit. It is no more than willing, 
 and straightway this or that idea arises in my fancy; and by the 
 same power it is obliterated and makes way for another. This 
 making and unmaking of ideas doth very properly denominate 
 the mind active. Thus much is certain and grounded on ex- 
 perience: but when we talk of unthinking agents or of exciting 
 ideas exclusive of volition, we only amuse ourselves with words. 
 
 29. But, whatever power I may have over my own thoughts, 
 I find the ideas actually perceived by Sense have not a like 
 dependence on my will. When in broad daylight I open my eyes, 
 it is not in my power to choose whether I shall see or no, or to 
 determine what particular objects shall present themselves to my 
 view; and so likewise as to the hearing and other senses; the 
 ideas imprinted on them are not creatures of my will. There is 
 therefore some other Will or Spirit that produces them. 
 
 30. The ideas of Sense are more strong, lively, and distinct 
 than those of the imagination; they have likewise a steadiness, 
 order, and coherence, and are not excited at random, as those 
 which are the effects of human wills often are, but in a regular 
 train or series the admirable connexion whereof sufficiently 
 testifies the wisdom and benevolence of its Author. Now the set 
 rules or established methods wherein the Mind we depend on 
 excites in us the ideas of sense, are called the laws of nature; 
 and these we learn by experience, which teaches us that such and 
 such ideas are attended with such and such other ideas, in the 
 ordinary course of things. 
 
 31. This gives us a sort of foresight which enables us to regu- 
 
276 BERKELEY 
 
 late our actions for the benefit of life. And without this we should 
 be eternally at a loss; we could not know how to act anything that 
 might procure us the least pleasure, or remove the least pain of 
 sense. That food nourishes, sleep refreshes, and fire warms us; 
 that to sow in the seed-time is the way to reap in the harvest ; 
 and in general that to obtain such or such ends, such or such* 
 means are conducive all this we know, not by discovering 
 any necessary connexion between our ideas, but only by the 
 observation of the settled laws of nature, without which we 
 should be all in uncertainty and confusion, and a grown man no 
 more know how to manage himself in the affairs of life than an 
 infant just born. 
 
 32. And yet this consistent uniform working, which so evi- 
 dently displays the goodness and wisdom of that Governing 
 Spirit whose Will constitutes the laws of nature, is so far from 
 leading our thoughts to Him, that it rather sends them wander- 
 ing after second causes. For, when we perceive certain ideas of 
 Sense constantly followed by other ideas, and we know this is 
 not of our own doing, we forthwith attribute power and agency 
 to the ideas themselves, and make one the cause of another, than 
 which nothing can be more absurd and unintelligible. Thus, for 
 example, having observed that when we perceive by sight a 
 certain round luminous figure we at the same time perceive by 
 touch the idea or sensation called heat, we do from thence con- 
 clude the sun to be the cause of heat. And in like manner per- 
 ceiving the motion and collision of bodies to be attended with 
 sound, we are inclined to think the latter the effect of the former. 
 
 33. The ideas imprinted on the Senses by the Author of nature 
 are called real things : and those excited in the Imagination being 
 less regular, vivid, and constant, are more properly termed ideas, 
 or images of things, which they copy and represent. But then our 
 sensations, be they never so vivid and distinct, are nevertheless 
 ideas, that is, they exist in the Blind, or are perceived by it, as 
 truly as the ideas of its own framing. The ideas of Sense are 
 allowed to have more reality in them, that is, to be more strong, 
 orderly, and coherent than the creatures of the mind; but this 
 is no. argument that they exist without the mind. They are also 
 
PRINCIPLES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 277 
 
 less dependent on the spirit, or thinking substance which per- 
 ceives them, in that they are excited by the will of another and 
 more powerful Spirit ; yet still they are ideas, and certainly no 
 idea, whether faint or strong, can exist otherwise than in a mind 
 perceiving it. 
 
 34. Before we proceed any farther it is necessary we spend 
 some time in answering Objections which may probably be 
 made against the principles we have hitherto laid down. In 
 doing of which, if I seem too prolix to those of quick apprehen- 
 sions, I desire I may be excused, since all men do not equally 
 apprehend things of this nature, and I am willing to be under- 
 stood by every one. 
 
 First, then, it will be objected that by the foregoing principles 
 all that is real and substantial in nature is banished out of the 
 world, and instead thereof a chimerical scheme of ideas takes 
 place. All things that exist exist only in the mind, that is, they 
 are purely notional. What therefore becomes of the sun, moon, 
 and stars? What must we think of houses, rivers, mountains, 
 trees, stones; nay, even of our own bodies? Are all these but so 
 many chimeras and illusions of the fancy ? To all of which, and 
 whatever else of the same sort may be objected, I answer, that 
 by the Principles premised we are not deprived of any one thing 
 in nature. Whatever we see, feel, hear, or anywise conceive or 
 understand, remains as secure as ever, and is as real as ever. 
 There is a rerum natura, and the distinction between realities 
 and chimeras retains its full force. This is evident from sect. 29, 
 30, and 33, where we have shewn what is meant by real things, in 
 opposition to chimeras or ideas of our own framing; but then 
 they both equally exist in the mind, and in that sense they are 
 alike ideas. 
 
 35. I do not argue against the existence of any one thing that 
 we can apprehend either by sense or reflexion. That the things 
 I see with my eyes and touch with my hands do exist, really 
 exist, I make not the least question. The only thing whose 
 existence we deny is that which philosophers call Matter or 
 corporeal substance. And in doing of this there is no damage 
 
278 BERKELEY 
 
 done to the rest of mankind, who, I dare say, will never miss it. 
 The Atheist indeed will want the colour of an empty name to 
 support his impiety; and the Philosophers may possibly find 
 they have lost a great handle for trifling and disputation. 
 
 37. It will be urged that thus much at least is true, to wit, 
 that we take away all corporeal substances. To this my answer 
 is, that if the word substance be taken in the vulgar sense, for 
 a combination of sensible qualities, such as extension, solidity, 
 weight, and the like this we cannot be accused of taking 
 away; but if it be taken in a philosophic sense, for the support 
 of accidents or qualities without the mind then indeed I 
 acknowledge that we take it away, if one may be said to take 
 away that which never had any existence, not even in the imagi- 
 nation. 
 
 38. But after all, say you, it sounds very harsh to say we eat 
 and drink ideas, and are clothed with ideas. I acknowledge it 
 does so the word idea not being used in common discourse 
 to signify the several combinations of sensible qualities which 
 are called things; and it is certain that any expression which 
 varies from the familiar use of language will seem harsh and 
 ridiculous. But this doth not concern the truth of the proposi- 
 tion, which in other words is no more than to say, we are fed 
 and clothed with those things which we perceive immediately 
 by our senses. The hardness or softness, the colour, taste, 
 warmth, figure, or suchlike qualities, which, combined together, 
 constitute the several sorts of victuals and apparel, have been 
 shewn to exist only in the mind that perceives them; and this is 
 all that is meant by calling them ideas; which word if it was 
 as ordinarily used as thing, would sound no harsher nor more 
 ridiculous than it. I am not for disputing about the propriety, 
 but the truth of the expression. If therefore you agree with me 
 that we eat and drink and are clad with the immediate objects 
 of sense, which cannot exist unperceived or without the mind, I 
 shall readily grant it is more proper or conformable to custom 
 that they should be called things rather than ideas. 
 
 39. If it be demanded why I make use of the word idea, and 
 do not rather in compliance with custom call them things; I 
 
PRINCIPLES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 279 
 
 answer, I do it for two reasons : first, because the term thing, 
 in contradistinction to idea, is generally supposed to denote 
 somewhat existing without the mind; secondly, because thing 
 hath a more comprehensive signification than idea, including 
 spirit or thinking things as well as ideas. Since therefore the 
 objects of sense exist only in the mind, and are withal thoughtless 
 and inactive, I chose to mark them by the word idea, which 
 implies those properties. 
 
 41 . Secondly, it will be objected that there is a great difference 
 betwixt real fire for instance, and the idea of fire, betwixt dream- 
 ing or imagining oneself burnt, and actually being so. This 
 and the like may be urged in opposition to our tenets. To all 
 which the answer is evident from what hath been already said; 
 and I shall only add in this place, that if real fire be very different 
 from the idea of fire, so also is the real pain that it occasions very 
 different from the idea of the same pain, and yet nobody will 
 pretend that real pain either is, or can possibly be, in an unper- 
 ceiving thing, or without the mind, any more than its idea. 
 
 42. Thirdly, it will be objected that we see things actually 
 without or at a distance from us, and which consequently do not 
 exist in the mind; it being absurd that those things which are 
 seen at the distance of several miles should be as near to us as 
 our own thoughts. In answer to this, I desire it may be considered 
 that in a dream we do oft perceive things as existing at a great 
 distance off, and yet for all that, those things are acknowledged 
 to have their existence only in the mind. 
 
 43. But, for the fuller clearing of this point, it may be worth 
 while to consider how it is that we perceive distance and things 
 placed at a distance by sight. For, that we should in truth see 
 external space, and bodies actually existing in it some nearer, 
 others farther off, seems to carry with it some opposition to 
 what hath been said of their existing nowhere without the mind. 
 The consideration of this difficulty it was that gave birth to 
 my Essay towards a New Theory 0} Vision, which was pub- 
 lished not long since, wherein it is shewn that distance or out- 
 
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 ness is neither immediately of itself perceived by sight, nor yet 
 apprehended or judged of by lines and angles, or anything that 
 hath a necessary connexion with it; but that it is only suggested 
 to our thoughts by certain visible ideas and sensations attending 
 vision, which in their own nature have no manner of similitude 
 or relation either with distance or things placed at a distance; but 
 by a connexion taught us by experience, they come to signify 
 and suggest them to us, after the same manner" that words of any 
 language suggest the ideas they are made to stand for; insomuch 
 that a man born blind and afterwards made to see, would not, 
 at first sight, think the things he saw to be without his mind, or 
 at any distance from him. See sect. 41 of the forementioned 
 treatise. 
 
 45. Fourthly, it will be objected that from the foregoing prin- 
 ciples it follows things are every moment annihilated and created 
 anew. The objects of sense exist only when they are perceived; 
 the trees therefore are in the garden, or the chairs in the parlour, 
 no longer than while there is somebody by to perceive them. 
 Upon shutting my eyes all the furniture in the room is reduced 
 to nothing, and barely upon opening them it is again created. 
 In answer to all which, I refer the reader to what has been said 
 in sect. 3, 4, &c., and desire he will consider whether he means 
 anything by the actual existence of an idea distinct from its 
 being perceived. For my part, after the nicest inquiry I could 
 make, I am not able to discover that anything else is meant by 
 those words; and I once more entreat the reader to sound his 
 own thoughts, and not suffer himself to be imposed on by words. 
 If he can conceive it possible either for his ideas or their arche- 
 types to exist without being perceived, then I give up the cause ; 
 but if he cannot, he will acknowledge it is unreasonable for him 
 to stand up in defence of he knows not what, and pretend to 
 charge on me as an absurdity the not assenting to those propo- 
 sitions which at bottom have no meaning in them. 
 
 48. But, after all, if we consider it, the objection proposed in 
 sect. 45 will not be found reasonably charged on the principles 
 we have premised, so as in truth to make any objection at all 
 
PRINCIPLES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 281 
 
 against our notions. For, though we hold indeed the objects 
 of sense to be nothing else but ideas which cannot exist unper- 
 ceived ; yet we may not hence conclude they have no existence 
 except only while they are perceived by us, since there may be 
 some other spirit that perceives them though we do not. Wher- 
 ever bodies are said to have no existence without the mind, I 
 would not be understood to mean this or that particular mind, 
 but all minds whatsoever. It does not therefore follow from 
 the foregoing Principles that bodies are annihilated and created 
 every moment, or exist not at all during the intervals between our 
 perception of them. 
 
 49. Fifthly, it may perhaps be objected that if extension and 
 figure exist only in the mind, it follows that the mind is extended 
 and figured; since extension is a mode or attribute which (to 
 speak with the schools) is predicated of the subject in which it 
 exists. I answer, those qualities are in the mind only as they are 
 perceived by it that is, not by way of mode or attribute, but 
 only by way of idea; and it no more follows the soul or mind is 
 extended, because extension exists in it alone, than it does that 
 it is red or blue, because those colours are on all hands acknow- 
 ledged to exist in it, and nowhere else. . . . 
 
 50. Sixthly, you will say there have been a great many things 
 explained by matter and motion ; take away these and you destroy 
 the whole corpuscular philosophy, and undermine those mechani- 
 cal principles which have been applied with so much success to 
 account for the phenomena. In short, whatever advances have 
 been made, either by ancient or modern philosophers, in the 
 study of nature do all proceed on the supposition that corporeal 
 substance or Matter doth really exist. To this I answer that 
 there is not any one phenomenon explained on that supposition 
 which may not as well be explained without it, as might easily be 
 made appear by an induction of particulars. To explain the 
 phenomena, is all one > as to shew why, upon such and such 
 occasions, we are affected with such and such ideas. But how 
 Matter should operate on a Spirit, or produce any idea in it, is 
 
2 8z BERKELEY 
 
 i 
 
 what no philosopher will pretend to explain; it is therefore 
 evident there can be no use of Matter in natural philosophy. 
 Besides, they who attempt to account for things do it not by 
 corporeal substance, but by figure, motion, and other qualities, 
 which are in truth no more than mere ideas, and therefore 
 cannot be the cause of anything, as hath been already shewn. See 
 sect. 25. 
 
 51. Seventhly, it will upon this be demanded whether it does 
 not seem absurd to take away natural causes, and ascribe 
 everything to the immediate operation of Spirits ? We must no 
 longer say upon these principles that fire heats, or water cools, 
 but that a Spirit heats, and so forth. Would not a man be deserv- 
 edly laughed at, who should talk after this manner ? I answer, he 
 would so;in such things we ought to "think with the learned, and 
 speak with the vulgar." They who to demonstration are con- 
 vinced of the truth of the Copernican system do nevertheless 
 say "the sun rises," "the sun sets," or "comes to the meridian;" 
 and if they affected a contrary style in common talk it would 
 without doubt appear very ridiculous. A little reflexion on what 
 is here said will make it manifest that the common use of lan- 
 guage would receive no manner of alteration or disturbance from 
 the admission of our tenets. 
 
 54. In the eighth place, the universal concurrent assent of 
 mankind may be thought by some an invincible argument in 
 behalf of Matter, or the existence of external things. Must we 
 suppose the whole world to be mistaken ? And if so, what cause 
 can be assigned of so widespread and predominant an error ? I 
 answer, first, that, upon a narrow inquiry, it will not perhaps be 
 found so many as is imagined do really believe the existence of 
 Matter or things without the mind. Strictly speaking, to believe 
 that which involves a contradiction, or has no meaning in it, is 
 impossible; and whether the foregoing expressions are not of 
 that sort, I refer it to the impartial examination of the reader. 
 In one sense, indeed, men may be said to believe that Matter 
 exists; that is, they act as if the immediate cause of their sensa- 
 
PRINCIPLES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 283 
 
 tions, which affects them every moment, and is so nearly present 
 to them, were some senseless unthinking being. But, that they 
 should clearly apprehend any meaning marked by those words, 
 and form thereof a settled speculative opinion, is what I am not 
 able to conceive. 
 
 55. But secondly, though we should grant a notion to be 
 never so universally and steadfastly adhered to, yet this is weak 
 argument of its truth to whoever considers what a vast number 
 of prejudices and false opinions are everywhere embraced with 
 the utmost tenaciousness, by the unreflecting (which are the far 
 greater) part of mankind. There was a time when the antipodes 
 and motion of the earth were looked upon as monstrous absur- 
 dities even by men of learning : and if it be considered what a 
 small proportion they bear to the rest of mankind, we shall find 
 that at this day those notions have gained but a very inconsider- 
 able footing in the world. 
 
 56. But it is demanded that we assign a cause of this preju- 
 dice, and account for its obtaining in the world. To this I an- 
 swer, that men knowing they perceived several ideas, whereof 
 they themselves were not the authors as not being excited 
 from within nor depending on the operation of their wills 
 this made them maintain those ideas, or objects of perception 
 had an existence independent of and without the mind, without 
 ever dreaming that a contradiction was involved in those words. 
 But, philosophers having plainly seen that the immediate objects 
 of perception do not exist without the mind, they in some degree 
 corrected the mistake of the vulgar; but at the same time ran 
 into another which seems no less absurd, to wit, that there are 
 certain objects really existing without the mind, or having a 
 subsistence distinct from being perceived, of which our ideas 
 are only images or resemblances, imprinted by those objects 
 on the mind. And this notion of the philosophers owes its origin 
 to the same cause with the former, namely, their being conscious 
 that they were not the authors of their own sensations, which 
 they evidently knew were imprinted from without, and which 
 
284 BERKELEY 
 
 therefore must have some cause distinct from the minds on 
 which they are imprinted. 
 
 58. Tenthly, it will be objected that the notions we advance 
 are inconsistent with several sound truths in philosophy and 
 mathematics. For example, the motion of the earth is now uni- 
 versally admitted by astronomers as a truth grounded on the 
 clearest and most convincing reasons. But, on the foregoing 
 principles, there can be no such thing. For motion being only 
 an idea, it follows that if it be not perceived it exists not; but 
 the motion of the earth is not perceived by senses I answer, 
 that tenet, if rightly understood, will be found to agree with the 
 principles we have premised ; for, the question whether the earth 
 moves or no amounts in reality to no more than this, to wit, 
 whether we have reason to conclude, from what has been ob- 
 served by astronomers, that if we were placed in such and such 
 circumstances, and such or such a position and distance both 
 from the earth and sun, we should perceive the former to move 
 among the choir of the planets, and appearing in all respects 
 like one of them; and this, by the established rules of nature 
 which we have no reason to mistrust, is reasonably collected from 
 the phenomena. 
 
 60. In the eleventh place, it will be demanded to what pur- 
 pose serves that curious organization of plants, and the animal 
 mechanism in the parts of animals. Might not vegetables grow, 
 and shoot forth leaves and blossoms, and animals perform all their 
 motions as well without as with all that variety of internal parts 
 so elegantly contrived and put together; which, being ideas, have 
 nothing powerful or operative in them, nor have any necessary 
 connexion with the effects ascribed to them ? If it be a Spirit that 
 immediately produces every effect by a fiat or act of his will, we 
 must think all that is fine and artificial in the works, whether 5 , 
 of man or nature, to be made in vain. By this doctrine, though 
 an artist has made the spring and wheels, and every movement 
 of a watch, and adjusted them in such a manner as he knew 
 would produce the motions he designed, yet he must think all 
 
PRINCIPLES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 285 
 
 this done to no purpose, and that it is an Intelligence which 
 directs the index, and points to the hour of the day. If so, why 
 may not the Intelligence do it, without his being at the pains of 
 making the movements and putting them together? Why does 
 not an empty case serve as well as another ? And how comes it 
 to pass that whenever there is any fault in the going of a watch, 
 there is some corresponding disorder to be found in the move- 
 ments, which being mended by a skilful hand all is right again ? 
 The like may be said of all the clockwork of nature, great part 
 whereof is so wonderfully fine and subtle as scarce to be discerned 
 by the best microscope. In short, it will be asked, how, upon our 
 Principles, any tolerable account can be given, or any final cause 
 assigned of an innumerable multitude of bodies and machines, 
 framed with the most exquisite art, which in the common philoso- 
 phy have very apposite uses assigned them, and serve to explain 
 abundance of phenomena ? 
 
 61. To all which I answer, first, that though there were some 
 difficulties relating to the administration of Providence, and the 
 uses by it assigned to the several parts of nature, which I could 
 not solve by the foregoing principles, yet this objection could be 
 of small weight against the truth and certainty of those things 
 which may be proved a priori, with the utmost evidence and rigor 
 of demonstration. Secondly, but neither are the received prin- 
 ciples free from the like difficulties; for, it may still be demanded 
 to what end God should take those roundabout methods of ef- 
 fecting things by instruments and machines, which no one can 
 deny might have been effected by the mere command of His 
 will without all that apparatus. Nay, if we narrowly consider 
 it, we shall find the objection may be retorted with greater force 
 on those who hold the existence of those machines without the 
 mind; for it has been made evident that solidity, bulk, figure, 
 motion, and the like have no activity or efficacy in them, so as 
 to be capable of producing any one effect in nature. See sect. 
 25. Whoever therefore supposes them to exist (allowing the 
 supposition possible) when they are not perceived does it man- 
 ifestly to no purpose; since the only use that is assigned to 
 them, as they exist unperceived, is that they produce those per- 
 
286 BERKELEY 
 
 ceivable effects which in truth cannot be ascribed to anything but 
 Spirit. 
 
 62. But, to come nigher the difficulty, it must be observed 
 that though the fabrication of all those parts and organs be not 
 absolutely necessary to the producing any effect, yet it is neces- 
 sary to the producing of things in a constant regular way accord- 
 ing to the laws of nature. There are certain general laws that run 
 through the whole chain of natural effects: these are learned 
 by the observation and study of nature, and are by men applied 
 as well to the framing artificial things for the use and ornament 
 of life as to the explaining various phenomena which expli- 
 cation consists only in shewing the conformity any particular 
 phenomenon hath to the general laws of nature, or, which is the 
 same thing, in discovering the uniformity there is in the produc- 
 tion of natural effects ; as will be evident to whoever shall attend 
 to the several instances wherein philosophers pretend to account 
 for appearances. That there is a great and conspicuous use 
 in these regular constant methods of working observed by the 
 Supreme Agent hath been shewn in sect. 31. And it is no less 
 visible that a particular size, figure, motion, and disposition of 
 parts are necessary, though not absolutely to the producing any 
 effect, yet to the producing it according to the standing mechani- 
 cal laws of nature. Thus, for instance, it cannot be denied that 
 God, or the Intelligence that sustains and rules the ordinary 
 course of things, might, if He were minded to produce a miracle, 
 cause all the motions on the dial-plate of a watch, though nobody 
 had ever made the movements and put them in it. But yet, if 
 He will act agreeably to the rules of mechanism, by Him for wise 
 ends established and maintained in the creation, it is necessary 
 that those actions of the watchmaker, whereby he makes the 
 movements and rightly adjusts them, precede the production of 
 the aforesaid motions; as also that any disorder in them be 
 attended with the perception of some corresponding disorder in 
 the movements, which being once corrected all is right again. . . . 
 
 67. In the twelfth place, it may perhaps be objected that 
 though it be clear from what has been said that there can be 
 
PRINCIPLES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 287 
 
 no such thing as an inert, senseless, extended, solid, figured, 
 movable substance existing without the mind, such as philoso- 
 phers describe Matter; yet, if any man shall leave out of his 
 idea of Matter the positive ideas of extension, figure, solidity, 
 and motion, and say that he means only by that word an inert, 
 senseless substance, that exists without the mind or unperceived, 
 which is the occasion of our ideas, or at the presence whereof 
 God is pleased to excite ideas in us it doth not appear but 
 that Matter taken in this sense may possibly exist. In answer to 
 which I say, first, that it seems no less absurd to suppose a sub- 
 stance without accidents, than it is to suppose accidents without 
 a substance. But secondly, though we should grant this unknown 
 substance may possibly exist, yet where can it be supposed to be ? 
 That it exists not in the mind is agreed; and that it exists not in 
 place is no less certain since all place or extension exists only 
 in the mind, as hath been already proved. It remains therefore 
 that it exists nowhere at all. 
 
 70. You will perhaps say that Matter, though it be not per- 
 ceived by us, is nevertheless perceived by God, to whom it is 
 the occasion of exciting ideas in our minds. For, say you, since 
 we observe our sensations to be imprinted in an orderly and con- 
 stant manner, it is but reasonable to suppose that there are cer- 
 tain constant and regular occasions of their being produced. That 
 is to say, that there are certain permanent and distinct parcels 
 of Matter, corresponding to our ideas, which, though they do not 
 excite them in our minds, or anywise immediately affect us, as 
 being altogether passive and unperceivable to us, they are never- 
 theless to God, by whom they are perceived, as it were so many 
 occasions to remind Him when and what ideas to imprint on our 
 minds that so things may go on in a constant uniform manner. 
 
 71. In answer to this, I observe that, as the notion of Matter 
 is here stated, the question is no longer concerning the existence 
 of a thing distinct from Spirit and idea, from perceiving and being 
 perceived ; but whether there are not certain ideas of I know not 
 what sort, in the mind of God, which are so many marks or notes 
 that direct Him how to produce sensations in our minds in a 
 constant and regular method much after the same manner 
 
288 BERKELEY 
 
 as a musician is directed by the notes of music to produce that 
 harmonious strain and composition of sound which is called a 
 tune, though they who hear the music do not perceive the notes, 
 and may be entirely ignorant of them. But, this notion of Matter 
 seems too extravagant to deserve a confutation. Besides, it is 
 in effect no objection against what we have advanced, viz. that 
 there is no senseless unperceived substance. 
 
 72. If we follow the light of reason, we shall, from the constant 
 uniform method of our sensations, collect the goodness and wis- 
 dom of the Spirit who excites them in our minds; but this is all 
 that I can see reasonably concluded from thence. To me, I say, 
 it is evident that the being of a Spirit infinitely wise, good, and 
 powerful is abundantly sufficient to explain all the appearances 
 of nature. But, as for inert, senseless Matter, nothing that I per- 
 ceive has any the least connexion with it, or leads to the thoughts 
 of it. And I. would fain see any one explain any the meanest 
 phenomenon in nature by it, or shew any manner of reason, 
 though in the lowest rank of probability, that he can have for its 
 existence, or even make any tolerable sense or meaning of that 
 supposition. For, as to its being an occasion,* we have, I think, 
 evidently shewn that with regard to us it is no occasion. It re- 
 mains therefore that it must be, if at all, the occasion to God of 
 exciting ideas in us; and what this amounts to we have just now 
 seen. 
 
 73. It is worth while to reflect a little on the motives which 
 induced men to suppose the existence of material substance; that 
 so having observed the gradual ceasing and expiration of those 
 motives or reasons, we may proportionably withdraw the assent 
 that was grounded on them. First, therefore, it was thought that 
 colour, figure, motion, and the rest of the sensible qualities or 
 accidents, did really exist without the mind; and for this reason 
 it seemed needful to suppose some unthinking substratum or 
 substance wherein they did exist, since they could not be con- 
 ceived to exist by themselves. Afterwards, in process of time, 
 men being convinced that colours, sounds, and the rest of the 
 sensible, secondary qualities had no existence without the mind, 
 they stripped this substratum or material substance of those 
 
PRINCIPLES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 289 
 
 qualities, leaving only the primary ones, figure, motion, and such- 
 like, which they still conceived to exist without the mind, and 
 consequently to stand in need of a material support. But, it hav- 
 ing been shewn that none even of these can possibly exist other- 
 wise than in a Spirit er Mind which perceives them, it follows 
 that we have no longer any reason to suppose the being of 
 Matter; nay, that it is utterly impossible there should be any 
 such thing, so long as that word is taken to denote an unthinking 
 substratum of qualities or accidents wherein they exist without 
 the mind. 
 
 85. Having done with the Objections, which I endeavoured 
 to propose in the clearest light, and gave them all the force and 
 weight I could, we proceed in the next place to take a view of our 
 tenets in their Consequences. Some of these appear at first sight 
 as that several difficult and obscure questions, on which abun- 
 dance of speculation has been thrown away, are entirely banished 
 from philosophy. ''Whether corporeal substance can think," 
 "whether Matter be infinitely divisible," and "how it operates 
 on spirit" these and the like inquiries have given infinite 
 amusement to philosophers in all ages; but, depending on the 
 existence of Matter, they have no longer any place in our 
 principles. Many other advantages there are, as well with re- 
 gard to religion as the sciences, which it is easy for any one to 
 deduce from what has been premised; but this will appear 
 more plainly in the sequel. 
 
 86. From the Principles we have laid down it follows Human 
 Knowledge may naturally be reduced to two heads that of 
 ideas and that of spirits. Of each of these I shall treat in order. 
 
 And first as to ideas or unthinking things. Our knowledge 
 of these has been very much obscured and confounded, and 
 we have been led into very dangerous errors, by supposing a 
 two-fold existence of the objects of sense the one intelligible 
 or in the mind; the other real and without the mind; whereby 
 unthinking things are thought to have a natural subsistence of 
 their own, distinct from being perceived by spirits. This, which, 
 
ago BERKELEY 
 
 if I mistake not, hath been shewn to be a most groundless and 
 absurd notion, is the very root of Scepticism ; for, so long as men 
 thought that real things subsisted without the mind, and that 
 their knowledge was only so far forth real as it was conformable 
 to real things, it follows they could not be certain that they had 
 any real knowledge at all. For, how can it be known that the 
 things which are perceived are conformable to those which are 
 not perceived, or exist without the mind ? 
 
 87, Colour, figure, motion, extension, and the like, considered 
 only as so many sensations in the mind, are perfectly known, 
 there being nothing in them which is not perceived. But, if 
 they are looked on as notes or images, referred to things or arche- 
 types existing without . the mind, then are we involved all in 
 scepticism. We see only the appearances, and not the real quali- 
 ties of things. What may be the extension, figure, or motion of 
 anything really and absolutely, or in itself, it is impossible for 
 us to know, but only the proportion or relation they bear to our 
 senses. Things remaining the same, our ideas vary, and which 
 of them, or even whether any of them at all, represent the true 
 quality really existing in the thing, it is out of our reach to deter- 
 mine. So that, for aught we know, all we see, hear, and feel, may 
 be only phantom and vain chimera, and not at all agree with the 
 real things existing in rerum natura. All this sceptical cant fol j 
 lows from our supposing a difference between things and ideas, 
 and that the former have a subsistence without the mind or un- 
 perceived. It were easy to dilate on this subject, and shew how 
 the arguments urged by sceptics in all ages depend on the sup- 
 position of external objects. 
 
 88. So long as we attribute a real existence to unthinking 
 things, distinct from their being perceived, it is not only impos- 
 sible for us to know with evidence the nature of any real unthink- 
 ing being, but even that it exists. Hence it is that we see philoso- 
 phers distrust their senses, and doubt of the existence of heaven 
 and earth, of everything they see or feel, even of their own bodies. 
 And, after all their labouring and struggle of thought, they are 
 forced to own we cannot attain to any self-evident or demonstra- 
 tive knowledge of the existence of sensible things. But, all this 
 
PRINCIPLES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 291 
 
 doubtfulness, which so bewilders and confounds the mind and 
 makes philosophy ridiculous in the eyes of the world, vanishes 
 if <we annex a meaning to our words, and not amuse ourselves 
 with the terms absolute, external, exist, and such like signifying 
 we know not what. I can as well doubt of my own being as of 
 the being of those things which I actually perceive by sense; 
 it being a manifest contradiction that any sensible object should 
 be immediately perceived by sight or touch, and at the same 
 time have no existence in nature, since the very existence of an 
 unthinking being consists in being perceived. 
 
 89. Nothing seems of more importance towards erecting a 
 firm system of sound and real knowledge, which may be proof 
 against the assaults of Scepticism, than to lay the beginning in a 
 distinct explication of what is meant by thing, reality, existence; 
 for in vain shall we dispute concerning the real existence of 
 things, or pretend to any knowledge thereof, so long as we have 
 not fixed the meaning of those words. Thing or being is the 
 most general name of. all; it comprehends under it two kinds 
 entirely distinct and heterogeneous, and which have nothing 
 common but the name, viz. spirits and ideas. The former are 
 active, indivisible substances: the latter are inert, fleeting, or 
 dependent beings, which subsist not by themselves, but are sup- 
 ported by, or exist in minds or spiritual substances. We com- 
 prehend our own existence by inward feeling or reflexion, and 
 that of other spirits by reason. We may be said to have some 
 knowledge or notion of our own minds, of spirits and active 
 beings, whereof in a strict sense we have not ideas. In like man- 
 ner, we know and have a notion of relations between things 
 or ideas which relations are distinct from the ideas or things 
 related, inasmuch as the latter may be perceived by us without 
 our perceiving the former. To me it seems that ideas, spirits, 
 and relations are all, in their respective kinds, the object of human 
 knowledge and subject of discourse, and that the term idea would 
 be improperly extended to signify everything we know or have 
 any notion of. 
 
 90. Ideas imprinted on the senses are real things, or do really 
 exist : this we do not deny, but we deny they can subsist without 
 
292 BERKELEY 
 
 \ the minds which perceive them, or that they are resemblances 
 of any archetypes existing without the mind ; since the very being 
 of a sensation or idea consists in being perceived, and an idea 
 can be like nothing but an idea. Again, the things perceived by 
 sense may be termed external, with regard to their origin, in 
 that they are not generated from within by the mind itself, but 
 imprinted by a Spirit distinct from that which perceives them. 
 Sensible objects may likewise be said to be "without the mind" 
 in another sense, namely when they exist in some other mind; 
 thus, when I shut my eyes, the things I* saw may still exist, but it 
 must be in another mind. 
 
 91. It were a mistake to think that what is here said derogates 
 in the least from the reality of things. It is acknowledged, on the 
 received principles, that extension, motion, and in a word all 
 sensible qualities, have need of a support, as not being able to 
 subsist by themselves. But the objects perceived by sense are 
 allowed to be nothing but combinations of those qualities, and 
 consequently cannot subsist by themselves. Thus far it is agreed 
 on all hands. So that in denying the things perceived by sense an 
 existence independent of a substance of support wherein they 
 may exist, we detract nothing from the received opinion of their 
 reality, and are guilty of no innovation in that respect. All the 
 difference is that, according to us, the unthinking beings per- 
 ceived by sense have no existence distinct from being perceived, 
 and cannot therefore exist in any other substance than those 
 unextended indivisible substances or Spirits which act and think 
 and perceive them; whereas philosophers vulgarly hold the sen- 
 sible qualities do exist in an inert, extended, unperceiving sub- 
 stance which they call Matter, to which they attribute a natural 
 subsistence, exterior to all thinking beings, or distinct from being 
 perceived by any. mind whatsoever, even the eternal mind of the 
 Creator, wherein they suppose only ideas of the corporeal sub- 
 stances created by Him : if indeed they allow them to be at all 
 created. 
 
 92. For, as we have shewn the doctrine of Matter or corporeal 
 substance to have been the main pillar and support of Scepticism^ 
 
PRINCIPLES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 293 
 
 so likewise upon the same foundation have been raised all the 
 impious schemes of Atheism and Irreligion. Nay, so great a 
 difficulty has it been thought to conceive Matter produced out 
 of nothing, that the most celebrated among the ancient philoso- 
 phers, even of those who maintained the being of a God, have 
 thought Matter to be uncreated and coeternal with Him. How 
 great a friend material substance has been to Atheists in all ages 
 were needless to relate. All their monstrous systems have so 
 visible and necessary a dependence on it that, when this corner- 
 stone is once removed, the whole fabric cannot choose but fall 
 to the ground, insomuch that it is no longer worth while to 
 bestow a particular consideration on the absurdities of every 
 wretched sect of Atheists. 
 
 93. That impious and profane persons should readily fall in 
 with those systems which favour their inclinations, by deriding 
 immaterial substance, and supposing the soul to be divisible and 
 subject to corruption as the body; which exclude all freedom, 
 intelligence, and design from the formation of things, and instead 
 thereof make a self-existent, stupid, unthinking substance the 
 root and origin of all beings; that they should hearken to those 
 who deny a Providence, or inspection of a Superior Mind over 
 the affairs of the world, attributing the whole series of events 
 either to blind chance or fatal necessity arising from the impulse 
 of one body on another all this is very natural. And, on the 
 other hand, when men of better principles observe the enemies 
 of religion lay so great a stress on unthinking Matter, and all 
 of them use so much industry and artifice to reduce everything 
 to it^methinks they should rejoice to see them deprived of their 
 grand support, and driven from that only fortress, without which 
 your Epicureans, Hobbists, and the like, have not even the 
 shadow of a pretence, and become the most cheap and easy 
 triumph in the world. 
 
 94. The existence of Matter, or bodies unperceived, has not 
 only been the main support of Atheists and Fatalists, but on the 
 same principle doth Idolatry likewise in all its various forms 
 depend. Did men but consider that the sun, moon, and stars, 
 and every other object of the senses, are only so many sensations 
 
294 BERKELEY 
 
 in their minds, which have no other existence but barely being 
 perceived, doubtless they would never fall down and worship 
 their own ideas; but rather address their homage to that ETER- 
 NAL INVISIBLE MIND which produces and sustains all things. 
 
 95. The same absurd principle, by mingling itself with the 
 articles of our faith, has occasioned no small difficulties to 
 Christians. For example, about the Resurrection, how many 
 scruples and objections have been raised by Socinians and others ? 
 But do not the most plausible of them depend on the supposition 
 that a body is denominated the same, with regard not to the form, 
 or that which is perceived by sense, but the material substance, 
 which remains the same under several forms? Take away this 
 material substance, about the identity whereof all the dispute is, 
 and mean by body what every plain ordinary person means by 
 that word, to wit, that which is immediately seen and felt, which 
 is only a combination of sensible qualities or ideas: and then 
 their most unanswerable objections come to nothing. 
 
 96. Matter being once expelled out of nature drags with it so 
 many sceptical and impious notions, such an incredible number 
 of disputes and puzzling questions, which have been thorns in 
 the sides of divines as well as philosophers, and made so much 
 fruitless work for mankind, that if the arguments we have pro- 
 duced against it are not found equal to demonstration (as to me 
 they evidently seem), yet I am sure all friends to knowledge, 
 peace, and religion have reason to wish they were. 
 
 97. Beside the external existence of the objects of perception, 
 another great source of errors and difficulties with regard to 
 ideal knowledge is the doctrine of abstract ideas, such as it hath 
 been set forth in the Introduction. The plainest things in the 
 world, those we are most intimately acquainted with and per- 
 fectly know, when they are considered in an abstract way, 
 appear strangely difficult and incomprehensible. Time, place, 
 and motion, taken in particular or concrete, are what everybody 
 knows ; but, having passed through the hands of a metaphysician, 
 they become too abstract and fine to be apprehended by men 
 of ordinary sense. Bid your servant meet you at such a time in 
 
PRINCIPLES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 295 
 
 such a place, and he shall never stay to deliberate on the meaning 
 of those words. In conceiving that particular time and place, 
 or the motion by which he is to get thither, he finds not the least 
 difficulty. But if time be taken exclusive of all those particular 
 actions and ideas that diversify the day, merely for the continua- 
 tion of existence, or duration in abstract, then it will perhaps 
 gravel even a philosopher to comprehend it. 
 
 98. For my own part, whenever I attempt to frame a simple 
 idea of time, abstracted from the succession of ideas in my mind, 
 which flows uniformly and is participated by all beings, I am 
 lost and embrangled in inextricable difficulties. I have no notion 
 of it at all : only I hear others say it is infinitely divisible, and 
 speak of it in such a manner as leads me to harbour odd thoughts 
 of my existence; since that doctrine lays one under an absolute 
 necessity of thinking, either that he passes away innumerable 
 ages without a thought, or else that he is annihilated every mo- 
 ment of his life, both which seem equally absurd. Time there- 
 fore being nothing, abstracted from the succession of ideas in 
 our minds, it follows that the duration of any finite spirit must 
 be estimated by the number of ideas or actions succeeding each 
 other in that same spirit or mind. Hence, it is a plain conse- 
 quence that the soul always thinks; and in truth whoever shall 
 go about to divide in his thoughts, or abstract the existence of a 
 spirit from its cogitation, will, I believe, find it no easy task. 
 
 99. So likewise when we attempt to abstract Extension and 
 Motion from all other qualities, and consider them by themselves, 
 we presently lose sight of them, and run into great extrava- 
 gances. All which depend on a twofold abstraction: first, it is 
 supposed that extension, for example, may be abstracted from all 
 other sensible qualities; and secondly, that the entity of exten- 
 sion may be abstracted from its being perceived. But, whoever 
 shall reflect, and take care to understand what he says, will, if I 
 mistake not, acknowledge that all sensible qualities are alike 
 sensations and alike real; that where the extension is, there is 
 the colour, too, to wit, in his mind, and that their archetypes can 
 exist only in some other mind; and that the objects of sense are 
 nothing but those sensations combined, blended, or (if one may 
 
296 BERKELEY 
 
 so speak) concreted together: none of all which can be sup- 
 posed to exist unperceived. 
 
 100. What it is for a man to be happy, or an object good, 
 every one may think he knows. But to frame an abstract idea 
 of happiness, prescinded from all particular pleasure, or of good- 
 ness from everything that is good, this is what few can pretend 
 to. So likewise a man may be just and virtuous without having 
 precise ideas of justice and virtue. The opinion that those and 
 the like words stand for general notions, abstracted from all 
 particular persons and actions, seems to have rendered morality 
 very difficult, and the study thereof of small use to mankind. 
 And in effect the doctrine of abstraction has not a little contributed 
 towards spoiling the most useful parts of knowledge. 
 
 135. Having despatched what we intended to say concerning 
 the knowledge of IDEAS, the method we proposed leads us in 
 the next place to treat of SPIRITS with regard to which, per- 
 haps, human knowledge is not so deficient as is vulgarly imagined* 
 The great reason that is assigned for our being thought ignorant 
 of the nature of Spirits is, our not having an idea of it. But, 
 surely it ought not to be looked on as a defect in a human under- 
 standing that it does not perceive the idea of spirit, if it is mani- 
 festly impossible there should be any such idea. And this if I 
 mistake not has been demonstrated in section 27 ; to which I shall 
 here add that a spirit has been shewn to be the only substance 
 or support wherein unthinking beings or ideas can exist ; but that 
 this substance which supports or perceives ideas should itself be 
 an idea or like an idea is evidently absurd. 
 
 136. It will perhaps be said that we want a sense (as some 
 have imagined) proper to know substances withal, which, if we 
 had, we might know our own soul as we do a triangle. To this 
 I answer, that, in case we had a new sense bestowed upon us, 
 we could only receive thereby some new sensations or ideas of 
 sense. But I believe nobody will say that what he means by the 
 terms soul and substance is only some particular sort of idea or 
 sensation. We may therefore infer that, all things duly consid- 
 ered, it is not more reasonable to think our faculties defective, 
 
PRINCIPLES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 297 
 
 in that they do not furnish us with an idea of spirit or active 
 thinking substance, than it would be if we should blame them 
 for not being able to comprehend a round square. 
 
 137. From the opinion that spirits are to be known after the 
 manner of an idea or sensation have risen many absurd and 
 heterodox tenets, and much scepticism about the nature of the 
 soul. It is even probable that this opinion may have produced a 
 doubt in some whether they had any soul at all distinct from their 
 body, since upon inquiry they could not find they had an idea 
 of it. That an idea which is inactive, and the existence whereof 
 consists in being perceived, should be the image or likeness of an 
 agent subsisting by itself, seems to need no other refutation than 
 barely attending to what is meant by those words. But, perhaps 
 you will say that though an idea cannot resemble a spirit in its 
 thinking, acting, or subsisting by itself, yet it may in some other 
 respects; and it is not necessary that an idea or image be in all 
 respects like the original. 
 
 138. I answer, if it does not in those mentioned, it is impossible 
 it should represent it in any other thing. Do but leave out the 
 power of willing, thinking, and perceiving ideas, and there re- 
 mains nothing else wherein the idea can be like a spirit. For, by 
 the word spirit we mean only that which thinks, wills, and per- 
 ceives; this, and this alone, constitutes the signification of that 
 term. If therefore it is impossible that any degree of those powers 
 should be represented in an idea, it is evident there can be no 
 idea of a spirit. 
 
 139. But it will be objected that, if there is no idea signified 
 by the terms soul, spirit, and substance, they are wholly insig- 
 nificant, or have no meaning in them. I answer, those words do 
 mean or signify a real thing which is neither an idea nor like an 
 idea, but that which perceives ideas, and wills, and reasons about 
 them. What I am myself, that which I denote by the term 7, 
 is the same with what is meant by soul or spiritual substance. 
 If it be said that this is only quarreling at a word, and that, since 
 the immediate significations of other names are by common 
 consent called ideas, no reason can be assigned why that which 
 is signified by the name spirit or soul may not partake in the 
 
298 BERKELEY 
 
 same appellation, I answer, all the unthinking objects of the 
 mind agree in that they are entirely passive, and their existence 
 consists only in being perceived; whereas a soul or spirit is an 
 active being, whose existence consists, not in being perceived, 
 but in perceiving ideas and thinking. It is therefore necessary, 
 in order to prevent equivocation and confounding natures per- 
 fectly disagreeing and unlike, that we distinguish between spirit 
 and idea. See sect. 27. 
 
 140. In a large sense, indeed, we may be said to have an idea, 
 or rather a notion of spirit; that is, we understand the meaning 
 of the word, otherwise we could not affirm or deny anything of it. 
 Moreover, as we conceive the ideas that are in the minds of other 
 spirits by means of our own, which we suppose to be resemblances 
 of them ; so we know other spirits by means of our own soul 
 which in that sense is the image or idea of them; it having a like 
 respect to other spirits that blueness or heat by me perceived 
 has to those ideas perceived by another. 
 
 141. [The natural immortality of the Soul is a necessary conse- 
 quence of the foregoing doctrine. But before we attempt to prove 
 this, it is fit that we explain the meaning of that tenet.]* It must 
 not be supposed that they who assert the natural immortality 
 of the soul are of opinion that it is absolutely incapable of anni- 
 hilation even by the infinite power of the Creator who first gave 
 it being, but only that it is not liable to be broken or dissolved 
 by the ordinary laws of nature or motion. They indeed who hold 
 the soul of man to be only a thin vital flame, or system of animal 
 spirits, make it perishing and corruptible as the body ; since there 
 is nothing more easily dissipated than such a being, which it is 
 naturally impossible should survive the ruin of the tabernacle 
 wherein it is enclosed. And this notion has been greedily em- 
 braced and cherished by the worst part of mankind, as the most 
 "effectual antidote against all impressions of virtue and religion. 
 But it has been made evident that bodies, of what frame or text- 
 ure soever, are barely passive ideas in the mind which is more 
 distant and heterogeneous from them than light is from darkness. 
 We have shewn that the soul is indivisible, incorporeal, unex- 
 
 * Omitted from the second edition. 
 
PRINCIPLES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 299 
 
 tended, and it is consequently* incorruptible. Nothing can be 
 plainer than that the motions, changes, decays, and dissolutions 
 which we hourly see befall natural bodies (and which is what 
 we mean by the course of nature) cannot possibly affect an active, 
 simple, uncompounded substance: such a being therefore is in- 
 dissoluble by the force of nature; that is to say, "the soul of man 
 is naturally immortal." 
 
 142. After what has been said, it is, I suppose, plain that our 
 souls are not to be known in the same manner as senseless, 
 inactive objects, or by way of idea. Spirits and ideas are things 
 so wholly different, that when we say "they exist," "they are 
 known," or the like, these words must not be thought to signify 
 anything common to both natures. There is nothing alike or 
 common in them: and to expect that by any multiplication or 
 enlargement of our faculties we may be enabled to know a spirit 
 as we do a triangle, seems as absurd as if we should hope to see 
 a sound. This is inculcated because I imagine it may be of mo- 
 ment towards clearing several important questions, and prevent- 
 ing some very dangerous errors concerning the nature of the soul. 
 
 * We may not, I think, strictly be said to have an idea of an 
 active being, or of an action, although we may be said to have 
 a notion of them. I have some knowledge or notion of my 
 mind, and its acts about ideas inasmuch as I know or under- 
 stand what is meant by these words. What I know, that I have 
 some notion of. I will not say that the terms idea and notion may 
 not be used convertibly, if the world will have it so; but yet it 
 conduceth to clearness and propriety that we distinguish things 
 very different by different names. It is also to be remarked that, 
 all relations including an act of the mind, we cannot so properly 
 be said to have an idea, but rather a notion of the relations and 
 habitudes between things. But if, in the modern way, the word 
 idea is extended to spirits, and relations, and acts, this is, after 
 all, an affair of verbal concern. 
 
 143. It will not be amiss to add, that the doctrine of abstract 
 
 * What follows to the end of this section was introduced in the second edition, 
 and in it this special use of the term notion was first made. 
 
3 oo BERKELEY 
 
 ideas has had no small share in rendering those sciences intricate 
 and obscure which are particularly conversant about spiritual 
 things. Men have imagined they could frame abstract notions 
 of the powers and acts of the mind, and consider them prescinded 
 as well from the mind or spirit itself, as from their respective 
 objects and effects. Hence a great number of dark and ambigu- 
 ous terms, presumed to stand for abstract notions, have been 
 introduced into metaphysics and morality, and from these have 
 grown infinite distractions and disputes among the learned. 
 
 144. But, nothing seems more to have contributed towards 
 engaging men in controversies and mistakes with regard to the 
 nature and operations of the mind, than the being used to speak 
 of those things in terms borrowed from sensible ideas. For ex- 
 ample, the will is termed the motion of the soul: this infuses a 
 belief that the mind of man is as a ball in motion, impelled and 
 determined by the objects of sense, as necessarily as that is by 
 the stroke of a racket. Hence arise endless scruples and errors 
 of dangerous consequence in morality. All which, I doubt not, 
 may be cleared, and truth appear plain, uniform, and consistent, 
 could but philosophers be prevailed on to depart from some 
 received prejudices and modes of- speech, and retire into them- 
 selves, and attentively consider their own meaning. 
 
 145. From what has been said, it is plain that we cannot 
 know the existence of other spirits otherwise than by their 
 operations, or the ideas by them excited in us. I perceive several 
 motions, changes, and combinations of ideas, that inform me 
 there are certain particular agents, like myself, which accompany 
 them and concur in their production. Hence, the knowledge 
 I have of other spirits is not immediate, as is the knowledge of 
 my ideas; but depending on the intervention of ideas, by me 
 referred to agents or spirits distinct from myself, as effects or 
 concomitant signs. 
 
 146. But, though there be some things which convince us 
 human agents are concerned in producing them, yet it is evi- 
 dent to every one that those things which are called the Works 
 of Nature that is, the far greater part of the ideas or sensa- 
 
PRINCIPLES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 301 
 
 tions perceived by us are not produced by, or dependent on, 
 the wills of men. There is therefore some other Spirit that causes 
 them; since it is repugnant that they should subsist by them- 
 selves. See sect. 29. But, if we attentively consider the constant 
 regularity, order, and concatenation of natural things, the sur- 
 prising magnificence, beauty, and perfection of the larger, and 
 the exquisite contrivance of the smaller parts of creation, together 
 with the exact harmony and correspondence of the whole; but 
 above all the never-enough-admired laws of pain and pleasure, 
 and the instincts or natural inclinations, appetites, and passions 
 of animals ; I say if we consider all these things, and at the 
 same time attend to the meaning and import of the attributes 
 One, Eternal, Infinitely Wise, Good, and Perfect, we shall clearly 
 perceive that they belong to the aforesaid Spirit, "who works 
 all in all," and "by whom all things consist." 
 
 147. Hence, it is evident that God is known as certainly and 
 immediately as any other mind or spirit whatsoever distinct from 
 ourselves. We may even assert that the existence of God is far 
 more evidently perceived than the existence of men ; because the 
 effects of Nature are infinitely more numerous and considerable 
 than those ascribed to human agents. There is not any one 
 mark that denotes a man, or effect produced by him, which does 
 not more strongly evince the being of that Spirit who is the Author 
 of Nature. For, it is evident that in affecting other persons the 
 will of man has no other object than barely the motion of the 
 limbs of his body ; but that such a motion should be attended by, 
 or excite any idea in the mind of another, depends wholly on the 
 will of the Creator. He alone it is who, "upholding all things 
 by the word of His power," maintains that intercourse between 
 spirits whereby they are able to perceive the existence of each 
 other. And yet this pure and clear light which enlightens every 
 one is itself invisible. 
 
 148. It seems to be a general pretence of the unthinking herd 
 that they cannot see God. Could we but see Him, say they, as 
 we see a man, we should believe that He is, and believing obey 
 His commands. But alas, we need only open our eyes to see 
 the Sovereign Lord of all things, with a more full and clear view 
 
302 
 
 BERKELEY 
 
 than we do any one of our fellow-creatures. Not that I imagine 
 we see God (as some will have it) by a direct and immediate 
 view; or see corporeal things, not by themselves, but by seeing 
 that which represents them in the essence of God, which doctrine 
 is, I must confess, to me incomprehensible. But I shall explain 
 my meaning: A human spirit or person is not perceived by 
 sense, as not being an idea; when therefore we see the colour, 
 size, figure, and motions of a man, we perceive only certain 
 sensations or ideas excited in our own minds; and these being 
 exhibited to our view in sundry distinct collections, serve to 
 mark out unto us the existence of finite and created spirits like 
 ourselves. Hence it is plain we do not see a man if by man 
 is meant that which lives, moves, perceives, and thinks as we do 
 - but only such a certain collection of ideas as directs us to 
 think there is a distinct principle of thought and motion, like 
 to ourselves, accompanying and represented by it. And after 
 the same manner we see God; all the difference is that, whereas 
 some one finite and narrow assemblage of ideas denotes a particu- 
 lar human mind, whithersoever we direct our view, we do at all 
 times and in all places perceive manifest tokens of the Divin- 
 ity: everything we see, hear, feel, or anywise perceive by Sense, 
 being a sign or effect of the power of God; as is our perception 
 of those very motions which are produced by men. 
 
 149. It is therefore plain that nothing can be more evident to 
 any one that is capable of the least reflexion than the existence 
 of God, or a Spirit who is intimately present to our minds - 
 producing in them all that variety of ideas or sensations which 
 continually affect us, on whom we have an absolute and entire 
 dependence, in short "in whom we live, and move, and have our 
 being." That the discovery of this great truth, which lies so 
 near and obvious to the mind, should be attained to by the reason 
 of so very few, is a sad instance of the stupidity and inattention 
 of men, who, though they are surrounded with such clear mani- 
 festations of the Deity, are yet so little affected by them that they 
 seem, as it were, blinded with excess of light. 
 
 150. But you will say, Hath Nature no share in the produc- 
 tion of natural things, and must they be all ascribed to the imme- 
 
PRINCIPLES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 303 
 
 diate and sole operation of God? I answer, if by Nature is 
 meant only the visible series of effects or sensations imprinted 
 on our minds, according to certain fixed and general laws, then 
 it is plain that Nature, taken in this sense, cannot produce any- 
 thing at all. But, if by Nature is meant some being distinct from 
 God, as well as from the laws of nature, and things perceived by 
 sense, I must confess that word is to me an empty sound without 
 any intelligible meaning annexed to it. Nature, in this accepta- 
 tion, is a vain chimera, introduced by those heathens who had 
 not just notions of the omnipresence and infinite perfection of 
 God. But, it is more unaccountable that it should be received 
 among Christians, professing belief in the Holy Scriptures, which 
 constantly ascribe those effects to the immediate hand of God 
 that heathen philosophers are wont to impute to Nature? "The 
 Lord He causeth the vapours to ascend; He maketh lightnings 
 with rain; He bringeth forth the wind out of his treasures." 
 Jerem. x. 13. " He furneth the shadow of death into the morning, 
 and maketh the day dark with night." Amos v. 8. "He visiteth 
 the earth, and maketh it soft with showers: He blesseth the 
 springing thereof, and crowneth the year with His goodness; so 
 that the pastures are clothed with flocks, and the valleys are 
 covered over with corn." See Psalm Ixv. But, notwithstanding 
 that this is the constant language of Scripture, yet we have I 
 know not what aversion from believing that God concerns Him- 
 self so nearly in our affairs. Fain would we suppose Him at a 
 great distance off, and substitute some blind unthinking deputy 
 in His stead, though (if we may believe Saint Paul) "He be not 
 far from every one of us." 
 
 151. It will, I doubt not, be objected that the slow, gradual, and 
 roundabout methods observed in the production of natural 
 things do not seem to have for their cause the immediate hand 
 of an Almighty Agent. Besides, monsters, untimely births, fruits 
 blasted in the blossom, rains falling in desert places, miseries 
 incident to human life, and the like, are so many arguments 
 that the whole frame of nature is not immediately actuated and 
 superintended by a Spirit of infinite wisdom and goodness. But 
 the answer to this objection is in a good measure plain from sect. 
 
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 62 ; it being visible that the aforesaid methods of nature are ab- 
 solutely necessary, in order to working by the most simple and 
 general rules, and after a steady and consistent manner; which 
 argues both the wisdom and goodness of God. Such is the arti- 
 ficial contrivance of this mighty machine of Nature that, whilst its 
 motions and various phenomena strike on our senses, the hand 
 which actuates the whole is itself unperceivable to men of flesh 
 and blood. "Verily" (saith the prophet) "thou art a God that 
 hidest thyself." Isaiah xlv. 15. But, though the Lord conceal 
 Himself from the eyes of the sensual and lazy, who will not be 
 at the least expense of thought, yet to an unbiassed and atten- 
 tive mind nothing can be more plainly legible than the intimate 
 presence of an All- wise Spirit, who fashions, regulates, and 
 sustains the whole system of beings. It is clear, from what we 
 have elsewhere observed, that the operating according to gen- 
 eral and stated laws is so necessary for our guidance in the 
 affairs of life, and letting us into the secret of nature, that with- 
 out it all reach and compass of thought, all human sagacity and 
 design, could serve to no manner of purpose. It were even im- 
 possible there should be any such faculties or powers in the 
 mind. See sect. 31. Which one consideration abundantly out- 
 balances whatever particular inconveniences may thence arise. 
 152. But we should further consider that the very blemishes 
 and defects of nature are not without their use, in that they make 
 an agreeable sort of variety, and augment the beauty of the rest 
 of the creation, as shades in a picture serve to set off the brighter 
 and more enlightened parts. We would likewise do well to ex- 
 amine whether our taxing the waste of seeds and embryos, and 
 accidental destruction of plants and animals, before they come 
 to full maturity, as an imprudence in the Author of nature, be 
 not the effect of prejudice contracted by our familiarity with 
 impotent and saving mortals. In man indeed a thrifty man- 
 agement of those things which he cannot procure without much 
 pains and industry may be esteemed wisdom. But, we must 
 not imagine that the inexplicably fine machine of an animal or 
 vegetable costs the great Creator any more pains or trouble in 
 its production than a pebble does; nothing being more evident 
 
PRINCIPLES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE 305 
 
 than that an Omnipotent Spirit can indifferently produce every- 
 thing by a mere fiat or act of His will. Hence it is plain that the 
 splendid profusion of natural things should not be interpreted 
 weakness or prodigality in the Agent who produces them, but 
 rather be looked on as an argument of the riches of His power. 
 
 153. As for the mixture of pain or uneasiness which is in the 
 world, pursuant to the general laws of Nature, and the actions 
 of finite, imperfect Spirits, this, in the state we are in at present, 
 is indispensably necessary to our well-being. But our prospects 
 are too narrow. We take, for instance, the idea of some one 
 particular pain into our thoughts, and account it evil ; whereas, 
 if we enlarge our view, so as to comprehend the various ends, 
 connexions, and dependencies of things, on what occasions and 
 in what proportions we are affected with pain and pleasure, the 
 nature of human freedom, and the design with which we are 
 put into the world; we shall be forced to acknowledge that those 
 particular things which, considered in themselves, appear to be 
 evil, have the nature of good, when considered as linked with 
 the whole system of beings. 
 
 154. From what has been said, it will be manifest to any con- 
 sidering person, that it is merely for want of attention and com- 
 prehensiveness of mind that there are any favourers of Atheism 
 or the Manichaean Heresy * to be found. Little and unreflecting 
 souls may indeed burlesque the works of Providence the beauty 
 and order whereof they have not capacity, or will not be at the 
 pains, to comprehend; but those who are masters of any justness 
 and extent of thought, and are withal used to reflect, can never 
 sufficiently admire the divine traces of Wisdom and Goodness 
 that shine throughout the Economy of Nature. But what truth 
 is there which glares so strongly on the mind that, by an aversion 
 of thought a wilful shutting of the eyes we may not escape 
 seeing it ? Is it therefore to be wondered at, if the generality of 
 men, who are ever intent on business or pleasure, and little used 
 to fix or open the eye of their mind, should not have all that 
 
 * Manichaeism, the doctrine of Manes, a Persian philosopher of the third cen- 
 tury, who held the essential and eternal duality of the Supreme Power to be the 
 explanation of the mingled good and evil that is in the universe. 
 
306 BERKELEY 
 
 conviction and evidence of the Being of God which might be 
 expected in reasonable creatures? 
 
 155. We should rather wonder that men can be found so stupid 
 as to neglect, than that neglecting they should be unconvinced 
 of such an evident and momentous truth. And yet it is to be 
 feared that too many of parts and leisure, who live in Christian 
 countries, are, merely through a supine and dreadful negligence, 
 sunk into Atheism. [They cannot say there is not a God, but 
 neither are they convinced that there is.]* Since it is down- 
 right impossible that a soul pierced and enlightened with a 
 thorough sense of the omnipresence, holiness, and justice of that 
 Almighty Spirit should persist in a remorseless violation of His 
 laws, we ought, therefore, earnestly to meditate and dwell on 
 those important points; that so we may attain conviction without 
 all scruple " that the eyes of the Lord are in every place behold- 
 ing the evil and the good ; that He is with us and keepeth us in 
 all places whither we go, and giveth us bread to eat and raiment 
 to put on;" that He is present and conscious to our innermost 
 thoughts; in fine, that we have a most absolute and immediate 
 dependence on Him. A clear view of which great truths cannot 
 choose but fill our hearts with an awful circumspection and holy 
 fear, which is the strongest incentive to Virtue, and the best guard 
 against Vice. ^ 
 
 156. For, after all, what deserves the first place in our studies 
 is the consideration of GOD and our Duty, which to promote, as 
 it was the main drift and design of my labours, so shall I esteem 
 them altogether useless and ineffectual if, by what I have said, 
 I cannot inspire my readers with a pious sense of the Presence of 
 God; and, having shewn the falseness or vanity of those barren 
 speculations which make the chief employment of learned men, 
 the better dispose them to reverence and embrace the salutary 
 truths of the Gospel, which to know and to practice is the highest 
 perfection of human nature. 
 
 * Omitted in second edition. 
 
DAVID HUME 
 
 (1711-1766) 
 
 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING HUMAN UNDER- 
 STANDING* 
 
 SECTION II. OF THE ORIGIN OF IDEAS 
 
 EVERY one will readily allow, that there is a considerable differ- 
 ^encc between the perceptions of the mind, when a man feels the 
 pain of excessive heat, or the pleasure of moderate warmth, 
 and when he afterwards recalls to his memory this sensation, 
 or anticipates it by his imagination.' These faculties may mimic 
 or copy the perceptions of the senses ; but they never can entirely 
 reach the force and vivacity of the original sentiment.' The 
 utmost we say of them, even when they operate with greatest 
 vigour, is, that they represent their object in so lively a manner, 
 that we could^/w^)say we feel or see it. But, except the mind 
 be disorderecHjy disease or madness, they never can arrive at 
 such a pitch of vivacity, as to render these perceptions altogether 
 undistinguishable. All the colours of poetry, however splendid, 
 can never paint natural objects in such a manner as to make 
 the description be taken for a real landskip. The most lively 
 thought is still inferior to the dullest sensation. 
 
 We may observe a like distinction to run through all the other 
 perceptions of the mind. A man in a fit of anger, is actuated in a 
 very different manner from one who only thinks of that emotion. 
 If you tell me, that any person is in love, I easily understand 
 your meaning, and form a just conception of his situation; but 
 never can mistake that conception for the real disorders and 
 agitations of the passion/ When we reflect on our past senti- 
 ments and affections, our thought is a faithful mirror, and copies 
 its objects truly; but the colours which it employs are faint and 
 dull, in comparison of those in which our original perceptions 
 * First edition, London, 1748; id.. Essays, *&., 1777; ib., 1898, vol. ii. 
 
3 o8 HUME 
 
 were clothed. It requires no nice discernment or metaphysical 
 head to mark the distinction between them. 
 
 Here therefore we may divide all the perceptions of the mind 
 into two classes or species, which are distinguished by their 
 different degrees of force and vivacity. The less forcible and 
 lively are commonly denominated Thoughts ; or Ideas. The other 
 species want a name in our language, and in most others; I 
 suppose, because it was not requisite for any but philosophical 
 purposes, to rank them under a general term or appellation. 
 Let us, therefore, use a little freedom, and call them Impres- 
 sions; employing that word in a sense somewhat different from 
 the usual. By the term impression, then, I mean all our more 
 lively perceptions, when we hear, or see, or feel, or love, or hate, 
 or desire, or will. And the impressions are distinguished from 
 ideas, which are the less lively perceptions, of which we are 
 conscious, when we reflect on any of those sensations or move- 
 ments above mentioned. 
 
 Nothing, at first view, may seem more unbounded than the 
 thought of man, which not only escapes all human power and 
 authority, but is not even restrained within the limits of nature 
 and reality. To form monsters, and join incongruous shapes 
 and appearances, costs the imagination no more trouble than 
 to conceive the most natural and familiar objects. And while 
 the body is confined to one planet, along which it creeps with 
 pain and difficulty; the thought can in an instant transport us 
 into the most distant regions of the universe; or even beyond 
 the universe, into the unbounded chaos, where nature is supposed 
 to lie in total confusion. What never was seen, or heard of, may 
 yet be conceived; nor is any thing beyond the power of thought, 
 except what implies an absolute contradiction. 
 
 But though our thought seems to possess this unbounded 
 liberty, we shall find, upon a nearer examination, that it is really 
 confined within very narrow limits, and that all this creative 
 power of the mind amounts to no more than the faculty of com- 
 pounding, transposing, augmenting, or diminishing the materials 
 afforded us by the senses and experience. When we think of a 
 golden mountain, we only join two consistent ideas, gold, and 
 
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 309 
 
 mountain, with which we were formerly acquainted. A virtuous 
 horse we can conceive; because, from our own feeling, we can 
 conceive virtue; and this we may unite to the ifigure and shape 
 of a horse, which is an animal familiar to us. In short, all the 
 materials of thinking are derived either from our outward or 
 inward sentiment : The mixture and composition of these belongs 
 alone to the mind and will. Or, to express myself in philosophical 
 language, a^ourideas or more feeble perceptions are copies of 
 our impressions or more lively ones. 
 
 To prove this, the two following arguments will, I hope, be 
 sufficient. First, when we analyze our thoughts or ideas, however 
 compounded, or sublime, we always find that they resolve them- 
 selves into such simple ideas as were copied from a precedent 
 feeling or sentiment. Even those ideas, which, at first view, seem, 
 the most wide of this origin, are found, upon a nearer scrutiny, 
 to be derived from it. The idea of God, as meaning an infinitely 
 intelligent, wise, and good Being, arises from reflecting on the 
 operations of our own mind, and augmenting, without limit, 
 those qualities of goodness and wisdom,. We may prosecute 
 this enquiry to what length we please ;' where we shall always . 
 find, that every idea which we examine js copied from a sim- yV 
 ilar impression. Those who would assert that this position is 
 not universally true nor without exception, have only one, and 
 that an easy method of refuting it; by producing that idea, 
 which, in their opinion, is not derived from this source. It will 
 then be incumbent on us, if we would maintain our doctrine, to } 
 produce the impression, or lively perception, which corresponds 
 to it. 
 
 Secondly. If it happen, from a defect of the organ, that a 
 man is not susceptible of any species of sensation, we always 
 find, that he is as little susceptible of the correspondent ideas. 
 A blind man can form no notion of colours ; a deaf man of sounds. 
 Restore either of them that sense in which he is deficient; by 
 opening this new inlet for his sensations, you also open an inlet 
 for the ideas; and he finds no difficulty in conceiving these 
 objects. The case is the same, if the object, proper for exciting 
 any sensation, has never been applied to the organ. A Laplander 
 
3 io HUME 
 
 or Negro has no notion of the relish of wine. And though there 
 are few or no instances of a like deficiency in the mind, where a 
 person has never felt or is wholly incapable of a sentiment or 
 passion that belongs to his species; yet we find the same observa- 
 tion to take place in a less degree. A man of mild manners can 
 form no idea of inveterate revenge or cruelty; nor can a selfish 
 heart easily conceive the heights of friendship and generosity. 
 It is readily allowed, that other beings may possess many senses 
 of which we can have no conception; because the ideas of them 
 have never been introduced to us in the only runner by which an 
 idea can have access to the mind, to wit, by the actual feeling and 
 sensation. 
 
 There is, however, one contradictory phenomenon, which 
 may prove that it is not absolutely impossible for ideas to arise, 
 independent of their correspondent impressions. I believe it will 
 readily be allowed, that the several distinct ideas of colour, 
 which enter by the eye, or those of sound, which are conveyed 
 by the ear, are really different from each other; though, at the 
 same time, resembling. Now if this be true of different colours, 
 it must be no less so of the different shades of the same colour; 
 and each shade produces a distinct idea, independent of the rest. 
 For if this should be denied, it is possible, by the continual gra- 
 dation of shades, to run a colour insensibly into what is most 
 remote from it ; and if you will not allow any of the means to be 
 different, you cannot, without absurdity, dny the extremes to 
 be the same. Suppose, therefore, a person to have enjoyed his 
 sight for thirty years, and to have become perfectly acquainted 
 with colours of all kinds except one particular shade of blue, 
 for instance, which it never has been his fortune to meet with. 
 Let all the different shades of that colour, except that single one, 
 be placed before him, descending gradually from the deepest to 
 the lightest; it is plain that he will perceive a blank, where that 
 shade is wanting, and will be sensible that there is a greater dis- 
 tance in that place between the contiguous colours than in any 
 other. Now I ask, whether it be possible for him, from his own 
 imagination, to supply this deficiency, and raise up to himself the 
 idea of that particular shade, though it had never been conveyed 
 
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 311 
 
 to him by his senses? I believe there are few but will be of 
 opinion that he can : and this may serve as a proof that the simple 
 ideas are not always, in every instance, derived from the corre- 
 spondent impressions; though this instance is so singular, that 
 it is scarcely worth our observing, and does not merit that for it 
 alone we should alter our general maxim. 
 
 Here, therefore, is a proposition, which not only seems, in 
 itself, simple and intelligible; but, if a proper use were made of 
 it, might render every dispute equally intelligible, and banish 
 all that jargon, which has so long taken possession of metaphysi- 
 cal reasonings, and drawn disgrace upon them. All ideas, espe- 
 cially abstract ones, are naturally faint and obscure: the mind 
 has but a slender hold of them: they are apt to be confounded 
 with other resembling ideas; and when we have often employed 
 any term, though without a distinct meaning, we are ap.t to 
 imagine it has a determinate idea annexed to it,. On the con- 
 trary, all impressions, that is, all sensations, either outward or 
 inward, are strong and vivid : The limits between them are more 
 exactly determined : nor is it easy to fall into any error or mistake 
 with regard to them. When we entertain, therefore, any suspicion 
 that a philosophical term is employed without any meaning or 
 idea (as is but too frequent), we need butenquire, from what im- 
 pression is that supposed idea derived ?/n(ljl it be impossible to 
 ^assign any 3 .lbjsjvill serve to confirm our suspicion. 1 By bririg- 
 
 1 It is probable that no more was meant by those, who denied innate ideas, 
 than that all ideas were copies of our impressions; though it must be confessed, 
 that the terms, which they employed, were not chosen with such caution, nor 
 so exactly denned, as to prevent all mistakes about their doctrine.' For what 
 is meant by innate? If innate be equivalent to natural, then all the perceptions 
 and ideas of the mind must be allowed to be innate or natural, in whatever 
 sense we take the latter word, whether in opposition to what is uncommon, 
 artificial, or miraculous. If by innate be meant, contemporary to our birth, 
 the dispute seems to be frivolous; nor is it worth while to enquire at what time 
 thinking begins, whether before, at, or after our birth. Again, the word idea, 
 seems to be commonly taken in a very loose sense, by LOCKE and others; as 
 standing for any of our perceptions, our sensations and passions, as welh as 
 thoughts. Now in this sense, I should desire to know, what can be meant by 
 asserting, that self-love, or resentment of injuries, or the passion between the 
 sexes is not innate? 
 
 But admitting these terms, impressions and ideas, in the sense above explained, 
 and understanding by innate, what is original or copied from no precedent 
 
3 12 HUME 
 
 ing ide*as into so clear a light we may reasonably hope to re- 
 move all dispute, which may arise, concerning their nature and 
 reality. 
 
 SECTION III. OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 
 
 It is evident, that there is a principle or connexion between the 
 different thoughts or ideas of the mind, and that, in their appear- 
 ance to the memory or imagination, they introduce each other 
 with a certain degree of method and regularity. In our more 
 serious thinking or discourse this is so observable that any par- 
 ticular thought, which breaks in upon the regular tract or chain 
 of ideas, is immediately remarked and rejected. And even in 
 our wildest and most wandering reveries, nay in our very dreams, 
 we shall find, if we reflect, that the imagination ran not alto- 
 gether at adventures, but that there was still a 'connexion up- 
 held among the different ideas, which succeeded each other. 
 Were the loosest and freest conversation to be transcribed, 
 there would immediately be observed something which connected 
 it in all its transitions. Or where this is wanting, the person 
 who broke the thread of discourse might still inform you, that 
 there had secretly revolved in his mind a succession of thought, 
 which had gradually led him from the subject of conversation. 
 Among different languages, even where we cannot suspect the 
 least connexion or communication, it is found, that the words, 
 expressive of ideas, the most compounded, do yet nearly corre- 
 spond to each other : a certain proof, that the simple ideas, com- 
 prehended in the compound ones, were bound together by some 
 universal principle, which had an equal influence on all mankind. 
 
 Though it be too obvious to escape observation, that different 
 ideas are connected together; I do not find that any philosopher 
 has attempted to enumerate or class all the principles of associa- 
 
 perception, then may we assert that all our impressions are innate and our ideas 
 not innate. 
 
 To be ingenuous, I must own it to be my opinion, that MR. LOCKE was be- 
 trayed into this question by the schoolmen, who, making use of undefined terms, 
 draw out their disputes to a tedious length, without lever touching the point in 
 question. A like ambiguity and circumlocution seem to run through that phi- 
 losopher's reasonings on this as well as most other subjects. 
 
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 313 
 
 tion; a subject, however, that seems worthy of curiosity. To me, 
 there appear to be only three principles of connexion among 
 ideas, namely, Resemblance, Contiguity in time or place, and 
 Cause or Effect. 
 
 That these principles serve to connect ideas will not, I believe, 
 be much doubted. A picture naturally leads our thoughts to 
 the original: * the mention of one apartment in a building natu- 
 rally introduces an enquiry or discourse concerning the others : 2 
 and if we think of a wound, we can scarcely forbear reflecting 
 on the pain which follows it. 3 But that this enumeration is com- 
 plete, and that there are no other principles of association except 
 these, may be difficult to prove to the satisfaction of the reader, 
 or even to a man's own satisfaction. All we can do, in such cases, 
 is to run over several instances, and examine carefully the prin- 
 ciple which binds the different thoughts to each other, never 
 stopping till we render the principle as general as possible. 4 
 The more instances we examine, and the more care we employ, 
 the more assurance shall we acquire, that the enumeration, 
 which we form from the whole, is complete and entire. 
 
 SECTION IV. SCEPTICAL DOUBTS CONCERNING 
 THE OPERATIONS OF THE UNDERSTANDING 
 
 PART I 
 
 All the objects of human reason or enquiry may naturally be 
 divided into two kinds, to wit, Relations of Ideas, and Matters 
 o) Fact. Of the first kind are the sciences of Geometry, Algebra, 
 and Arithmetic ; and in short, every affirmation which is either 
 intuitively or demonstratively certain. That the square o) ike 
 hypothenuse is equal to the squares oj the two sides, is a proposi- 
 tion which expresses a relation between these figures. That three 
 times -five is equal to the halj of thirty, expresses a relation be- 
 
 1 Resemblance. 2 Contiguity. 3 Cause and effect. 
 
 4 For instance, Contrast or Contrariety is also a connexion among Ideas; but it 
 may, perhaps, be considered as a mixture of Causation and Resemblance. Where 
 two objects are contrary, the one destroys the other ; that is, is the cau^e of its 
 annihilation, and the idea of the annihilation of an object implies the idea 
 former existence. 
 
3 1 4 HUME 
 
 tween these numbers. Propositions of this kind are discoverable 
 by the mere operation of thought, without dependence on what 
 is anywhere existent in the universe. Though there never were 
 a circle or triangle in nature, the truths demonstrated by Euclid 
 would for ever' retain their certainty and evidence. 
 
 Matters of fact, which are the second objects of human rea- 
 son, are not ascertained in the same manner; nor is our evidence 
 of their truth, however great, of a like nature with the foregoing. 
 The contrary of every matter of fact is still possible; because it 
 can never imply a contradiction, and is conceived by the mind 
 with the same facility and distinctness, as if ever so conformable 
 to reality. That the sun will not rise to-morrow is no less intel- 
 ligible a proposition, and implies no more contradiction than 
 the affirmation, that it will rise. We should in vain, therefore, 
 attempt to demonstrate its falsehood. Were it demonstratively 
 false, it would imply a contradiction, and could never be dis- 
 tinctly conceived by the mind. 
 
 It may, therefore, be a subject worthy of curiosity, to enquire 
 what is the nature of that evidence which assures us of any real 
 existence and matter of fact, beyond the present testimony of 
 our senses, or the records of our memory. This part of philosophy, 
 it is observable, has been little cultivated, either by the ancients 
 or moderns ; and therefore our doubts and errors, in the prose- 
 cution of so important an enquiry, may be the more excusable ; 
 while we march through such difficult paths without any guide 
 or direction. They may even prove useful, by exciting curiosity, 
 and destroying that implicit faith and security, which is the bane 
 of all reasoning and free enquiry. The discovery of defects in 
 the common philosophy, if any such there be, will not, I presume, 
 be a discouragement, but rather an incitement, as is usual, to 
 attempt something more full and satisfactory than has yet been 
 proposed to the public. 
 
 All reasonings concerning matter of fact seem to be founded 
 on the relation of Cause and Effect. By means of that relation 
 alone we can go beyond the evidence of our memory and senses. 
 If you were to ask a man, why he believes any matter of fact, 
 which is absent ; for instance, that his friend is in the country, or 
 
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 315 
 
 in France; he would give you a reason; and this reason would 
 be some other fact; as a letter received from him, or the know- 
 ledge of his former resolutions and promises. A man finding a 
 watch or any other machine in a desert island, would conclude 
 that there had once been men in that island. All our reasonings 
 concerning fact are of the same nature. And here it is constantly 
 supposed that there is a connexion beween the present fact 
 and that which is inferred from it. Were there nothing to bind 
 them together, the inference would be entirely precarious. The 
 hearing of an articulate voice and rational discourse in the dark 
 assures us of the presence of some person : Why ? because these 
 are the effects of the human make and fabric, and closely con- 
 nected with it. If we anatomize all the other reasonings of this 
 nature, we shall find that they are founded on the relation of 
 cause and effect, and that this relation is either near or remote, 
 direct or collateral. Heat and light are collateral effects of fire, 
 and the one effect may justly be inferred from the other. 
 
 If we would satisfy ourselves, therefore, concerning the nature 
 of that evidence, which assures us of matters of fact, we .must 
 enquire how we arrive at the knowledge of cause and effect. 
 
 I shall venture to affirm, as a general proposition, which ad- 
 mits of no exception, that the knowledge of this relation is not, 
 in any instance, attained by reasonings a priori; but arises en- 
 tirely from experience, when we find that any particular objects 
 are constantly conjoined with each other. Let an object be pre- 
 sented to a man of ever so strong natural reason and abilities; 
 if that object be entirely new to him, he will not be able, by the 
 most accurate examination of its sensible qualities, to discover 
 any of its causes or effects. Adam, though his rational faculties 
 be supposed, at the very first, entirely perfect, could not h 
 inferred from the fluidity and transparency of water that it 
 would suffocate him, or from the light and warmth of fire that 
 it would consume him. No object ever discovers, by the qualities 
 which appear to the senses, either the causes which produced it, 
 or the effects which will arise from it ; nor can our reason, unas- 
 sisted by experience, ever draw any inference concerning real 
 existence and matter of fact. 
 
3 i6 HUME 
 
 This proposition, that causes and effects are discoverable, not 
 by reason but by experience, will readily be admitted with regard 
 to such objects, as we remember to have once been altogether 
 unknown to us; since we must be conscious of the utter inability, 
 which we then lay under, of foretelling what would arise from 
 them. Present two smooth pieces of marble to a man who has no 
 tincture of natural philosophy; he will never discover that they 
 will adhere together in such a manner as to require great force 
 to separate them in a direct line, while they make so small a 
 resistance to a lateral pressure. Such events, as bear little analogy 
 to the common course of nature, are also readily confessed to be 
 known only by experience; nor does any man imagine that the 
 explosion of gunpowder, or the attraction of a loadstone, could 
 ever be discovered by arguments a priori. In like manner, when 
 an effect is supposed to depend upon an intricate machinery or 
 secret structure of parts, we make no difficulty in attributing all 
 our knowledge of it to experience. Who will assert that he can 
 give the ultimate reason, why milk or bread is proper nourish- 
 ment for a man, not for a lion or a tiger? 
 
 But the same truth may not appear, at first sight, to have the 
 same evidence with regard to events, which have become familiar 
 to us from our first appearance in the world, which bear a close 
 analogy to the whole course of nature, and which are supposed 
 to depend on the simple qualities of objects, without any secret 
 structure of parts. We are apt to imagine that we could dis- 
 cover these effects by the mere operation of our reason, without 
 experience. We fancy, that were we brought on a sudden into 
 this world, we could at first have inferred that one Billiard-ball 
 would communicate motion to another upon impulse; and that 
 we needed not to have waited for the event, in order to pronounce 
 with certainty concerning it. Such is the influence of custom, 
 that, where it is strongest, it not only covers our natural ignorance, 
 but even conceals itself, and seems not to take place, merely 
 because it is found in the highest degree. 
 
 But to convince us that^all the laws of nature^ and all the 
 operations of bodies without exception, are known only by ex- 
 perience, the following reflections may, perhaps, suffice. Were 
 
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 317 
 
 any object presented to us, and were we required to pronounce 
 concerning the effect, which will result from it, without consulting 
 past observation; after what manner, I beseech you, must the 
 mind proceed in this operation ? It must invent or imagine some 
 event, which it ascribes to the object as its effect; and it is plain 
 that this invention must be entirely arbitrary. The mind can 
 never possibly find the effect in the supposed cause, by the most 
 accurate scrutiny and examination. For the effect is totally 
 different from the cause, and consequently can never be dis- 
 covered in it. Motion in the second Billiard-ball is a quite dis- 
 tinct event from motion in the first; nor is there anything in the 
 one to suggest the smallest hint of the other. A stone or piece 
 of metal raised into the air, and left without any support, im- 
 mediately falls : but to consider the matter a priori, is there any- 
 thing we discover in this situation which can beget the idea of a 
 downward, rather than an upward, or any other motion, in the 
 stone or metal? 
 
 And as the first imagination or invention of a particular effect, 
 in all natural operations, is arbitrary, where we consult not ex- 
 perience ; so must we also esteem the supposed tie or connexion 
 between the cause and effect, which binds them together, and 
 renders it impossible that any other effect could result from the 
 operation of that cause. When I see, for instance, a Billiard- 
 ball moving in a straight line towards another; even suppose 
 motion in the second ball should by accident be suggested to 
 me, as the result of their contact or impulse; may I not conceive, 
 that a hundred different events might as well follow from that 
 cause ? May not both these balls remain at absolute rest ? May 
 not the first ball return in a straight line, or leap off from the 
 second in any line or direction ? All these suppositions are con- 
 sistent and conceivable. Why then should we give the prefer- 
 ence to one, which is no more consistent or conceivable than the 
 rest? All our reasonings a priori will never be able to show 
 us any foundation for this preference. 
 
 In a word, then, every effect is a distinct event from its cause. 
 It could not therefore, be discovered in the cause, and the first 
 invention or conception of ii, a priori, must be entirely arbitrary. 
 
3 i8 HUME 
 
 Ajji^ven after it is suggested, the conjunction of it with the 
 
 /cause must appear equally arbitrary; since there are always 
 many other effects, which, to reason, must seem fully as consistent 
 and natural. In vain, therefore, should we pretend to determine 
 any single event, or infer any cause or effect, without the assist- 
 ance of observation and experience. 
 
 Hence we may discover the reason why no philosopher, who 
 is rational and modest, has ever pretended to assign the ultimate 
 cause of any natural operation, or to show distinctly the action 
 of that power, which produces any single effect in the universe. 
 It is confessed, that the utmost effort of human reason is to 
 reduce the principles, productive of natural phenomena, to a 
 greater simplicity, and to resolve the many particular effects 
 into a few general causes, by means of reason ff^f mm analogy, 
 experience T and observation. But as to the causes of these gen- 
 eral causes, we should in vain attempt their discovery ; nor shall 
 we ever be able to satisfy ourselves, by any particular explica- 
 tion of them. These ultimate springs and principles are totally 
 shut up from human curiosity and enquiry. Elasticity, gravity, 
 cohesion of parts, communication of motion by impulse; these 
 are probably the ultimate causes and principles which we ever 
 discover in nature ; and we may esteem ourselves sufficiently 
 happy, if, by accurate enquiry and reasoning, we can trace up 
 the particular phenomena to, or near to, these general prin- 
 ciples. The most perfect philosophy of the natural kind only 
 staves off our ignorance a little longer : as perhaps the most per- 
 fect philosophy of the moral or metaphysical kind serves only 
 to discover larger portions of it. Thus the observation of human 
 blindness and weakness is the result of all philosophy, and meets 
 us at every turn, in spite of our endeavours to elude or avoid it. 
 
 Nor is geometry, when taken into the assistance of natural 
 philosophy, even able to remedy this defect, or lead us into the 
 knowledge of ultimate causes, by all that accuracy of reasoning 
 for which it is so justly celebrated. Every part of mixed mathe- 
 matics proceeds upon the supposition that certain laws are estab- 
 lished by nature in her operations; and abstract reasonings 
 are employed, either to assist experience in the discovery of these 
 
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 319 
 
 laws, or to determine their influence in particular instances, 
 where it depends upon any precise degree of distance and 
 quantity. Thus, it is a law of motion, discovered by experience, 
 that the moment or force of any body in motion is in the com- 
 pound ratio or proportion of its solid contents and its velocity; 
 and consequently, that a small force may remove the greatest 
 obstacle or raise the greatest weight, if, by any contrivance or 
 machinery, we. can increase the velocity of that force, so as to 
 make it an overmatch for its antagonist. Geometry assists Us 
 in the application of this law, by giving us the just dimensions 
 of all the parts and figures which can enter into any species of 
 machine ; but still the discovery of the law itself is owing merely 
 to experience, and all the abstract reasonings in the world could 
 never lead us one step towards the knowledge of it. When we 
 reason a priori, and consider merely any object or cause, as it 
 appears to the mind, independent of all observation, it never 
 could suggest to us the notion of any distinct object, such as its 
 effect; much less, show us the inseparable and inviolable con- 
 nexion between them. A man must be very sagacious "who could 
 discover by reasoning that crystal is the effect of heat, and ice 
 of cold, without being previously acquainted with the operation 
 of these qualities. 
 
 PART II 
 
 But we have not yet attained any tolerable satisfaction with 
 regard to the question first proposed. Each solution still gives 
 rise to a new question as difficult as the foregoing, and leads us 
 on to farther enquiries. When it is asked, What is the nature of 
 all our reasonings concerning matter of fact ? the proper answer 
 seems to be, that they are founded on the relation of cause and 
 effect. When again it is asked, What is the foundation of all our 
 reasonings and conclusions concerning that relation ? it may be 
 replied in one word, Experience. But if we still carry on our 
 sifting humour, and ask, What is the foundation of all conclusions 
 from experience ? this implies a new question, which may be of 
 more difficult solution and explication. Philosophers, that give 
 themselves airs of superior wisdom and sufficiency, have a hard 
 
320 HUME 
 
 task when they encounter persons of inquisitive dispositions, 
 who push them from every corner to which they retreat, and 
 who are sure at last to bring them to some dangerous dilemma. 
 The best expedient to prevent this confusion, is to be modest 
 in our pretentions; and even to discover the difficulty ourselves 
 before it is objected to us. By this means, we may make a kind 
 of merit of our very ignorance. 
 
 I shall content myself, in this section, with an- easy task, and 
 shall pretend only to give a negative answer to the question here 
 proposed^ I say then, that, even after we have experience of the 
 operations of cause and effect, our conclusions from that expe- 
 rience are not founded on reasoning, or any process of the under- 
 standing. This answer we must endeavour both to explain and 
 to defend. 
 
 It must certainly be allowed, that nature has kept us at a great 
 distance from all her secrets, and has afforded us only the know- 
 ledge of a few superficial qualities of objects; while she conceals 
 from us those powers and principles on which the influence 
 of those objects entirely depends. i'Our senses inform us of the 
 colour, weight, and consistence of bread; but neither sense nor 
 reason can ever inform us of those qualities which fit it for the 
 nourishment and support of a human body. Sight or feeling 
 conveys an idea of the actual motion of bodies; but as to that 
 wonderful force or power, which would carry on a moving body 
 for ever in a continued change of place, and which bodies never 
 lose but by communicating it to others; of this we cannot 
 form the most distant conception. But notwithstanding this 
 ignorance of natural powers and principles, we always presume, 
 when we see like sensible qualities, that they have like secret 
 powers, and expect that effects, similar to those which we have 
 experienced, will follow from them. If a body of ^ikg) colour and 
 consistence with that bread, which we have formerly eat, be 
 presented to us, we make no scruple of repeating the experiment, 
 and foresee, with certainty, lSe)iourishment and support. Now 
 ^ : ~ is a process of the rrv^ Bought, of wVnVVi T wrmlH will- 
 ingly know the foundation. '( It is allowed on aft hands that there 
 is no known connexion between the sensible qualities and the 
 
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 321 
 
 secret powers ; and consequently, that the mind is not led to form 
 such a conclusion concerning their constant and regular con- 
 junction, by anything which it knows of their nature. As to 
 past Experience, it can be allowed to give direct and certain in- 
 formation of those precise objects only, and that precise period 
 of time, which fell under its cognizance : but why this experience 
 should be extended to future times, and to other objects, which, 
 for aught we know, may be only in appearance similar; this is 
 the main question on which I would insist. The bread, which I 
 formerly eat, nourished me; that is, a body of such sensible 
 qualities was, at that time, endued with such secret powers: but 
 does it follow, that other bread must also nourish me at another 
 time, and that like sensible qualities must always be attended 
 with like secret powers? The consequence seems nowise neces- 
 sary. At least, it must be acknowledged that there is here a con- 
 sequence drawn by the mind ^ that there is a certain step taken; 
 a process of thought, and an inference, which wants to be ex- 
 plained. These two propositions are far from being the same, / 
 have found that such an object has always been attended with such 
 an effect, and / foresee, that other objects, which are, in appear- 
 ance, similar, will be attended with similar effects. I shall allow, 
 if you please, that the one proposition may justly be inferred 
 from the other: I know, in fact, that it always is inferred. But 
 Cif you insist that the inference is made by a chain of reasoning, 
 I desire you to produce that reasoning. ) The connexion between 
 these propositions is not intuitive. There is required a medium, 
 which may enable the mind to draw such an inference, if indeed 
 it be drawn by reasoning and argument. What that medium is, 
 I must confess, passes my comprehension; and it is incumbent 
 on these to produce it, who assert that it really exists, and is the 
 origin of all our conclusions concerning matter of fact. 
 
 This negative argument must certainly, in process of time, 
 become altogether convincing, if many penetrating and able 
 philosophers shall turn their enquiries this way and no one be 
 ever able to discover any connecting proposition or intermediate 
 step, which supports the understanding in this conclusion. But 
 as the question is yet new, every reader may not trust so far to 
 
322 HUME 
 
 his own penetration, as to conclude, because an argument es- 
 capes his enquiry, that therefore it does not really exist. For this 
 reason it may be requisite to venture upon a more difficult task; 
 and enumerating all the branches of human knowledge, endeav- 
 our to show that none of them can afford such an argument. 
 
 All reasonings may be divided into two kinds, namely, de- 
 monstrative reasoning, or that concerning relations of ideas, and 
 moral reasoning, or that concerning matter of fact and existence. 
 That there are no demonstrative arguments in the case seems 
 evident; since it implies no contradiction that the course of nature 
 may change, and that an object, seemingly like those which we 
 have experienced, may be attended with different or contrary 
 effects. May I not clearly and distinctly conceive that a body, 
 falling from the clouds, and which, in all other respects, resem- 
 bles snow, has yet the taste of salt or feeling of fire? Is there 
 any more intelligible proposition than to affirm, that all the trees 
 will flourish in December and January, and decay in May and 
 June? Now whatever is intelligible, and can be distinctly con- 
 ceived, implies no contradiction, and can never be proved false 
 by any demonstrative argument or abstract reasoning a priori. 
 
 If we be, therefore, engaged by arguments to put trust in past 
 experience, and make it the standard of our future judgement, 
 these arguments must be probable only, or such as regard matter 
 of fact and real existence, according to the division above men- 
 tioned. But that there is no argument of this kind, must appear, 
 if our explication of that species of reasoning be admitted as 
 solid and satisfactory. We have said, that all arguments concern- 
 ing existence are founded on the relation of cause and effect; 
 that our knowledge of that relation is derived entirely from 
 experience; and that all our experimental conclusions proceed 
 upon the supposition that the future will be conformable to the 
 past. To endeavour, therefore, the proof of this last supposi- 
 tion by probable arguments, or arguments regarding existence, 
 must be evidently going in a circle, and taking that for granted, 
 which is the very point in question. 
 
 In reality, all arguments from experience are founded on the 
 similarity which we discover among natural objects, and by which 
 
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 323 
 
 we are induced to expect effects similar to those which we have 
 found to follow from such objects. And though none but a fool 
 or madman will ever pretend to dispute the authority of experi- 
 ence, or to reject that .great guide of human life, it may surely 
 be allowed a philosopher to have so much curiosity at least as 
 to examine the principle of human nature, which gives this 
 mighty authority to experience, and makes us draw advantage 
 from that similarity which nature has placed among different 
 objects. From causes which appear similar we expect similar 
 ^effects. This is the sum of all our experimental conclusions. 
 Now it seems evident that, if this conclusion were formed by 
 reason, it would be as perfect at first, and upon one instance, 
 as after ever so long a course of experience. But the case is far 
 otherwise. Nothing so like as eggs; yet no one, on account of 
 this appearing similarity, expects the same taste and relish in all 
 of them. It is only after a long course of uniform experiments 
 in any kind, that we attain a firm reliance and security with 
 regard to a particular event. Now where is that process of rea- 
 soning which, from one instance, draws a conclusion, so different 
 from that which it infers from a hundred instances that are 
 nowise different from that single one ? This question I propose 
 as much for the sake of information, as with an intention of 
 raising difficulties. I cannot find, I cannot imagine any such 
 reasoning. But I keep my mind still open to instruction, if any 
 one will vouchsafe to bestow it on me. 
 
 Should it be said, that, from a number of uniform experiments, 
 we infer a connexion between the sensible qualities and the secret 
 powers; this, I must confess, seems the same difficulty, co .ched 
 in different terms. The question still recurs, on what process of 
 argument this inference is founded ? Where is the medium, the 
 interposing ideas, which join propositions so very wide of each 
 other? It is confessed that the colour, consistence, and other 
 sensible qualities of bread appear not, of themselves, to have 
 any connexion with the secret powers of nourishment and sup- 
 port. For otherwise we could infer these secret powers from 
 the first appearance of these sensible qualities, without the aid 
 of experience; contrary to the sentiment of all philosophers, and 
 
3 2 4 HUME 
 
 contrary to plain matter of fact. Here, then, is our natural state 
 of ignorance with regard to the powers and influence of all ob- 
 jects. How is this remedied by experience ? It only shows us a 
 number of uniform effects, resulting from certain objects, and 
 teaches us that those particular objects, at that particular time, 
 were endowed with such powers and forces. When a new object, 
 endowed with similar sensible qualities, is produced, we expect 
 similar powers and forces, and look for a jike effect. From a 
 body ofjikd colour and consistence with bread we expect (Jike 
 nourishment and support. But this surely is a step or progress 
 of the mind, which wants to be explained. When a man says, 
 / have found, in all past instances, such sensible qualities con- 
 joined with such secret powers, and when he says, Similar sen- 
 sible qualities will always be conjoined with similar secret powers, 
 he is not guilty of a tautology, nor are these propositions in any 
 respect the same. You say that the one proposition is an infer- 
 ence from the other. But you must confess that the inference 
 is not intuitive; neither is it demonstrative. Of what nature is 
 it, then ? To say it is experimental, is begging the question. For 
 all inferences from experience suppose, as their foundation, 
 that the future will resemble the past, and that similar powers 
 will be conjoined with similar sensible qualities. If there be any 
 suspicion that the course of nature may change, and that the past 
 may be no rule for the future, all experience becomes useless, 
 and can give rise to no inference or conclusion. It is impossible, 
 therefore, that any arguments from experience can prove this 
 resemblance of the past to the future ; since all these arguments 
 are founded on the supposition of that resemblance. Let the 
 course of things be allowed hitherto ever so regular; that alone, 
 without some new argument or inference, proves not that, for 
 the future, it will continue so. In vain do you pretend to have 
 learned the nature of bodies from your past experience. Their 
 secret nature, and consequently all their effects and influence, 
 may change, without any change in their sensible qualities. 
 This happens sometimes, and with regard to some objects: 
 why may it not happen always, and with regard to all objects ? 
 What logic, what process of argument secures you against this 
 
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 325 
 
 supposition? My practice, you say, refutes my doubts. But 
 you mistake the purport of my question. As an agent, I am 
 quite satisfied in the point; but as a philosopher, who has some 
 share of curiosity, I will not say scepticism, I want to learn the 
 foundation of this inference. No reading, no enquiry has yet 
 been able to remove my difficulty, or give me satisfaction in a 
 matter of such importance. Can I do better than propose the 
 difficulty to the public, even though, perhaps, I have small hopes 
 of obtaining a solution? We shall, at least, by this means, be 
 sensible of our ignorance, if we do not augment our knowledge. 
 
 I must confess that a man is guilty of unpardonable arro- 
 gance who concludes, because an argument has escaped his own 
 investigation, that therefore it does not really exist. I must 
 also confess that, though all the learned, for several ages, should 
 have employed themselves in fruitless search upon any subject, 
 it may still, perhaps, be rash to conclude positively that the 
 subject must, therefore, pass all human comprehension. Even 
 though we examine all the sources of our knowledge, and con- 
 clude them unfit for such a subject, there, may still remain a 
 suspicion, that the enumeration is not complete, or the examina- 
 tion not accurate. But with regard to the present subject, there 
 are some considerations which seem to remove all this accusa- 
 tion of arrogance or suspicion of mistake. 
 
 It is certain that the most ignorant and stupid peasants, nay 
 infants, nay even brute beasts, improve by experience, and 
 learn the qualities of natural objects, by observing the effects 
 which result from them. When a child has felt the sensation 
 of pain from touching the flame of a candle, he will be careful 
 not to put his hand near any candle; but will expect a similar 
 effect from a cause which is similar in its sensible qualities and 
 appearance. If you assert, therefore, that the understanding of 
 the child is led into this conclusion by any process of argument 
 or ratiocination, I may justly require you to produce that argu- 
 ment; nor have you any pretense to refuse so equitable a demand. 
 You cannot say that the argument is abstruse, and may possibly 
 escape your enquiry; since you confess that it is obvious to the 
 capacity of a mere infant. If you hesitate, therefore, a moment, 
 
326 HUME 
 
 or if, after reflection, you produce any intricate or profound 
 argument, you, in a manner, give up the question, and confess 
 that it is not reasoning which engages us to suppose the past 
 resembling the future, and to expect similar effects from causes 
 which are, to appearance, similar. This is the proposition 
 which I intended to enforce in the present section. If I be right, 
 I pretend not to have made any mighty discovery. And if I be 
 wrong, I must acknowledge myself to be indeed a very backward 
 scholar; since I cannot now discover an argument which, it seems, 
 was perfectly familiar to me long before I was out of my cradle. 
 
 SECTION VII. OF THE IDEA OF NECESSARY 
 CONNEXION 
 
 PART I 
 
 The great advantage of the mathematical sciences above the 
 moral consists in this, that the ideas of the former, being sensible, 
 are always clear and determinate, the smallest distinction be- 
 tween them is immediately perceptible, and the same terms are 
 still expressive of the same ideas, without ambiguity or variation. 
 An oval is never mistaken for a circle, nor an hyperbola for an 
 ellipsis. The isosceles and scalenum are distinguished by bounda- 
 ries more exact than vice and virtue, right and wrong. If any 
 term be denned in geometry, the mind readily, of itself, substi- 
 tutes, on all occasions, the definition for the term defined. Or 
 even when no definition is employed, the object itself may be 
 presented to the senses, and by that means be steadily and clearly 
 apprehended/ But the finer sentiments of the mind, the opera- 
 tions of the understanding, the various agitations of the passions, 
 though really in themselves distinct, easily escape us, when sur- 
 veyed by reflection; nor is it in our power to recall the original 
 object, as often as we have occasion to contemplate it. Am- 
 biguity, by this means, is gradually introduced into our reason- 
 ings; similar objects are readily taken to be the same; and the 
 conclusion becomes at last very wide of the premises. 
 
 One may safely,' however, affirm, that, if we consider these 
 
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 327 
 
 sciences in a proper light, their advantages and disadvantages 
 nearly compensate each other, and reduce both of them to a 
 state of equality. If the mind, with greater facility, retains the 
 ideas of geometry clear and determinate, it must carry on a 
 much longer and more intricate chain of reasoning, and com- 
 pare ideas much wider of each other, in order to reach the 
 abstruser truths of that science. And if moral ideas are apt, 
 without extreme care, to fall into obscurity and confusion, the 
 inferences are always much shorter in these disquisitions, and 
 the intermediate steps, which lead to the conclusion, much fewer 
 than in the sciences which treat of quantity and number. In 
 reality, there is scarcely a proposition in Euclid so simple, as 
 not to consist of more parts, than are to be found in any moral 
 reasoning which runs not into chimera and conceit. Where we 
 trace the principles of the human mind through a few steps, we 
 may be very well satisfied with our progress; considering how 
 soon nature throws a bar to all our enquiries concerning causes, 
 and reduces us to an acknowledgment of our ignorance. The 
 chief obstacle, therefore, to our improvement in the moral or 
 metaphysical sciences is the obscurity of the ideas, and ambiguity 
 of the terms. The principal difficulty in the mathematics is the 
 length of inferences and compass of thought, requisite to the 
 forming of any conclusion. And, perhaps, our progress in natural 
 philosophy is chiefly retarded by the want of proper experiments 
 and phenomena, which are often discovered by chance, and 
 cannot always be found, when requisite, even by the most dili- 
 gent and prudent enquiry. As moral philosophy seems hitherto 
 to have received less improvement than either geometry or 
 physics, we may conclude, that, if there be any difference in 
 this respect among these sciences, the difficulties, which obstruct 
 the progress of the former, require superior care and capacity 
 to be surmounted. 
 
 There are no ideas, which occur in metaphysics, more obscure 
 and uncertain, than those of power, force, energy or necessary 
 connexion, of which it is every moment necessary for us to treat 
 in all our disquisitions. We shall, therefore, endeavour, in this 
 section, to fix, if possible, the precise meaning of these terms, 
 
328 HUME 
 
 and thereby remove some part of that obscurity, which is so 
 much complained of in this species of philosophy. 
 
 It seems a proposition, which will not admit of much dispute, 
 that all our ideas are nothing but copies of our impressions, or, 
 in other words, that it is impossible for us to think of any thing, 
 which we have not antecedently felt, either by our external or 
 internal senses. I have endeavoured * to explain and prove this 
 proposition, and have expressed my hopes, that, by a proper 
 application of it, men may reach a greater clearness and precision 
 in philosophical reasonings, than what they have hitherto been 
 able to attain. Complex ideas may, perhaps, be well known by 
 definition, which is nothing but an enumeration of those parts 
 I or simple ideas, that compose them. But when we have pushed 
 up definitions to the most simple ideas, and find still some am- 
 'biguity and obscurity; what resource are we then possessed of? 
 By what invention can we throw light upon these ideas, and 
 render them altogether precise and determinate to our intellectual 
 view? Produce the impressions or original sentiments, from 
 which the ideas are copied. These impressions are all strong 
 and sensible. They admit not of ambiguity. They are not only 
 placed in a full light themselves, but may throw light on their 
 correspondent ideas, which lie in obscurity. And by this means, 
 we may, perhaps, attain a new microscope or species of optics, 
 by which, in the moral sciences, the most minute and most 
 simple ideas may be so enlarged as to fall readily under our 
 apprehension, and be equally known with the grossest and most 
 sensible ideas, that can be the object of our enquiry. 
 
 To be fully acquainted, therefore, with the idea of power or 
 necessary connexion, let us examine its impression ; and in order 
 to find the impression with greater certainty, let us search for 
 it in all the sources, from which it may possibly be derived. 
 
 When we look about us towards external objects, and consider 
 the operation of causes, we are never able, in a single instance, 
 to discover any power or necessary connexion; any quality, 
 which binds the effect to the cause, and renders the one an in- 
 fallible consequence of the other. We only find, that the one does 
 
 1 Section II, Of the Origin of Ideas. 
 
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 329 
 
 actually, in fact, follow the other. The impulse of one bill^rd- 
 ball is attended with motion in the second. This is the whole 
 that appears to the outward senses. The mind feels no sentiment 
 or inward impression from this succession of objects: conse- 
 quently there is not, in any single, particular instance of cause 
 and effect, any thing which can suggest the idea of power or 
 necessary connexion. 
 
 From the first appearance of an object, we never can con- 
 jecture what effect will result from it. But were the power or 
 energy of any cause discoverable by the mind, we could foresee 
 the effect, even without experience; and might, at first, pronounce 
 with certainty concerning it, by mere dint of thought and reason- 
 ing. 
 
 In reality, there is no part of matter, that does ever, by its 
 sensible qualities, discover any power or energy, or give us 
 ground to imagine, that it could produce any thing, or be fol- 
 lowed by any other object, which we could denominate its effect. 
 Solidity, extension, motion; these qualities are all complete in 
 themselves, and never point out any other event which may result 
 from them. The scenes of the universe are continually shifting, 
 and one object follows another in an uninterrupted succession; , 
 but the power of force, which actuates the whole machine, is \ 
 entirely concealed from us, and never discovers itself in any of 
 the sensible qualities of body. We know, that, in fact, heat is a 
 constant attendant of flame; but what is the connexion between 
 them, we have no room so much as to conjecture or imagine. 
 It is impossible, therefore, that the idea of power can be derived 
 from the contemplation of bodies, in single instances of their 
 operation; because no bodies ever discover any power, which 
 can be the original of this idea. l 
 
 Since, therefore, external objects as they appear to the senses, 
 give us no idea of power or necessary connexion, by their opera- 
 
 1 Mr. Locke, in his chapter of power, says, that, finding from experience, 
 that there are several new productions in matter, and concluding that there 
 must somewhere be a power capable of producing them, we arrive at last by 
 this reasoning at the idea of power. But no reasoning can ever give us a new, 
 original, simple idea; as this philosopher himself confesses. This, therefore, 
 can never be the origin of that idea. 
 
33 o HUME 
 
 tio^in particular instances, let us see, whether this idea be de- 
 rived from reflection on the operations of our own minds, and be 
 copied from any internal impression. It may be said, that we 
 are every moment conscious of internal power; while we feel, 
 that, by the simple command of our will, we can move the organs 
 of our body, or direct the faculties of our mind. An act of voli- 
 tion produces motion in our limbs, or raises a new idea in our 
 imagination. This influence of the will we know by conscious- 
 ness. Hence we acquire the idea of power or energy; and are 
 certain, that we ourselves and all other intelligent beings are 
 possessed of power. This idea, then, is an idea of reflection, 
 since it arises from reflecting on the operations of our own mind, 
 and on the command which is exercised by will, both over the 
 organs of the body and faculties of the soul. 
 
 We shall proceed to examine this pretension; and first with 
 regard to the influence of volition over the organs of the body. 
 This influence, we may observe, is a fact, which, like all other 
 natural events, can be known only by experience, and can never 
 be foreseen from any apparent energy or power in the cause, 
 which connects it with the effect, and renders the one an infallible 
 consequence of the other. The motion of our body follows upon 
 the command of our will. Of this we are every moment conscious. 
 But the means, by which this is effected; the energy, by which 
 the will performs so extraordinary an operation; of this we are 
 so far from being immediately conscious, that it must for ever 
 escape our most diligent enquiry. 
 
 For first, Is there any principle in all nature more mysterious 
 than the union of soul with body; by which a supposed spiritual 
 substance acquires such an influence over a material one, that 
 the most refined thought is able to actuate the grossest matter? 
 Were we empowered, by a secret wish, to remove mountains, 
 or control the planets in their orbit; this extensive authority 
 would not be more extraordinary, nor more beyond our com- 
 prehension. But if by consciousness we perceived any power or 
 energy in the will, we must know this power; we must know 
 its connexion with the effect; we must know the secret union 
 of soul and body, and the nature of both these substances; by 
 
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 331 
 
 which the one is able to operate, in so many instances, upon the 
 other. 
 
 Secondly, We are not able__tojnove all the organs of the body 
 with a likejmthojrity ; though we cannot assign any reason besides 
 experience, for so remarkable a difference between one and the 
 other. Why has the will an influence over the tongue and fingers, 
 not over the heart and liver ? This question would never embar- 
 rass us, were we conscious of a power in the former case, not in 
 the latter. We should then perceive, independent of experience, 
 why the authority of will over the organs of the body is circum- 
 scribed within such particular limits. Being in that case fully 
 acquainted with the power or force, by which it operates, we 
 should also know, why its influence reaches precisely to such 
 boundaries, and no farther. 
 
 A man, suddenly struck with palsy in the leg or arm, or who 
 has newly lost those members, frequently endeavours, at first, 
 to move them, and employ them in their usual offices. Here he 
 is as much conscious of power to command such limbs, as a man 
 in perfect health is conscious of power to actuate any member 
 which remains in its natural state and condition. But conscious- 
 ness never deceives. Consequently, neither in the one case nor 
 in the other, are we ever conscious of any power. We learn the 
 
 1 '^ f rnrn exp^riVnrp alone. And experience only 
 teaches us, how one event constantly follows another; without 
 instructing us in the secret connexion, which binds them together, 
 and renders them inseparable . 
 
 Thirdly, We learn from anatomy, that the immediate object 
 of jx>wer in voluntary motion, is not the member itself which 
 is moved, but certain muscles, and nerves, and animal spirits, 
 and, perhaps, something still more minute and more unknown, 
 through which the motion is successfully propagated, ere it 
 reach the member itself whose motion is the immediate object 
 of volition. Can there be a more certain proof that the power, 
 by which this whole operation is performed, so far from being 
 directly and fully known by an. inward sentiment or conscious- 
 ness, is, to the last degree, mysterious and unintelligible? Here 
 the mind wills a certain event; immediately another event, un- 
 
332 HUME 
 
 known to ourselves, and totally different from the one intended, 
 is produced. This event produces another, equally unknown: 
 till at last, through a long succession, the desired event is pro- 
 duced. But if the original power were felt, it must be known; 
 were it known, its effect also must be known; since all power 
 is relative to its effect. And vice versa, if the effect be not 
 known, the power cannot be known nor felt. How indeed can 
 we be conscious of a power to move our limbs, when we have 
 no such power; but only that to move certain animal spirits, 
 which, though they produce at last the motion of our limbs, yet 
 operate in such a manner as is wholly beyond our comprehension ? 
 
 We may, therefore, conclude from the whole, I hope, without 
 any temerity, though with assurance; that our idea of power is 
 not copied from any sentiment or consciousness of power within 
 ourselves, when we give rise to animal motion, or apply our limbs, 
 to their proper use and office. That their motion follows the com- 
 mand of the will is a matter of common experience, like other 
 natural events; but thejDOwer or^energy, by which this is effected, 
 like that in other natural events, is unknown ^.nd inconceivable. 1 
 
 Shall we then assert, that we are conscious of a power or. 
 energy in our own minds, when, by an act or command of our 
 will, we raise up a new idea, fix the mind to the contemplation 
 of it, turn it on all sides, and at last dismiss it for some other idea, 
 when we think that we have surveyed it with sufficient accuracy ? 
 I believe the same arguments will prove, that even this command 
 of the will gives us no real idea of force or energy. 
 
 1 It may be pretended, that the resistance which we meet with in bodies, 
 obliging us frequently to exert our force, and call up all our power, this gives 
 us the idea of force and power. It is this nisus, or strong endeavour, of which 
 we are conscious, that is the original impression from which this idea is cop- 
 ied. But, first, we attribute power to a vast number of objects, where we never 
 can suppose this resistance or exertion of force to take place; to the Supreme 
 Being, who never meets with any resistance; to the mind in its command over 
 its ideas and limbs, in common thinking and motion, where the effect follows 
 immediately upon the will, without any exertion or summoning up of force; to 
 inanimate matter, which is not capable of this sentiment. Secondly, This sen- 
 timent of an endeavour to overcome resistance has no known connexion with 
 any event: what follows it, we know by experience; but could not know it 
 a priori. It must, however, be confessed, that the animal nisus, which we expe- 
 rience, though it can afford no accurate precise idea of power, enters very much 
 into that vulgar, inaccurate idea, which is formed of it. 
 
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 333 
 
 First, It must be allowed, that, when we know a power, we 
 know that very circumstance in the cause, by which it is enabled 
 to produce the effect : for these are supposed to be synonymous. 
 We must, therefore, know both the cause and effect, and the 
 relation between them. But do we pretend to be acquainted 
 with the nature of the human soul and the nature of an idea, or 
 the aptitude of the one to produce the other ? This is a real crea- 
 tion; a production of something out of nothing; which implies 
 a power so great, that it may seem, at first sight, beyond the 
 reach of any being, less than infinite. At least it must be owned, 
 that such a power is not felt, nor known, nor even conceivable 
 by the mind. We only feel the event, namely, the existence of 
 an idea, consequent to a command of the will; but the manner, 
 in which this operation is performed, the power by which it is 
 produced, is entirely beyond our comprehension. 
 
 Secondly, The command of the mind over itself is limited, as 
 well as its command over the body; and these limits are not 
 known by reason, or any acquaintance with the nature of cause 
 and effect; but only by experience and observation, as in all 
 other natural events and in the operation of external objects. 
 Our authority over our sentiments and passions is much weaker 
 than that oyr_QiirJdeas ; and even the latter authority is circum- 
 scribed within very narrow boundaries. Will any one pretend 
 to assign the ultimate reason of these boundaries, or show why 
 the power is deficient in one case, not in another. 
 
 Thirdly, This self-command is very different at different 
 times. A man in health possesses more of it than one languish- 
 ing with sickness. We are more master of our thoughts in the 
 morning than in the evening; fasting, than after a full meal. 
 Can we give any reason for these variations, except experience ? 
 Where then is the power, of which we pretend to be conscious ? 
 Is there not here, either in a spiritual or material substance, or 
 both, some secret mechanism or structure of parts, upon which 
 the effect depends, and which, being entirely unknown to us, 
 renders the power or energy of the will equally unknown and 
 incomprehensible ? 
 
 Volition is surely an act of the mind, with which we are suffi- 
 
334 HUME 
 
 ciently acquainted. Reflect upon it. Consider it on all sides. 
 Do you find anything in it like this creative power, by which it 
 raises from nothing a new idea, and with a kind of Fiat, imitates 
 the omnipotence of its Maker, if I may be allowed so to speak, 
 who called forth into existence all the various scenes of nature ? 
 So far from being conscious of this energy in the will, it requires 
 as certain experience as that of which we are possessed, to con- 
 vince us that such extraordinary effects do ever result from a 
 simple act of volition. 
 
 The generality of mankind never find any difficulty in account- 
 ing for the more common and familiar operations of nature 
 such as the descent of heavy bodies, the growth of plants, the 
 generation of animals, or the nourishment of bodies by food. 
 But suppose, that, in all these cases, they perceive the very force 
 or energy of the cause, by which it is connected with its effect, 
 and is for ever infallible in its operation. They acquire, by long 
 habit, such a turn of mind, that, upon the appearance of the 
 cause, they immediately expect with assurance its usual attend- 
 ant, and hardly conceive it possible that any other event could 
 result from it. It is only on the discovery of extraordinary phae- 
 nomena, such as earthquakes, pestilence, and prodigies of any 
 kind, that they find themselves at a loss to assign a proper cause, 
 and to explain the manner in which the effect is produced by 
 it. It is usual for men, in such difficulties, to have recourse to 
 some invisible intelligent principle * as the immediate cause of that 
 event which surprises them; and which, they think, cannot be 
 accounted for from the common powers of nature. But philoso- 
 phers, who carry their scrutiny a little farther, immediately per- 
 ceive that, even in the most familiar events, the energy of the 
 cause is as unintelligible as in the most unusual, and that we 
 only learn by experience the frequent Conjunction of objects, 
 without being ever able to comprehend anything like Connexion 
 between them. Here, then, many philosophers think themselves 
 obliged by reason to have recourse, on all occasions, to the same 
 -principle, which the vulgar never appeal to but in cases that 
 appear miraculous and supernatural. They acknowledge mind 
 
 1 debs ai 
 
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 335 
 
 and intelligence to be, not only the ultimate and original cause 
 of all things, but the immediate and sole cause of every event 
 which appears in nature. They pretend that those objects 
 which are commonly denominated causes, are in reality nothing 
 but occasions; and that the true and direct principle of every 
 effect is not any power of force in nature, but a volition of the 
 Supreme Being, who wills that such particular objects should 
 for ever be conjoined with each other. Instead of saying that one 
 billiard-ball moves another by a force which it has derived from 
 the author of nature, it is the Deity himself, they say, who, by 
 a particular volition, moves the second ball, being determined 
 to this operation by the impulse of the first ball, in consequence 
 of those general laws which he has laid down to himself in the 
 government of the universe. But philosophers advancing still 
 in their inquiries, discover that, as we are totally ignorant of the 
 power on which depends the mutual operation of bodies, we are 
 no less ignorant of that power on which depends the operation 
 of mind on body, or of body on mind; nor are we able, either 
 from our senses or consciousness, to assign the ultimate principle 
 in one case more than in the other. The same ignorance, there- 
 fore, reduces them to the same conclusion. They assert that the 
 Deity is the immediate cause of the union between soul and 
 body; and that they are not the organs of sense, which, being 
 agitated by external objects, produce sensations in the mind; 
 but that it is a particular volition of our omnipotent Maker, 
 which excites such a sensation, in consequence of such a motion 
 in the organ. In like manner, it is not any energy in the will that 
 produces local motion in our members: it is God himself, who 
 is pleased to second our will, in itself impotent, and to command 
 that motion which we erroneously attribute to our own power and 
 efficacy. Nor do philosophers stop at this conclusion. They 
 sometimes extend the same inference to the mind itself, in "its 
 internal operations. Our mental vision or conception of ideas 
 is nothing but a revelation made to us by our Maker. When we 
 voluntarily turn our thoughts to any object, and raise up its 
 image in the fancy; it is not the will which creates that idea; it 
 is the universal Creator, who discovers it to the mind, and renders 
 it present to us. 
 
336 HUME 
 
 Thus, according to these philosophers, every thing is full of 
 God. Not content with the principle, that nothing exists but by 
 his will, that nothing possesses any power but by his concession, 
 they rob nature, and all created beings, of every power, in order 
 to render their dependence on the Deity still more sensible and 
 immediate. They consider not that, by this theory, they dimin- 
 ish, instead of magnifying, the grandeur of those attributes, 
 which they affect so much to celebrate. It argues surely more 
 power in the Deity to delegate a certain degree of power to in^ 
 ferior creatures, than to produce every thing by his own immedi- 
 ate volition. It argues more wisdom to contrive at first the fabric 
 of the world with such perfect foresight, that, of itself, and by its 
 proper operation, it may serve all the purposes of providence, 
 than if the great Creator were obliged every moment to adjust 
 its parts, and animate by his breath all the wheels of that stu- 
 pendous machine. 
 
 But if we would have a more philosophical confutation of this 
 theory, perhaps the two following reflections may suffice. 
 
 First, It seems to me, that this theory of the universal energy 
 and operation of the Supreme Being, is too bold ever to carry 
 conviction with it to a man, sufficiently apprized of the weakness 
 of human reason, and the narrow limits to which it is confined 
 in all its operations. Though the chain of arguments which con- 
 duct to it were ever so logical, there must arise a strong suspicion, 
 if not an absolute assurance, that it has carried us quite beyond 
 the reach of our faculties, when it leads to conclusions so extra- 
 ordinary, and so remote from common life and experience. We 
 are got into fairy land, long ere we have reached the last steps of 
 our theory; and there we have no reason to trust our common 
 methods of argument, or to think that our usual analogies and 
 probabilities have any authority. Our line is too short to fathom 
 such immense abysses. And however we may flatter ourselves 
 that we are guided, in every step which we take, by a kind of 
 verisimilitude and experience; we maybe assured that this fan- 
 cied experience has no authority when we thus apply it to sub- 
 jects that lie entirely out of the sphere of experience. But on this 
 we shall have occasion to touch afterwards. 
 
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 337 
 
 Secondly, I cannot perceive any force in the arguments on 
 which this theory is founded. We are ignorant, it is true, of 
 the manner in which bodies operate on each other: their force 
 or energy is entirely incomprehensible; but are we not equally 
 ignorant of the manner or force by which a mind, even the su- 
 preme mind, operates either on itself or on body? Whence, I 
 beseech you, do we acquire any idea of it ? We have no senti- 
 ment or consciousness of this power in ourselves. We^havejQQ 
 idea of the Supreme Being but what we learn from reflection on 
 our own faculties. Were our ignorance, therefore, a good reason 
 for rejecting any thing, we should be led into that principle of 
 denying all energy in the Supreme Being as much as in the gross- 
 est matter. We surely comprehend as little the operations of one 
 as of the other. Is it more difficult to conceive that motion may 
 arise from impulse than that it may arise from volition ? All we 
 know is our profound ignorance in both cases. 1 
 
 PART II 
 
 But to hasten to a conclusion of this argument, which is 
 already drawn out to too great a length : we have sought in vain 
 for an idea of power or necessary connexion in all the sources 
 
 1 I need not examine at length the vis inertiae which is so much talked of in 
 the new philosophy, and which is ascribed to matter. We find by experience, 
 that a body at rest or in motion continues for ever in its present state, till put 
 from it by some new cause; and that a body impelled takes as much motion 
 from the impelling body as it acquires itself. These _aje facts. When we call 
 this a vis inertiae, we only mark these facts* without pretending to have any 
 idea of the inert power; in the same manner as, when we talk of gravity, we 
 mean certain effects, without comprehending that act of power. It was never 
 tneSjjjgariing of SIR ISAAC NEWTON to rob second causes of all force or energy; 
 thougfi some of his followers have endeavoured to establish that theory upon his 
 authority. On the contrary, that great philosopher had recourse to an ethereal 
 active fluid to explain his universal attraction; though he was so cautious and 
 modest as to allow, that it was a mere hypothesis, not to be insisted on, without 
 more experiments. I must confess, that there is something in the fate of opinions 
 a little extraordinary. DESCARTES insinuated that doctrine of the universal 
 and sole efficacy of the Deity, without insisting on it. MALEBRANCHE and 
 other CARTESIANS made it .the foundation of all their philosophy. It had, how- 
 ever, no authority in England. LOCKE, CLARKE, and CUDWORTH never so 
 much as take notice of it, but suppose all along, that matter has a real, though 
 subordinate and derived power. By what means has it become so prevalent 
 among our modern metaphysicians ? 
 
338 HUME 
 
 from which we could suppose it to be derived. It appears that, 
 in single instances of the operation of bodies, we never can, by 
 our utmost scrutiny, discover any thing but one event following 
 another, without being able to comprehend any force or power 
 by which the cause operates, or any connexion between it and its 
 supposed effect. The same difficulty occurs in contemplating 
 the operations of mind on body; where we observe the motion 
 of the latter to follow upon the volition of the former, but are 
 not able to observe or conceive the tie which binds together the 
 motion and volition, or the energy by which the mind produces 
 this effect. The authority of the will over its own faculties and 
 ideas is not a whit more comprehensible: So that, upon the 
 whole, there appears not, throughout all nature, any one instance 
 of connexion which is conceivable by us. All events seem en- 
 tirely loose and separate. One event follows another; but we 
 never can observe any tie between them. They seem conjoined, 
 but never connected. And as we can have no idea of any thing 
 which never appeared to our outward sense or inward sentiment, 
 the necessary conclusion seems to be, that we have no idea of 
 connexion or power at all, and that these words are absolutely, 
 without any meaning, when employed either in philosophical 
 reasonings or common life. 
 
 But there still remains one method of avoiding this conclu- 
 sion, and one source which we have not yet examined. When 
 any natural object or event is presented, it is impossible for us, 
 by any sagacity or penetration, to discover, or even conjecture,, 
 without experience, what event will result from it, or to carry 
 our foresight beyond that object which is immediately present to 
 the memory and senses. Even after one instance or experiment, 
 where we have observed a particular event to follow upon an- 
 other, we are not entitled to form a general rule, or foretell what 
 will happen in like cases; it being justly esteemed an unpardon- 
 able temerity to judge of the whole course of nature from one 
 single experiment, however accurate or certain. But when one 
 particular species of event has always, in all instances, been 
 conjoined with another, we make no longer any scruple of fore- 
 telling one upon the appearance of the other, and of employing 
 
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 339 
 
 that reasoning which can alone assure us of any matter of fact 
 or existence. We then call the one object, Cause; the other, 
 Effect. We suppose that there is some connexion between them; 
 some power in the one, by which it infallibly produces the other, 
 and operates with the greatest certainty and strongest necessity. 
 
 It appears, then, that this idea of anecessary Connexion among 
 events arises from a number of similar instances, which occur, of 
 the constant conjunction of these events; nor can that idea ever 
 be suggested by any one of these instances, surveyed in all pos- 
 sible lights and positions. But there is nothing in a number of 
 instances, different from every single instance, which is supposed 
 to be exactly similar; except only, that after a repetition of similar 
 instances, the mind is carried by habit, upon the appearance of 
 one event, to expect its usual attendant, and to believe that it 
 will exist. This connexion, therefore, which we feel in the mind, 
 this customary transition of the imagination from one object to 
 its usual attendant, is the sentiment or impression from which 
 we form the idea of power or necessary connexion. Nothing 
 farther is in the case. Contemplate the subject on all sides; 
 you will never find any other origin of that idea. This is the sole 
 difference between one instance, from which we can never receive 
 the idea of connexion, and a number of similar instances, by 
 which it is suggested. The first time a man saw the communica- 
 tion of motion by impulse, as by the shock of two billiard-balls, 
 he could not pronounce that the one event was connected: but 
 only that it was conjoined with the other. After he has observed 
 several instances of this nature, he then pronounces them to be 
 connected. What alteration has happened to give rise to this new 
 idea of connexion? Nothing but that he now feels these events 
 to be connected in his imagination, and can readily foretell the- 
 existence of one from the appearance of the other. When we say, 
 therefore, that one object is connected with another, we mean 
 only that they have acquired a connexion in our thought, and 
 give rise to this inference, by which they become proofs of each 
 other's existence: a conclusion which is somewhat extraordi- 
 nary, but which seems founded on sufficient evidence. Nor will 
 its evidence be weakened by any general diffidence of the un- 
 
340 HUME 
 
 derstanding, or sceptical suspicion concerning every conclusion 
 which is new and extraordinary. No conclusions can be more 
 agreeable to scepticism than such as make discoveries concern- 
 ing the weakness and narrow limits of human reason and ca- 
 pacity. 
 
 And what stronger instance can be produced of the surprising 
 ignorance and weakness of the understanding than the present ? 
 For surely, if there be any relation among objects which it im- 
 ports to us to know perfectly, it is that of cause and effect. On 
 this are founded all our reasonings concerning matter of fact or 
 existence. By means of it alone we attain any assurance concern- 
 ing objects which are removed from the present testimony of our 
 memory and senses. The only immediate utility of all sciences, 
 is to teach us, how to control and regulate future events by 
 their causes. Our thoughts and enquiries are, therefore, every 
 moment, employed about this relation ; yet so imperfect are the 
 ideas which we form concerning it, that it is impossible to give 
 any just definition of cause, except what is drawn from some- 
 thing extraneous and foreign to it. Similar objects are always 
 conjoined with similar. Of this we have experience. Suitably to 
 this experience, therefore, we may define a cause to be an object, 
 followed by another, and where all the objects, similar to the first, 
 are followed by objects similar to the second. Or in other words 
 where, if the first object had not been, the second never had existed. 
 The appearance of a cause always conveys the mind, by a cus- 
 tomary transition, to the idea of the effect. Of this also we have 
 experience. We may, therefore, suitably to this experience, form 
 another definition of cause, and call it, an object followed by an- 
 other, and whose appearance always conveys the thought to that 
 other. But though both these definitions be drawn from circum- 
 stances foreign to the cause, we cannot remedy this inconvenience, 
 or attain any more perfect definition, which may point out that 
 circumstance in the cause, which gives it a connexion with its 
 effect. We have no idea of this connexion; nor even any distinct 
 notion what it is we desire to know, when we endeavour at a 
 conception of it. We say, for instance, that the vibration of this 
 string is the cause of this particular sound. But what do we 
 
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 341 
 
 mean by that affirmation ? We either mean, that this vibration 
 is followed by this sound, and that all similar vibrations have been 
 followed by similar sounds; or, that this vibration is followed by 
 this sound, and that upon the appearance of one the mind antici- 
 pates the senses, and forms immediately an idea of the other. We 
 may consider the relation of cause and effect in either of these 
 two lights; but beyond these, we have no idea of it. 1 
 
 To recapitulate, therefore, the reasonings of this section: 
 Every idea is copied from some preceding impression or senti- 
 ment ; and where we cannot find any impression, we may be cer- 
 tain that there is no idea, jn all single instances of the operation 
 of bodies or minds, there is nothing that produces any impression, 
 nor consequently can suggest any idea of power or necessary 
 connexion. But when many uniform instances appear, and the 
 "same object is always followed by the same event ; we then begin 
 to entertain the notion of cause and connexion. We then feel 
 a new sentiment or impression, to wit, a customary connexion in 
 the thought or imagination between one object and its usual 
 attendant; and this sentiment is the original of that idea which 
 we seek for. For as this idea arises from a number of similar in- 
 stances, and not from any single instance, it must arise from that 
 circumstance, in which the number of instances differ from every 
 individual instance. But this customary connexion or transition 
 of the imagination is the only circumstance in which they differ. 
 In every other particular they are alike. The first instance which 
 we saw of motion communicated by the shock of two billiard- 
 balls (to return to this obvious illustration) is exactly similar 
 to any instance that may, at present, occur to us; except only, 
 that we could not, at first, infer one event from the other; which 
 we are enabled to do at present, after so long a course of uniform 
 experience. I know not whether the reader will readily apprehend 
 this reasoning. I am afraid that, should I multiply words about 
 it, or throw it into a greater variety of lights, it would only become 
 more obscure and intricate. In all abstract reasonings there is 
 
 1 According to these explications and definitions, the idea of power is rela- 
 tive as much as that of cause ; and both have a reference to an effect, or some 
 other event constantly conjoined with the former. . . . 
 
342 HUME 
 
 one point of view which, if we can happily hit, we shall go farther 
 towards illustrating the subject than by all the eloquence in the 
 world. This point of view we should endeavour to reach, and 
 reserve the flowers of rhetoric for subjects which are more 
 adapted to them. 
 
 SECTION XII. OF THE ACADEMICAL OR SCEP- 
 TICAL PHILOSOPHY 
 
 PART III 
 
 There is, indeed, a more mitigated scepticism or academical 
 philosophy, which may be both durable and useful, and which 
 may, in part, be the result of this Pyrrhonism, or excessive scep- 
 ticism, when its undistinguished doubts are, in some measure, 
 corrected by common sense and reflection. The greater part of 
 mankind are naturally apt to be affirmative and dogmatical in 
 their opinions ; and while they see objects only on one side, and 
 have no idea of any counterpoising argument, they throw them- 
 selves precipitately into the principles, to which they are in- 
 clined; nor have they any indulgence for those who entertain 
 opposite sentiments. To hesitate or balance perplexes their un- 
 derstanding, checks their passion, and suspends their action. 
 They are, therefore, impatient till they escape from a state, 
 which to them is so uneasy : and they think, that they could 
 never remove themselves far enough from it, by the violence of 
 their affirmations and obstinacy of their belief. But could such 
 dogmatical reasoners become sensible of the strange infirmities 
 of human understanding, even in its most perfect state, and 
 when most accurate and cautious in its determinations; such a 
 reflection would naturally inspire them with more modesty and 
 reserve, and diminish their fond . opinion of themselves, and 
 their prejudice against antagonists. The illiterate may reflect 
 on the disposition of the learned, who, amidst all the advan- 
 tages of study and reflection, are commonly still diffident in 
 their determinations : and if any of the learned be inclined, from 
 their natural temper, to haughtiness and obstinacy, a small 
 tincture of Pyrrhonism might abate their pride, by showing 
 
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 343 
 
 them, that the few advantages, which they may have attained 
 over their fellows, are but inconsiderable, if compared with the 
 universal perplexity and confusion, which is inherent in human 
 nature. In general, there is a degree of doubt, and caution, and 
 modesty, which, in all kinds of scrutiny and decision, ought for 
 ever to accompany a just reasoner. 
 
 Another species of mitigated scepticism which may be of ad- 
 vantage to mankind, and which may be the natural result of 
 the Pyrrhonian doubts and scruples, is the limitation of our 
 enquiries to such subjects as are best adapted to the narrow 
 capacity of human understanding. The imagination of man 
 is naturally sublime, delighted with whatever is remote and ex- 
 traordinary, and running, without control, into the most distant 
 parts of space and time in order to avoid the objects, which 
 custom has rendered too familiar to it. A correct judgment 
 observes a contrary method, and avoiding all distant and high 
 enquiries, confines itself to common life, and to such subjects 
 as fall under daily practice and experience; leaving the more 
 sublime topics to the embellishment of poets and orators, or to 
 the arts of priests and politicians. To bring us to so salutary a 
 determination, nothing can be more serviceable, than to be once 
 thoroughly convinced of the force of the Pyrrhonian doubt, and 
 of the impossibility, that anything, but the strong power of 
 natural instinct, could free us from it. Those who have a pro- 
 pensity to philosophy, will still continue their researches ; because 
 they reflect, that, besides the immediate pleasure, attending 
 such an occupation, philosophical decisions are nothing but the 
 reflections of common life, methodized and corrected. But they 
 will never be tempted to go beyond common life, so long as they 
 consider the imperfection of those faculties which they employ, 
 their narrow reach, and their inaccurate operations. While we 
 cannot give a satisfactory reason, why we believe, after a thou- 
 sand experiments, that a stone will fall, or fire burn; can we 
 ever satisfy ourselves concerning any determination, which we 
 may form, with regard to the origin of worlds, and the situation 
 of nature, from, and to eternity ? 
 
 This narrow limitation, indeed, of our enquiries, is, in every 
 
\i 
 
 344 HUME 
 
 respect, so reasonable, that it suffices to make the slightest ex- 
 amination into the natural powers of the human mind and to 
 compare them with their objects, in order to recommend it to 
 us. We shall then find what are the proper subjects of science 
 and enquiry. 
 
 It__geemsjp me, that tJaannly ojjjects oLthe abstract science 
 or^of demonstration arer qu\ntit/ ancknu^ol^r, and that all at- 
 tempts to extend this more perfect specie's of knowledge beyond 
 these bounds are mere sophistry and illusion. As the compo- 
 nent parts of quantity and number are entirely similar, their 
 relations become intricate and involved; and nothing can be 
 more curious, as well as useful, than to trace, by a variety of 
 mediums their equality or inequality, through their different 
 appearances. But as all other ideas are clearly distinct and 
 different from each other, we can never advance farther, by our 
 utmost scrutiny, than to observe this diversity, and, by an ob- 
 vious reflection, pronounce one thing not to be another. Or 
 if there be any difficulty in these decisions, it proceeds entirely 
 from the undeterminate meaning of words, which is corrected 
 by juster definitions. That the square of the hypothenuse is equal 
 to the squares of the other two sides, cannot be known, let the 
 terms be ever so exactly defined, without a train of reasoning 
 and enquiry. But to convince us of this proposition, that where 
 there is no property, there can be no injustice, it is only necessary 
 to define the terms, and explain injustice to be a violation of 
 property. This proposition is, indeed, nothing but a more im- 
 perfect definition. It is the same case with all those pretended 
 syllogistical reasonings, which may be found in every other 
 branch of learning, except the sciences of quantity and number ; 
 and these may safely, I think, be pronounced the only proper 
 objects of knowledge and demonstration. 
 
 All other enquiries of men regard only matter of fact and 
 existence; and these are evidently incapable of demonstration. 
 Whatever is may not be. No negation of a fact can involve a 
 contradiction. The non-existence of any being, without excep- 
 tion, is as clear and distinct an idea as its existence. The pro- 
 position, which affirms it not to be, however false, is no less 
 
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING 345 
 
 conceivable and intelligible, than that which affirms it to be. 
 The case is different with the sciences, properly so called. Every 
 proposition, which is not true, is there confused and unintel- 
 ligible. That the cube root of 64 is equal to the half of 10, is a 
 false proposition, and can never be distinctly conceived. But 
 that Caesar, or the angel Gabriel, or any being never existed, 
 may be a false proposition, but still is perfectly conceivable, and 
 implies no contradiction. 
 
 The existence, therefore, of any being can only be proved by 
 arguments from its cause or its effect ; and these arguments are 
 founded entirely on experience. If we reason a priori, anything 
 may appear able to produce anything. The falling of a pebble 
 may, for aught we know, extinguish the sun; or the wish of a 
 man control the planets in their orbits. It is only experience, 
 which teaches us the nature and bounds of cause and effect, and 
 enables us to infer the existence of one object from that of an- 
 other. * ^Jnich is the foundation of moral reasoning,) which forms 
 the greater part of human knowledge, and is the source of all 
 human action and behaviour. 
 
 Moral reasonings are either concerning particular or general 
 facts. All deliberations in life regard the former; as also all 
 disquisitions in history, chronology, geography, and astronomy. 
 
 The sciences, which treat of general facts, are politics, natural 
 philosophy, physic, chemistry, &c. where the qualities, causes 
 and effects of a whole species of objects are enquired into. 
 
 Divinity or Theology, as it proves the existence of a Deity, 
 and the immortality of souls, is composed partly of reasonings 
 concerning particular, partly concerning general facts. It has a 
 foundation in reason, so far as it is supported by experience. 
 But its best and most solid foundation is faith and divine reve- 
 lation. 
 
 Morals and criticism are not so properly objects of the under- 
 standing as of taste and sentiment. Beauty, whether moral or 
 
 1 That impious maxim of the ancient philosophy, Ex nihilo, nihil fit, by which 
 the creation of matter was excluded, ceases to be a maxim, according to this 
 philosophy. Not only the will of the supreme Being may create matter; but, 
 for aught we know a priori, the will of any other being might create it, or any 
 other cause, that the most whimsical imagination can assign. 
 
34 6 HUME 
 
 natural, is felt, more properly than perceived. Or if we reason 
 concerning it, and endeavour to fix its standard, we regard a 
 new fact, to wit, the general tastes of mankind, or some such 
 fact, which may be the object of reasoning and enquiry. 
 
 When we run over libraries, persuaded of these principles, 
 what havoc must we make ? If we take in our hand any volume ; 
 of divinity or school metaphysics, for instance ; let us ask, Does 
 it contain any abstract reasoning concerning quantity or number ? 
 No. Does it contain any experimental reasoning concerning 
 matter of fact and existence ? No. Commit it then to the flames : 
 for it can contain nothing but sophistry and illusion. 
 
ETIENNE BONNOT DE GONDILLAG 
 
 (1715-1780) 
 
 TREATISE ON SENSATIONS 
 
 Translated from the French # by 
 FREDERICK C. DE SUMICHRAST 
 
 CHAPTER I. THE FIRST NOTIONS OF A MAN 
 POSSESSING THE SENSE OF SMELL ONLY 
 
 i. THE notions of our statue being limited to the sense of 
 smell, can include odours only. It cannot have any conception 
 of extent, of form, of anything external to itself, or to its sensa- 
 tions, any more than it can have of colour, sound or taste. 
 
 2. If we offer the statue a rose, it will be, in its relation to us, 
 a statue which smells a rose; but in relation to itself, it will be 
 merely the scent itself of the flower. 
 
 Therefore, according to the objects which act upon its organ, 
 it will be scent of rose, of carnation, of jasmine, of violet. In a 
 word, odours are, in this respect, merely modifications of the 
 statue itself or modes of being; and it is not capable of believ- 
 ing itself aught else, since these are the only sensations it can 
 feel. 
 
 . 3. Let those philosophers to whom it is so evident that every- 
 thing is material, put themselves for a moment in the place of 
 the statue, and let them reflect how they could suspect that there 
 exists anything resembling what we call matter. 
 
 4. We may then already be convinced that it is sufficient to 
 increase or to diminish the number of the senses to cause us to 
 come to conclusions wholly different from those which are at 
 present so natural to us, and our statue, limited to the sense of 
 smell, may thus enable us to comprehend somewhat the class 
 of beings whose notions are the most restricted. 
 
 * From Traite des Sensations, Paris and London, 1754. 
 
348 CONDILLAC 
 
 CHAPTER II. OF THE OPERATIONS OF THE 
 MIND IN A MAN LIMITED TO THE SENSE OF 
 SMELL, AND OF THE FACT THAT THE DIF- 
 FERENT DEGREES OF PLEASURE AND OF PAIN 
 CONSTITUTE THE PRINCIPLE OF THESE OP- 
 ERATIONS. 
 
 1. With the first odour the capacity for feeling of our statue 
 is wholly taken up by the impression made upon its organ. I 
 call this attention. 
 
 2. From that moment it begins to enjoy or to suffer: for if the 
 power of feeling is wholly devoted to a pleasant odour, enjoy- 
 ment is the result ; and if it be wholly devoted to an unpleasant 
 odour, suffering results. 
 
 3. But our statue has yet no idea of the different changes it 
 may experience. Therefore it is well; or it is not well, without 
 the desire to be better. Suffering is no more capable of exciting 
 in the statue a longing for an enjoyment of which it has no know- 
 ledge, than enjoyment is capable of making it fear an ill of which 
 it is equally ignorant. Consequently, no matter how disagree- 
 able the first sensation may be, even to the point of wounding 
 the organ and of being a violent pain, it cannot cause desire. 
 
 While suffering with us is always accompanied by the desire 
 not to suffer, it cannot be so with the statue. Pain creates that 
 desire in us only because the condition of non-suffering is al- 
 ready known to us. The habit we have contracted of looking 
 upon pain as a thing we have been without and of which we may 
 be freed, is the cause that the moment we suffer we immediately 
 desire not to suffer, and this condition is inseparable from a 
 state of suffering. 
 
 But the statue which, at the first moment, is conscious of its 
 feeling only through the very pain it experiences, does not know 
 whether it can cease to be a statue and become something 
 else, or cease to exist. It has, as yet, no conception of change, 
 of succession or of duration. Therefore it exists without having 
 the power to form a desire. 
 
TREATISE ON SENSATIONS 349 
 
 4. Once it has observed that it is capable of ceasing to be 
 what it is, in order to become once more what it was before, we 
 shall see its desires spring from a condition of pain, which it 
 will compare with a condition of pleasure recalled to it by mem- 
 ory. Thus it is that pleasure and pain are the sole principle 
 which, determining all the operations of its soul, will gradually 
 raise it to all the knowledge of which it is capable; and in order 
 to determine the progress of which it is susceptible, it will suffice 
 to observe the pleasure it will have to desire, the pains it will 
 have to fear, and the influence of either according to circum- 
 stances. 
 
 5. Supposing the statue to have no remembrance of the 
 changes it has undergone, then on every occasion of a change 
 it would believe itself to be conscious of sensation for the first 
 time: whole years would be swallowed up in each present mo- 
 ment. Therefore by ever confining its attention to a single mode 
 of being, it would never reckon two together, and would never 
 note their relations to each other : it would enjoy or suffer, with- 
 out yet knowing desire or fear. 
 
 6. But the odour it smells does not, so soon as the odoriferous 
 object ceases to act upon its organ, become wholly lost to the 
 statue. The attention it bestowed upon it still retains the odour, 
 and there remains a more or less strong impression of that odour 
 in proportion as the attention itself has been more or less active. 
 That is memory. 
 
 7. When, therefore, our statue is a new odour, there is still 
 present to it the odour that it was the moment before. Its power 
 of feeling is divided between memory and the sense of smell, 
 the former of these faculties being attentive to the past sensation, 
 while the latter is attentive to the present sensation. 
 
 8. Thus there are in the statue two modes of feeling, differ- 
 ing only in this, that the one is concerned with a present sensa- 
 tion and the other with a sensation no longer existent, but the 
 impression of which still remains. Unaware of the fact that there 
 are objects which act upon it, unaware even of the fact that it 
 possesses an organ, the statue ordinarily distinguishes between 
 the remembrance of a sensation and a present sensation merely 
 
350 CONDILLAC 
 
 by dimly feeling what it has been and feeling strongly what it is 
 at the moment. 
 
 9. I say ordinarily, because remembrance will not always be 
 a faint sentiment, nor sensation a lively one. For every time 
 that memory recalls very strongly these states of being, while, 
 on the contrary, the organ itself receives but slight impressions, 
 the consciousness of a present sensation will be much less vivid 
 than the remembrance of a sensation which has ceased to be. 
 
 10. As, therefore, one odour is present to the sense of smell 
 through the impression made by an odoriferous body upon the 
 organ itself, so is another odour present in the memory, because 
 the impression made by another odoriferous body continues in 
 the brain, to which the organ of smell has transmitted it. Pass- 
 ing thus through two states of being, the statue feels that it is 
 no longer what it has been : the knowledge of this change causes 
 it to refer the first state to a different moment from that in which 
 it experiences the second state, and this it is which causes the 
 statue to make a distinction between existing in one way and 
 having existed in another way. 
 
 11. The statue is active in relation to one of its two modes of 
 feeling, and passive in relation to the other. It is active when it 
 remembers a sensation, because it has within itself the cause 
 which brings about that recollection, that is memory. It is 
 passive at the moment when it experiences a sensation, because 
 the cause which produces it is external to the statue itself, that 
 is, it lies in the odoriferous bodies which act upon its sense of 
 smell. 
 
 12. But, unable even to suspect the action upon itself of ob- 
 jects external to it, it cannot distinguish between a cause within 
 itself and a cause outside of itself. As far as the statue is con- 
 cerned all the modifications of its state of being appear to it due 
 to itself, and whether it experiences a sensation or merely recalls 
 one, it is never aware of aught save that it is or has been in such 
 and such a state of being. It cannot, therefore, observe any 
 difference between the condition in which it is itself active or 
 that in which it is wholly passive. 
 
 13. Nevertheless the more numerous the occasions for the 
 
TREATISE ON SENSATIONS 351 
 
 exercise of the memory the more readily will the memory act. 
 And it is in this way that the statue will acquire the habit of re- 
 calling without an effort the changes through which it has passed, 
 and of dividing its attention between what it has been and what 
 it is. For habit is merely the facility of repeating what one has 
 done, and that facility is acquired by the reiteration of the ac- 
 tions. 
 
 14. If, after having repeatedly smelled a rose and a carnation, 
 the statue once more smells a rose, the passive attention, acting 
 by the sense of smell, will be wholly given up to the present odour 
 of the rose, and the active attention, which acts through the 
 memory, will be divided between the remains of the scents of 
 the rose and of the carnation. Now these two states of being 
 cannot share the capacity for feeling without comparing them- 
 selves one with the other, for comparing is nothing else than 
 bestowing one's attention upon two ideas at the same time. 
 
 15. From the moment that comparison exists, judgment exists. 
 Our statue cannot at one and the same time be attentive to the 
 scent of the rose and that of the carnation, without perceiving 
 that the one is not the same as the other, and it cannot be atten- 
 tive to the odour of a rose which it smells and to that of a rose 
 which it has previously smelled without perceiving that they are a 
 similar modification. Judgment, therefore, is simply the percep- 
 tion of the relation between two ideas which are being compared. 
 
 1 6. As the comparisons and conclusions become more fre- 
 quent the statue acquires greater facility in making them. It 
 contracts therefore the habit of comparing and judging. Con- 
 sequently it will be sufficient to make it smell other odours in 
 order to cause it to make additional comparisons, come to ad- 
 ditional conclusions and contract new habits. 
 
 17. The first sensation it experiences causes no surprise to 
 the statue, for it is as yet unaccustomed to form any kind of 
 judgment, nor is it surprised when, on smelling successively 
 different odours, it perceives each but for a moment. Under 
 these conditions it does not abide by any conclusion it has formed, 
 and the more the statue changes the more it feels itself naturally 
 inclined to change. 
 
352 CONDILLAC 
 
 Nor will it feel any more surprise if we lead it, by unnotice- 
 able gradations, from the habit of believing itself one odour to 
 the conclusion that it is another odour, for the statue changes 
 without having the power of noticing the change. 
 
 But it cannot fail to be surprised if it passes suddenly from a 
 condition to which it was accustomed to a totally different state 
 of which it had no previous conception. 
 
 1 8. This amazement causes it to feel more distinctly the differ- 
 ences between its modes of being. The more abrupt the change 
 from one to the other the greater the astonishment of the statue, 
 and. the more is it struck by the contrast between the pleasures 
 and the pains which mark these changes. Its attention, excited 
 by pains which are more keenly felt, applies itself with greater 
 acuteness to the sensations which succeed each other. It there- 
 fore compares them more carefully; it judges more accurately 
 their relations to each other. Amazement consequently increases 
 the activity of the operations of its mind. But, because it is 
 by bringing out a more marked opposition between feelings of 
 pleasure and feelings of pain that amazement thus increases 
 activity of mind, it follows that it is always pleasure and pain 
 which are the primary motive cause of its faculties. 
 
 19. If each successive odour acts with equal force upon the 
 statue's attention, the memory will remember them in the order 
 in which they followed each other, and they will by this means 
 become connected one with another. 
 
 If the series is numerous, the impression made by the most 
 recent odours, being the most recent, will be the strongest; the 
 impression made by the first in order will be imperceptibly 
 weakened, then disappear altogether, and these sensations will 
 be as if they had never been. 
 
 But if there be any which have acted but slightly upon the 
 attention, they will leave no impression behind them and will 
 be forgotten as soon as they have been perceived. 
 
 Finally the impressions which will have more vividly struck 
 the attention, will be more vividly recalled, and will so strongly 
 engage it that they will be capable of making it forget the others. 
 
 20. Memory therefore is a series of ideas forming a sort of 
 
TREATISE ON SENSATIONS 353 
 
 chain. It is this connection which enables us to pass from one 
 idea to another, and to recall the most distant. Therefore we 
 remember an idea that we had some time since only because 
 we recall, more or less rapidly, the intermediary ideas. 
 
 21. In the case of the second sensation our statue experiences, 
 it has not to make any selection: it can remember but the first 
 sensation. It will merely act more or less vigorously, according 
 as it is inclined thereto by the intensity of the pleasure or the 
 pain. 
 
 But when there has been a succession of changes, the statue, 
 having a great number in remembrance, will be inclined to re- 
 call preferably those which can best contribute to its happiness, 
 passing rapidly over the others or dwelling on them only in spite 
 of itself. 
 
 To make this truth fully plain it is necessary to know the 
 different degrees of pain and of pleasure of which we are suscep- 
 tible, and the comparisons which may be drawn between them. 
 
 22. Pleasures and pains are of two kinds. Some pertain more 
 especially to the body: they are of the senses; others are within 
 the memory and all the faculties of the soul: these are intellectual 
 or spiritual. But this is a difference which the statue is incapable 
 of observing. 
 
 This inability preserves it from an error which we find it diffi- 
 cult to avoid, seeing that these sentiments do not differ one from 
 another as greatly as we imagine. In truth, they are all intellect- 
 ual and spiritual, since it is the soul only which is capable of 
 feeling. It may be said also that they are all likewise in a certain 
 sense sensible or corporeal, since the body is their sole occasion- 
 ing cause. It is only with reference to their relation to the facul- 
 ties of the body or those of the soul that we divide them into two 
 kinds. 
 
 23. Pleasure may dimmish or increase by degrees; when it 
 diminishes, it tends to disappear, and it vanishes with the sensa- 
 tion. On the contrary, when it increases, it may attain to pain, 
 because the impression becomes too strong for the organ. Thus 
 there are two extreme points in pleasure: the weaker is that in 
 which sensation begins with the least power; it is the first step 
 
354 CONDILLAC 
 
 from nothingness to feeling; the strongest is that when the sen- 
 sation cannot augment without ceasing to be agreeable; it is the 
 condition nearest to pain. 
 
 The impression of a faint pleasure seems to become concen- 
 trated in the organ which transmits it to the soul. But when it 
 has a certain amount of intensity, it is accompanied by an emo- 
 tion which spreads throughout the whole body. This emotion is 
 a fact which our experience places beyond the shadow of a doubt. 
 
 Pain, likewise, may increase or diminish. When it increases 
 it tends to the total destruction of the animal ; but, when it dimin- 
 ishes, it does not, like pleasure, tend to the privation of all sense 
 of feeling; on the contrary, the moment which puts an end to it 
 is always pleasant. 
 
 24. It is impossible to discover among these various degrees 
 a state of indifference; with the first sensation, no matter how 
 weak it may be, the statue is necessarily ill or well. But once it 
 shall have experienced successively the sharpest pains and the 
 liveliest pleasures, it will consider indifferent, or will cease to 
 regard as agreeable or disagreeable, the weaker sensations which 
 it will have compared with the stronger. 
 
 We may therefore suppose that there are for it divers degrees, 
 agreeable or disagreeable, in the modes of being, and others 
 which it regards as indifferent. 
 
 25. Whenever it is ill or less well, it recalls its past sensations, 
 compares them with its actual condition, and feels that it is 
 important that it should become once more what it was formerly. 
 Hence springs the need or knowledge of a state of well-being, 
 which it concludes that it needs to enjoy. 
 
 Therefore it knows that it has wants only because it compares 
 the pain from which it is suffering with the pleasures it has en- 
 joyed. Destroy in it the remembrance of these pleasures, and 
 the statue will be ill, without suspecting that it has any want, 
 for, in order to feel the need of anything, one must be acquainted 
 with it. Now, in the above supposititious case, the statue is not 
 acquainted with any other state of being than that in which it 
 finds itself. But once it recalls a happier state, its existing con- 
 dition at once causes it to feel the want of that state. Thus it is 
 
TREATISE ON SENSATIONS 355 
 
 that pleasure and pain will always determine the action of its 
 faculties. 
 
 26. The want experienced by the statue may be caused by a 
 genuine pain, by a disagreeable sensation, by a sensation less 
 agreeable than those which have preceded it, or, finally, by a 
 state of languor, in which it is reduced to one of those states of 
 being which it has become accustomed to consider indifferent. 
 
 If its need is caused by an odour which gives it lively pain, the 
 need appropriates the power of feeling almost wholly, and leaves 
 only strength enough to the memory to remind the statue that it 
 has not always been so ill. Then it becomes incapable of compar- 
 ing the various states of being through which it has passed ; it is 
 unable to judge which is the most agreeable. All that it desires 
 is to emerge from that condition in order to enjoy another, no 
 matter what it may be; and if it were acquainted with a means 
 of escaping from its suffering, it would apply all its faculties to 
 the making use of that means. It is thus that in serious sickness 
 we cease to desire the pleasures we formerly ardently sought, and 
 think only of regaining our health. 
 
 When it is a less agreeable sensation which gives rise to the 
 want, there are two cases to be distinguished: either the plea- 
 sures with which the statue compares that sensation have been 
 lively, and accompanied by the strongest emotions, or else they 
 have been less powerful and have scarcely moved it. 
 
 In the former case, the past happiness is recalled with the 
 greater force the more it differs from the immediate sensation. 
 The emotion which accompanied it is partly reproduced, and 
 drawing to itself almost the totality of the power of feeling, does 
 not permit the agreeable feelings which have preceded or fol- 
 lowed it to be noticed. The statue, then, experiencing no dis- 
 traction, compares more accurately that happiness with its pre- 
 sent state; it judges more truly how greatly that state differs 
 from the former, and, as it endeavours to depict it to itself in 
 the most vivid manner, the privation of that happiness gives rise 
 to a more insistent need, and the possession of it becomes a 
 much more necessary welfare. 
 
 In the second case, on the contrary, that state of happiness 
 
356 CONDILLAC 
 
 is recalled with much less intensity: other pleasures divide the 
 attention; the advantages it offers are less felt; it reproduces but 
 little emotion or none at all. Therefore the statue is less inter- 
 ested in its return, and does not apply its faculties to it so ear- 
 nestly. 
 
 Finally, if the need springs from one of those sensations which 
 it has got into the habit of considering indifferent, it lives at first 
 without feeling either pain or pleasure. But this state, compared 
 with the happy situations in which it has found itself, soon 
 becomes disagreeable to the statue, and the pain it then expe- 
 riences is what we term ennui. Meanwhile the ennui lasts, in- 
 creases, becomes unbearable, and determines powerfully all the 
 faculties towards that happiness of which the statue feels the 
 loss. 
 
 This ennui may be as crushing as pain, in which case the statue 
 has no other thought than to get rid of it, and turns, without 
 selecting, to all the conditions of being which are fitted to cause 
 it to disappear. But if we diminish the burden of ennui the 
 condition of the statue will be less unhappy, it will feel less im- 
 periously the need of being rid of it, it will be in a condition to 
 devote its attention to all the agreeable sentiments of which it 
 has any recollection, and it is the pleasure, the remembrance of 
 which it recalls in the liveliest manner, which will draw all the 
 faculties to itself. 
 
 27. There are then two principles which determine the degree 
 of action of its faculties : on the one hand, the lively remembrance 
 of a well-being it has lost ; on the other, the small amount of plea- 
 sure in the sensation actually felt, or else the pain by which it is 
 accompanied. 
 
 When these two principles unite, the statue makes a greater 
 effort to recall what it has ceased to be, and it feels less what it 
 actually is. For its power of feeling being necessarily limited, 
 memory cannot attract a part of this power to itself without 
 leaving less to the sense of smell. Even if the action of this faculty 
 should be so strong as to appropriate to itself the whole power 
 of feeling, the statue will not observe any more the impression 
 made upon its organ, and it will recall its former condition in so 
 
TREATISE ON SENSATIONS 357 
 
 lively a manner that it will believe itself to be still in that con- 
 dition. 
 
 28. But if its actual condition is the happiest it knows, then 
 pleasure induces it to enjoy it by preference. There no longer 
 exists any cause capable of inducing the mind to act strongly 
 enough to overbear the sense of smell to the extent of destroying 
 the feeling in it. Pleasure, on the contrary, concentrates at least 
 the greater part of the attention or of the capacity for feeling 
 upon the present sensation; and if the statue even yet recalls 
 what it has been, it is because the comparison with its present 
 state causes it to enjoy its happiness still more. 
 
 29. Here then are two of the effects of memory: the one is a 
 sensation which is recalled as strongly as if it were acting upon 
 the organ itself; the other is a sensation of which naught remains 
 but a faint recollection. 
 
 There are thus in the action of this faculty of memory two 
 degrees which we can establish: the weaker is that in which it 
 causes pleasure in the past to but a slight extent ; the other that 
 in which it causes enjoyment of that past just as if the past 
 were the present. 
 
 It is called memory when it recalls things as past only, and it 
 is called imagination when it recalls them so strongly that they 
 appear to be present. Imagination, therefore, is found in our 
 statue, as well as memory, and these two faculties differ in degree 
 only. Memory is the beginning of an imagination which is yet 
 still weak; imagination is memory itself, which has attained the 
 fullest power of which it is susceptible. 
 
 Having distinguished two forms of attention in the statue, 
 the one acting through the sense of smell, the other through the 
 memory, we may now note a third, which acts through the im- 
 agination, and the peculiarity of which is to stay the impressions 
 of the senses in order to substitute in their place a feeling inde- 
 pendent of external objects. 
 
 30. Nevertheless when the statue imagines a sensation which 
 it no longer is experiencing, and when it recalls it in as lively a 
 manner as if it were still experiencing it, it is not aware that there 
 exists in itself a cause which produces the same effect as would 
 
358 CONDILLAC 
 
 be produced by an odoriferous body acting upon its organ of 
 smell. It cannot therefore distinguish, as we do, between im- 
 agination and feeling. 
 
 31. But we may presume that the imagination of the statue 
 will be more active than is our own. Its power of feeling is wholly 
 concentrated on a single kind of sensation; the whole force of 
 its faculties is devoted solely to odours; nothing can distract 
 it. But we are divided between a multitude of sensations and 
 ideas, which are constantly assailing us, and, devoting to our 
 imagination but a part of our powers, we imagine but feebly. 
 Besides, our senses, continually on their guard against our im- 
 agination, warn us constantly of the objects we seek to imagine, 
 while, on the contrary, the imagination of our statue is entirely 
 free to act. Therefore it recalls trustingly an odour which it has 
 enjoyed, and it does actually enjoy it, just as if its sense of smell 
 were affected by it. Finally the ease with which we can put aside 
 things offensive to us, and seek those the enjoyment of which 
 we prize, further contributes to render our imagination lazy. 
 But since our statue can escape from a disagreeable feeling 
 only by imagining strongly a condition of being in which it takes 
 pleasure, its imagination is more exercised by it, and must pro- 
 duce effects out of the power of our own to attain. 
 
 32. Yet there is one case in which the action of the statue's 
 imagination is wholly suspended, and even also that of memory, 
 It is when a sensation is so vivid as to fulfil completely the power 
 of feeling. Then the statue is wholly passive. Pleasure becomes 
 for it a species of intoxication, in which there is scarcely any 
 enjoyment, and pain a crushing in which it scarcely suffers. 
 
 33. But the moment the sensation loses some degrees of its 
 intensity, forthwith the faculties of the soul become active once 
 more, and need becomes once again the cause which determines 
 their action. 
 
 34. The modifications which must give the greatest pleasure 
 to the statue are not always those it has most recently expe- 
 rienced. They may occur in the beginning or in the middle of 
 the chain of its knowledge, or at the end. Imagination, there- 
 fore, is frequently compelled to pass rapidly over intermediate 
 
TREATISE ON SENSATIONS 359 
 
 ideas. It brings nearer the more distant, changes the order they 
 were in in the memory, and out of them forms an entirely new 
 chain. 
 
 The connection of ideas does not then follow the same order 
 in its faculties. The more that order it derives from the imagi- 
 nation becomes familiar to the statue, the less will it preserve 
 that order which memory has furnished it with. Thus ideas are 
 connected in innumerable different ways, and often the statue 
 will recall less the order in which it experienced its sensations 
 than the order in which it has imagined them to be* 
 
 35. All these series, however, are formed only through the 
 comparisons which have been made between each preceding 
 and each succeeding link in the chain, and through the conclu- 
 sions which have been drawn concerning their relation to each 
 other. This connection becomes stronger in proportion as the 
 use of the faculties strengthens the habits of recollection and 
 imagination; and this is the reason why we possess the surpris- 
 ing advantage of recognizing sensations we have already expe- 
 rienced. 
 
 36. For, indeed, if we cause our statue to smell an odour with 
 which it is familiar, it is a state of being which it has compared, 
 which it has drawn a conclusion from, and which it has linked 
 to some of the parts of the series which its memory is in the habit 
 of reviewing. That is why it concludes that the state in which 
 it finds itself is the same as that in which it formerly found itself. 
 But an odour which it has not yet smelled does not come within 
 this case, and therefore must strike it as quite new. 
 
 37. It is needless to point out that when it recognizes a state 
 of being it does so without being able to account for the fact. 
 The cause of a phenomenon of this sort is so difficult to make 
 out that all men who do not know how to observe and analyze 
 what is going on within them, are unable to perceive it. 
 
 38. But when the statue goes on a long time without thinking 
 of a state of being, what becomes, during that period, of the idea 
 it has formed of that state? When, later, that idea is recalled 
 by the memory, whence does it spring ? Is it in the soul or in the 
 body that it has been preserved ? In neither. 
 
360 CONDILLAC 
 
 It is not in the soul, since an alteration in the brain is sufficient 
 to destroy the power of recalling the idea. 
 
 It is not in the body. The physical cause alone could be pre- 
 served there, and for that it would be necessary to suppose that 
 the brain would remain precisely in the condition into which it 
 was brought by the sensation which the statue remembers. But 
 how can that supposition be maintained in view of the con- 
 tinual movements of the mind? How can it be maintained, 
 especially when one considers the innumerable ideas stored in 
 the memory? The phenomenon may be explained in a much 
 simpler way. 
 
 I experience a given sensation when there occurs in one of my 
 organs a movement which is transmitted to the brain. If the 
 same movement originates in the brain and is transmitted to the 
 organ, I believe I experience a sensation which I do not really 
 experience: it is an illusion. But if the movement begins and 
 ends in the brain, I remember the sensation I have experienced. 
 
 When the statue recalls an idea, then, it is not because the 
 idea has been preserved in the body or in the soul; it is because 
 the movement, which is the physical and occasioning cause of 
 it, is reproduced in the brain. This, however, is not the place to 
 venture on conjectures concerning the mechanism of memory. 
 We preserve the remembrance of our sensations, we recall them, 
 although we have been a long time without thinking of them. 
 To bring this about it is sufficient that they should have strongly 
 impressed themselves upon us, or that we should have expe-' 
 rienced them repeatedly. These facts authorize me to suppose 
 that our statue, organized as we are, is, like ourselves, able to 
 remember. 
 
 39. We conclude then that it has contracted several habits: 
 the habit of bestowing its attention; the habit of remember- 
 ing; a third habit of comparing; a fourth of judging; a fifth of 
 imagining; and finally one of recognizing. 
 
 40. The same causes which have produced habits are alone 
 capable of maintaining them. I mean that habits will become 
 lost unless they are renewed by actions reiterated from time to 
 time. In that case our statue will recall neither the comparisons 
 
TREATISE ON SENSATIONS 361 
 
 between states of being which it has made, nor the conclusions 
 it has drawn from them, and it will experience a state of being 
 for the third or fourth time without being able to recognize it. 
 
 41. But we may ourselves help to maintain the practice of its 
 memory and of all its faculties. It is sufficient to induce it, by 
 different degrees of pleasure or of pain, to cling- to its state of 
 being or to escape from it. The skill with which we make use of 
 its sensations will enable us to fortify and extend more and more 
 its habits. There is even ground for conjecturing that the statue 
 will distinguish, in a succession of odours, differences which we 
 fail to note. Compelled to apply all its faculties to a single sort 
 of sensation, may not the statue exhibit more discernment therein 
 than we do? 
 
 42. Yet the relations which its judgment can discover are 
 very few in number. It merely is aware that one state of being 
 is the same as a state in which it has already been, or else that it 
 is different; that the one is agreeable, the other disagreeable, 
 and both in a greater or less degree. 
 
 But will it distinguish between several odours smelled to- 
 gether? That is a power of discernment which we ourselves 
 acquire only by long practice, and even then within very narrow 
 limits, for there is no one who can recognize by the sense of 
 smell all the components of a sachet. Now it seems tb me that 
 any mingling of odours must be a sachet to our statue. 
 
 It is the knowledge of odoriferous bodies, as we shall see later, 
 -which has taught us to recognize two odours within a third. 
 After having smelled in turn a rose and a jonquil, we smelled 
 them together, and thus learned that the sensation caused in 
 us by these two flowers together is composed of two other sen- 
 sations. But if the odours be multiplied we can distinguish 
 those only which are strongest, and even then we shall not dis- 
 tinguish these if the mingling has been made so skilfully that 
 no one odour shall prevail over the others. In such a case they 
 appear to pass one into another, like colours ground up to- 
 gether; they unite and mingle so thoroughly that not one of them 
 remains what it originally was, and of many odours one alone 
 remains. 
 
362 CONDILLAC 
 
 So if our statue, at the first moment of its existence, smells 
 two odours, it will not conclude that it is at one and the same 
 time in two states of being. But let us suppose that having 
 learned to know them separately, it smells them together: will 
 it recognize them ? That does not appear probable to me. For, 
 unaware that they come from two different bodies, nothing can 
 lead it to suspect that the sensation it experiences is the sum of 
 two other sensations. Indeed, if neither prevail, it would be the 
 same with us, and if one of the two is fainter, it will merely alter 
 the stronger and they will together seem to be a simple state of 
 being. To convince ourselves of this we need only smell odours 
 which we are not accustomed to refer to separate bodies; I am 
 persuaded that we would not venture to affirm whether they are 
 one odour or several odours. And this is precisely the case of the 
 statue. 
 
 Therefore the statue acquires discernment only through the 
 attention it gives at one and the same time to a state of being 
 which it is actually experiencing and to another state which it 
 has previously experienced. Thus its judgments do not bear 
 upon two odours smelled at one and the same time, but upon 
 successive sensations. 
 
 CHAPTER III. OF THE DESIRES, THE PASSIONS, 
 LOVE, HATE, HOPE, FEAR AND WILL IN A 
 MAN LIMITED TO THE SENSE OF SMELL 
 
 1. We have just seen the character of the various kinds of 
 wants, and that they are the causes of the degrees of intensity 
 with which the faculties of the soul attach themselves to a state 
 of well-being, the enjoyment of which becomes a necessity. Now 
 desire is nothing else than the action of these faculties, when 
 these are directed towards the thing of which we feel the need. 
 
 2. Therefore every desire presupposes that the statue conceives 
 of a condition better than the one wherein it finds itself at the 
 time, and that it compares the difference between two states of 
 being succeeding each other. If they differ but little, its suffering 
 is less, in consequence of the deprivation of the mode of being 
 
TREATISE ON SENSATIONS 363 
 
 that it desires; and I give the name of discomfort or slight dis- 
 content, to the feeling it experiences. In such a case both the 
 action of its faculties is less energetic and its desires are less 
 strong. On the contrary, it suffers more if the difference be great, 
 and I give the name of anxiety, or even of torment, to the im- 
 pression it then experiences. Therefore the difference between 
 these two states is the measure of the desire, and it is sufficient 
 to remember by how much the action of the faculties gains or 
 loses in intensity in order to know all the degrees of desires. 
 
 3. For instance, they are never so violent as when the facul- 
 ties of the statue tend to a state of well-being the loss of which 
 causes an anxiety the greater in proportion to the difference of 
 that wished-for state from the existing state. In such cases, 
 nothing can distract the statue's attention from that condition: 
 it recalls it, it imagines it; all its faculties are concentrated upon 
 it. Consequently the more it desires it, the more it accustoms 
 itself to desire. In a word, it feels for it what we call a passion, 
 that is, a desire which prevents our feeling any other, or at least 
 is the most powerful one. 
 
 4. This passion persists so long as the state which is the object 
 of it, continues to appear the most agreeable, and so long as the 
 absence of that state .is accompanied by the same anxieties. But 
 it is replaced by another passion, if the statue has occasion to 
 become accustomed to another condition to which it will give 
 the preference. 
 
 5. From the moment that enjoyment, suffering, need, desire, 
 passion exist in the statue, love and hate exist likewise. For the 
 statue loves a pleasant odour, which it enjoys or desires. It hates 
 a disagreeable odour, which causes it to suffer; finally, it likes 
 less a less agreeable odour, which it would fain exchange for 
 another. In proof of this, it is sufficient to note that to love is 
 always synonymous with to enjoy or to desire, and that to hate 
 is similarly synonymous with suffering from discomfort, from 
 discontent, in the presence of some object. 
 
 6. As there may be several gradations in the amount of anxiety 
 caused by the loss of a pleasant object, and in the discontent 
 caused by the sight of an odious one, so may similar gradations 
 
364 CONDILLAC 
 
 be noted in love and in hate. Indeed we even have words to 
 denote them: such as taste, inclination, tendency, aloofness, 
 repugnance, disgust. Although these x words cannot be substi- 
 tuted for the words love, hate, none the less the feelings they 
 express are but the beginnings of these passions; they differ from 
 these merely in being weaker. 
 
 7. For the rest, the love of which our statue is capable, is but 
 love of self, or that which bears the name of self-love. For, in 
 truth, it loves but itself, seeing that the things it loves are but 
 its own states of being. 
 
 8. Hope and fear spring from the same principle as love and 
 hate. 
 
 Our statue, being in the habit of experiencing agreeable or 
 disagreeable sensations, is led to conclude that it can experience 
 further sensations of the same sort. If this conclusion combines 
 with a sensation which pleases, it produces hope; and if it 
 combines with a sensation that displeases, it causes fear. Foi, 
 in fact, to hope is to flatter one's self that one shall possess a 
 certain good; to fear, is to be threatened by an evil. It may be 
 noted that hope and fear contribute to increase desire. It is from 
 the conflict of these two feelings that the most violent passions 
 arise. 
 
 9. The remembrance that it has satisfied some of its desires 
 causes our statue to hope all the more to be able to satisfy other 
 desires, that, unaware of the obstacles which stand in the way, 
 it does not see why what it desires should not be within its power, 
 like what it has desired on other occasions. It is true that the 
 statue cannot make sure of this, but, on the other hand, it has 
 no proof of the contrary. If it more particularly remembers that 
 the same desire which it feels has formerly been followed by 
 enjoyment, it will believe itself capable of realizing it in propor- 
 tion as its want of it becomes greater. Thus two causes will con- 
 tribute to inspire it with confidence: the knowledge that it has 
 satisfied such a desire before, and its interest in satisfying it 
 once again. Henceforth the statue will not be satisfied with de- 
 siring; it will will; for by will is meant an absolute desire, such 
 that we consider that a thing we desire is in our power. 
 
TREATISE ON SENSATIONS 365 
 
 CHAPTER IV. OF THE IDEAS OF A MAN LIMITED 
 TO THE SENSE OF SMELL 
 
 1. Our statue cannot pass successively through various states 
 of being, some pleasant and some unpleasant to it, without ob- 
 serving that it passes alternately from a condition of pleasure 
 to a condition of pain, or vice versa. In the former are content 
 and enjoyment; in the latter, discontent and suffering. There- 
 fore it preserves in its memory the notions of content and dis- 
 content common to several modes of being; and it need then 
 only consider its sensations in these two connections in order to 
 divide them into two classes, in each of which it will learn to 
 distinguish degrees, in proportion as it practices the habit of 
 distinguishing. 
 
 2. To abstract, is to separate one idea from another to which 
 it appears to be naturally united. Now when the statue ob- 
 serves that the notions of content and discontent are common 
 to several of the modifications of its state of being, it acquires 
 the habit of separating them from some particular modification, 
 from which it had not at first distinguished them. It therefore 
 forms abstract notions of them, and these notions become gen- 
 eral, because they are common to several of its states of being. 
 
 3. But when it smells in succession several flowers of the same 
 species, it will always experience one and the same sensation, 
 and will have but one particular notion of the subject. For in- 
 stance, the perfume of the violet cannot be, for the statue, an 
 abstract notion, common to several flowers, since the statue is 
 not aware of the existence of violets. Therefore it is only the 
 particular notion of a state of being which is proper to the statue. 
 Consequently, all its abstractions are confined to more or less 
 agreeable modifications, and to others more or less disagreeable. 
 
 4. So long as the statue had particular notions only, it could 
 desire only such and such a state of being. But so soon as it has 
 abstract notions, its desires, its love, hate, hope, fear, will, may 
 have for their object pleasure or pain in general. 
 
 However, that love of well-being in general comes about only 
 
366 CONDILLAC 
 
 when, among the notions which memory recalls confusedly to 
 the statue, the latter does not yet distinguish what will give it 
 most pleasure ; but, so soon as it believes it does perceive it, all 
 its desires tend towards a particular mode of being. 
 
 5. The statue being able to distinguish the states of being it 
 experiences has, therefore, some notion of numbers; it has the 
 notion of unity every time it experiences a sensation, or remem- 
 bers one ; and it has the notion of two or of three of these, as often 
 as its memory recalls to it two or three distinct states of being, 
 for it then takes cognizance of itself as having been an odour, or 
 as having been two or three odours in succession. 
 
 6. It cannot distinguish between two odours which it smells 
 at one and the same time. Therefore the sense of smell can, of 
 itself, give it only the notion of unity, and the notion of number 
 can come to it from memory alone. 
 
 7. But the statue will not carry its knowledge of this subject 
 very far. Like a child which has not learned to count, the statue 
 will be unable to determine the number of its notions if the series 
 of them be at all large. 
 
 It seems to me that, in order to ascertain the largest number 
 it is capable of knowing accurately, it is sufficient to consider 
 how far we ourselves could count with the sign one. When the 
 amounts formed by the repetition of this sign cannot be grasped 
 at once and distinctly, we have the right to conclude that the 
 precise notions of the numbers which these amounts contain, 
 cannot be acquired by memory alone. 
 
 Now, when I say "one and one," I have the notion of two; 
 and when I say "one, one and one," I have the notion of three. 
 But if I had but this single sign with which to express ten, fifteen, 
 twenty, I could never determine the notions of these numbers, 
 for I could not make sure, through memory alone, that I had 
 repeated one as many times as each of these numbers requires 
 that I should repeat it. It even seems to me that I could not, by 
 this means, attain to the notion of four, and that I would need 
 to have recourse to some artifice in order to be sure that I had 
 repeated the unit sign neither too seldom nor too often. I would 
 say, for instance, "one, one" and then "one, one," but that 
 
TREATISE ON SENSATIONS 367 
 
 proves that memory does not distinctly grasp four unities at 
 once. Beyond three, therefore, it presents but an indefinite 
 multitude. Those who believe that memory alone can extend 
 our notions farther, will use another number instead of three. 
 It is sufficient, for the purposes of my argument, that there be 
 some number beyond which the memory shows us merely a 
 thoroughly vague multitude. It is the art of signs which has en- * 
 abled us to carry light farther. But however vast the numbers 
 we can make out, there always remains a multitude which it 
 is not possible to determine, and which is therefore called the 
 infinite, but which would have been more accurately called 
 the indefinite. That single change in terms would have avoided 
 many errors. 
 
 We may therefore conclude that our statue will grasp distinctly 
 three only of these states of being. Beyond that it will perceive 
 a multitude, which will be to it what the pretended notion of the 
 infinite is to us. And indeed the statue will have more reason 
 to be mistaken in this respect, for it is incapable of the reason- 
 ings which would clear its error away. Therefore it will see the 
 infinite in that multitude exactly as if it were indeed the infinite. 
 
 Finally we note that its idea of unity is an abstract notion, for 
 it feels all its states of being have this general relation that each 
 is distinct from any other. 
 
 8. Possessing particular notions and general notions it con- 
 sequently is acquainted with two kinds of truth. 
 
 The odours of each species of flowers are, for the statue, par- 
 ticular notions only, and it will consequently be the same with 
 every truth it perceives when it distinguishes one odour from 
 another. 
 
 But it possesses abstract notions of the agreeable state of 
 being and of the disagreeable. On this subject then it will have 
 general truths. It will know, that in general its modifications 
 differ one from another, and that they cause it to experience 
 more or less pleasure or discontent. 
 
 But these general notions presuppose in the statue particular 
 notions, since the particular ideas have preceded the abstract 
 ideas. 
 
368 CONDILLAC 
 
 9. As it is in the habit of being, of ceasing to be, and of again 
 being the same odour, it will conclude, when it is not that odour, 
 that it is capable of again being the odour, and when it is the 
 odour, that it is capable of not being it. Thus it will have occa- 
 sion to consider its modes of being as being capable of existing 
 or of not existing. This notion of the possible will not, however, 
 carry with it the knowledge of the causes which may produce a 
 given effect ; on the contrary, it will presuppose ignorance thereof, 
 and will be founded simply upon an habitual conclusion. When 
 the statue thinks, for instance, that it can cease to be scent of 
 rose and be once more scent of violet, it is not aware that a being 
 external to itself alone causes its sensations. To cause the statue 
 to come to a mistaken conclusion all we need do is to make it 
 smell continually the same odour. True, its imagination may 
 at times make up for it, but only when desire is violent, and even 
 then it does not always succeed. 
 
 10. The statue might, possibly, acting upon its habitual con- 
 clusions, attain to some notion of the impossible. Accustomed 
 to lose a certain mode of being the moment it enters a different 
 one, it is impossible, according to its way of thinking, that it 
 should be in two states of being at once. The only case in which 
 the statue would believe otherwise is when its imagination would 
 act with force sufficient to recall to it two sensations with the 
 same intensity as if it were really experiencing them. But that 
 can scarcely happen. It is natural that the statue's imagination 
 should conform to the habits it has acquired. So, having expe- 
 rienced its states of being one after the other only, it is in that 
 order only that it will imagine them. And besides it is probable 
 that its memory will not be vigorous enough to make appear pre- 
 sent to it two sensations it has had and which it no longer has. 
 
 But, what seems to me more probable, is that the statue's 
 habit of concluding that what has happened to it once may 
 happen to it again, contains the notion of the possible. It is diffi- 
 cult to suppose that it has any occasion to form any judgments 
 in which we could find the notion we entertain of the impossible. 
 To bring this about the statue would have to be preoccupied 
 with what it has not yet experienced, while it is far more natural 
 
TREATISE ON SENSATIONS 369 
 
 that it should be entirely taken up with what it is actually ex- 
 periencing. 
 
 11. From the fact that it distinguishes between odours comes 
 the notion of series, for the statue cannot feel that it is ceasing 
 to be what it was without conceiving in the change a duration of 
 two instants. 
 
 And as it cannot distinctly grasp more than three odours, so 
 it cannot distinguish more than three instants in any lapse of 
 time. Beyond that point it can see naught but an indefinite series. 
 
 If it be supposed that memory can recall to it, distinctly, as 
 many as four, five or six modes of being, it will consequently 
 distinguish four, five or six instants in duration. Every one may 
 frame such hypotheses as he pleases on this point, and substi- 
 tute them for those to which I have believed it best to give the 
 preference. 
 
 12. The transition from one odour to another imparts to our 
 statue the notion of the past only. To have the notion of the 
 future requires, on its part, that it should have experienced re- 
 peatedly the same succession of sensations, and that it should 
 have acquired the habit of concluding that a certain modifica- 
 tion is bound to follow upon a given one. 
 
 Let us take, by way of example, the series of jonquil, rose and 
 violet. So soon as these odours are continually connected in this 
 order, the moment one of them acts upon its sense of smell 
 memory immediately recalls to it the two others in the order 
 they bear to the one smelled. Just as when it smells the scent of 
 the violet the two others will be remembered as having preceded 
 it, and the statue will conceive of a past duration, so, when it 
 smells the scent of the jonquil, the scent of the rose and that of 
 the violet will be recalled as certain to follow, and the statue will 
 conceive a duration yet to come. 
 
 13. The scents of the jonquil, the rose and the violet may 
 therefore mark the three instants which the statue perceives in 
 clear fashion. For the same reason, the odours which have come 
 first and those which are in the habit of coming next will mark 
 the instants of time which the statue perceives vaguely in the 
 past and in the future. So, when it shall smell a rose, memory 
 
370 CONDILLAC 
 
 will recall distinctly the scent of the jonquil and that of the violet, 
 and it will represent to the statue an indefinite duration of time 
 which preceded the instant when it smelled the jonquil, and a 
 definite duration, which must follow that at which it will smell 
 the violet. 
 
 14. Perceiving this duration as indefinite, the statue can see 
 in it neither beginning nor end ; it cannot, therefore, even suspect 
 the existence of the one or the other. Thus, with regard to the 
 statue, that particular duration is absolute eternity; and the statue 
 feels as if it had always been and were never to cease to be. 
 
 In fact, it is not reflection upon the succession of the ideas we 
 have which tells us that we had a beginning and that we shall 
 have an end : it is the attention we bestow upon our fellow-crea- 
 tures, whom we behold being born and dying. A man who would 
 be acquainted with his own existence only would have no idea 
 of death. 
 
 15. The notion of duration, first produced by the succession 
 of impressions upon the organ, is preserved, or reproduced, by 
 the succession of sensations which memory recalls. So, even 
 when the odoriferous bodies cease to act upon the statue, it con- 
 tinues to represent to itself the present, the past and the future. 
 The present, by the state in which it finds itself; the past, by the 
 remembrance of the state in which it has been; the future, be- 
 cause it concludes that having repeatedly experienced the same 
 sensations, it may experience them again. 
 
 Therefore there are in the statue two successions or series: 
 that of the impressions made upon the organ, and that of the 
 sensations retraced in the memory. 
 
 1 6. Several impressions may follow each other in the organ 
 while the remembrance of a similar sensation is present in the 
 memory; and several sensations may be successively retraced in 
 the memory while a similar impression is acting upon the organ. 
 In the first case the series of impressions acting upon the sense 
 of smell give the measure of the duration of the remembrance of 
 a sensation; in the second, the succession of sensations which 
 present themselves to the memory give the measure of duration 
 of the impression made upon the sense of smell. 
 
TREATISE ON SENSATIONS 371 
 
 For instance, if, when the statue is smelling a rose, it recalls 
 the scent of the tuberose, of the jonquil, of the violet, it is by the 
 succession of these remembrances in its memory that it judges 
 of the duration of its sensation; and if, while it recalls the odour 
 of the rose, I should present to it rapidly a series of odoriferous 
 bodies, it is by the succession passing within the organ that it 
 judges of the duration of the remembrance of that sensation. 
 Thus it perceives that there is not one of its modifications that 
 cannot last. Duration becomes a relation under which it consid- 
 ers them all in general, and it thus acquires an abstract notion 
 of it. 
 
 If, while it is smelling a rose, it recalls successively the odours 
 of the violet, the jasmine or lavender, it will perceive as it were 
 an odour of rose lasting throughout three instants; and if it re- 
 calls a series of twenty odours, it will perceive itself as the odour 
 of rose since an indefinite point of time ; it will not conclude that 
 it has begun to be; it will believe it has been from all eternity. 
 
 17. It follows that it is only a succession of odours transmitted 
 by the organ of smell or renewed by memory which can impart 
 to the statue any notion of duration. It would never have known 
 more than a single instant if the first odoriferous body had 
 acted uniformly upon it, whether for an hour, a day, or longer; 
 or if the action of the body had undergone such delicate changes 
 that the statue had failed to note them. 
 
 The case will be the same if, having acquired the notion of 
 duration, it preserves a sensation without having recourse to its 
 memory, without recalling successively some of the states of 
 being through which it has passed. For how could it, in that 
 event, distinguish between the instants of time ? And if it does 
 not distinguish between them, how can it perceive duration ? 
 
 Therefore the notion of duration is not absolute, and when 
 we say that time is going fast or slow, we mean simply that the 
 revolutions by which we measure time are being accomplished 
 more rapidly or more slowly than our ideas follow one another. 
 This may be proved by a hypothesis. 
 
 1 8. If we will imagine a world composed of as many parts as 
 our own but no larger than a nut, it is not to be denied that the 
 
372 CONDILLAC 
 
 stars would rise and set on it thousands of times in the course 
 of one of our hours, and that, organized as we are, we could not 
 follow their motions. It would be necessary, therefore, that the 
 organs of the minds destined to inhabit that world should be 
 proportioned, to such rapid revolutions. 
 
 So, while the earth of that little world turned on its axis, and 
 around its sun, the inhabitants would receive as many ideas 
 as we do while our earth revolves in the same way. Therefore 
 their days and their years, it is evident, would seem as long to 
 them as ours do to us. 
 
 But supposing another world, as much larger than ours, as 
 ours would be than the one I have just supposed, the inhabitants 
 of that larger world would need to be endowed with organs too 
 slow in their action to note the revolutions of our stars. They 
 would bear the same relation to our world which we would 
 bear to the world no larger than a nut. They would be unable 
 to perceive any succession of movement. 
 
 Finally, let us inquire of the inhabitants of these worlds what 
 is the age of each : the inhabitants of the smaller would count by 
 millions of centuries; the inhabitants of the larger, scarcely open- 
 ing their eyes, would answer that they had just been created. 
 
 Therefore the notion of duration is wholly relative; each one 
 judges of it by the succession of his ideas, and it is probable that 
 there are not two men who, in a given space of time, count the 
 same number of instants, for it is to be presumed that there are 
 not two whose memory always retraces ideas with the same 
 rapidity. 
 
 Consequently a sensation which would last uniformly for a 
 year, or for a thousand years, for the matter of that, will appear 
 but an instant to our statue; just as an idea lasts but for an 
 instant for us while the inhabitants of the nut-large world are 
 counting up centuries. It is therefore a mistake to suppose that 
 all men count the same number of instants. The presence of an 
 idea, which does not change, being but an instant so far as I am 
 concerned, it follows as a consequence that a single instant in 
 my notion of duration may co-exist with several instants in the 
 notion of duration of another man. 
 
TREATISE ON SENSATIONS 373 
 
 CHAPTER V. THE SLEEP AND DREAMS OF A 
 MAN LIMITED TO THE SENSE OF SMELL 
 
 1. Our statue may be reduced to the condition of being merely 
 the remembrance of an odour; then the sense of its existence 
 appears to be lost to it. It feels less that it is existing than that 
 it has existed, and in proportion as memory recalls ideas to it 
 with less intensity, this remnant of feeling becomes weaker yet. 
 Like a light which goes out gradually, the feeling ceases wholly 
 when the faculty of memory becomes entirely inactive. 
 
 2. Now, our own experience compels us to believe that exer- 
 cise must in the end fatigue the memory and the imagination of 
 the statue. Let us therefore consider these faculties at rest, and 
 refrain from exciting them by any sensation : the resultant con- 
 dition will be that of sleep. 
 
 3. If the repose of these faculties be such that they are com- 
 pletely inactive, there is nothing to note, save that the sleep is 
 the soundest possible. If, on the contrary, these faculties con- 
 tinue to act, they will act upon a part only of the notions acquired. 
 A number of links in the chain will be cut out, and the succession 
 of ideas, during sleep, will necessarily differ from the order in 
 a waking state. Pleasure will no longer be the sole cause deter- 
 mining the action of the imagination. This faculty will awaken 
 those ideas only over which it still exercises a measure of power, 
 and it will tend just as frequently to make the statue unhappy 
 as to make it happy. 
 
 4. This is the dreaming state : it differs from the waking state 
 only in that the ideas do not preserve the same order and that 
 pleasure is not always the law which governs the imagination. 
 Every dream, therefore, involves the interception of a number 
 of ideas,, on which the faculties of the soul are unable to act. 
 
 5. Since the statue is unacquainted with any difference be- 
 tween imagining intensely and having sensations, it cannot dis- 
 tinguish any difference between dreaming and waking. What- 
 ever, therefore, it experiences while asleep is as real, so far as it 
 is concerned, as what it has experienced before falling asleep. 
 
374 CONDILLAC 
 
 CHAPTER VI. OF THE EGO, OR PERSONALITY OF 
 A MAN LIMITED TO THE SENSE OF SMELL 
 
 1. Our statue being capable of remembering, it is no sooner 
 one odour than it remembers that it has been another. That is its 
 personality, for if it could say 7, it would say it at every instant 
 of its own duration, and each time its I would comprise all the 
 moments it remembered. 
 
 2. True, it would not say -it at the first odour. What is meant 
 by that term seems to me to suit only a being which notes in 
 the present moment, that it is no longer what it has been. So 
 long as it does not change, it exists without thought of itself; but 
 as soon as it changes, it concludes that it is the selfsame which 
 was formerly in such another state, and it says /. 
 
 This observation confirms the fact that in the first instant of 
 its existence the statue cannot form desires, for before being 
 able to say / wish, one must have said 7. 
 
 3. The odours which the statue does not remember do not 
 therefore enter into the notion it has of its own person. Being as 
 foreign to its Ego as are colours and sounds, of which it has no 
 knowledge, they are, in respect of the statue, as if the statue had 
 never smelled them. Its Ego is but the sum of the sensations it 
 experiences and of those which memory recalls to it. In a word, 
 it is at once the consciousness of what it is and the remembrance 
 of what it has been. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. CONCLUSIONS FROM THE PRE- 
 CEDING CHAPTERS 
 
 i. Having proved that the statue is capable of being attentive, 
 of remembering, of comparing, of judging, of discerning, of 
 imagining; that it possesses abstract notions, notions of number 
 and duration; that it is acquainted with general and particular 
 truths; that desires are formed by it, that it has the power of 
 passions, loves, hates, wills; and finally that it contracts habits, 
 we must conclude that the mind is endowed with as many facul- 
 
TREATISE ON SENSATIONS 375 
 
 ties when it has but a single organ as when it has five. We shall 
 see that the faculties which appear to be peculiar to us are no- 
 thing else than the same faculties which, applied to a greater 
 number of objects, develop more fully. 
 
 2. If we consider that to remember, compare, judge, discern, 
 imagine, be astonished, have abstract notions, have notions of 
 duration and number, know general and particular truths, are 
 but different modes of attention; that to have passions, to love, 
 to hate, to hope, to fear and to will are but different modes of 
 desire, and that, finally, attention and desire are in their essence 
 but sensation, we shall conclude that sensation calls out all the 
 faculties of the soul. 
 
 3. Lastly, if we consider that there are no absolutely indiffer- 
 ent sensations, we shall further conclude that the different degrees 
 of pleasure and of pain constitute the law according to which 
 the germ of all that we are has developed in order to produce all 
 our faculties. 
 
 This principle may be called want, astonishment, or otherwise, 
 but it remains ever the same, for we are always moved by plea- 
 sure or by pain in whatever we are led to do by need or astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 The fact is that our earliest notions are pain or pleasure only. 
 Many others soon follow these, and give rise to comparisons, 
 whence spring our earliest needs and our earliest desires. Our 
 researches, undertaken for the purpose of satisfying these needs 
 and desires, cause us to acquire additional notions which in their 
 turn produce new desires. The surprise which makes us feel in- 
 tensely any extraordinary thing happening to us, increases from 
 time to time the activity of our faculties, and there is formed a 
 chain the links of which are alternately notions and desires, and 
 it is sufficient to follow up this chain to discover the progress of 
 the enlightening of man. 
 
 4. Nearly all that I have said about the faculties of the soul, 
 while treating of the sense of smell, I might have said if I had 
 taken any other sense ; it is easy to apply all to each of the senses. 
 I have now only to examine what is peculiar to each of them. 
 
IMMANUEL KANT 
 
 (1724-1804) 
 
 THE CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 
 
 Selections translated from the German * by 
 JOHN WATSON 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 i. Distinction of Pure and Empirical Knowledge. 
 
 THERE can be no doubt whatever that all our knowledge begins 
 with_experience. By what means should the faculty of know- 
 ledge be aroused to activity but by objects, which, acting upon 
 our senses, partly of themselves produce ideas in us, and partly 
 set our understanding at work to compare these ideas with one 
 another, and, by combining or separating them, to convert the 
 raw material of our sensible impressions into that knowledge of 
 objects which is called experience ? In the order of time, there- 
 fore, we have no knowledge prior to experience, and with expe- 
 rience all our knowledge begins. 
 
 But, although all our knowledge begins with experience, it 
 by no means follows that it all originates from experience. For 
 it may well be that experience is itself made up of two elements, 
 one received through impressions of sense, and the other sup- 
 plied from itself by our faculty of knowledge on occasion of those 
 impressions. If that be so, it may take long practice before our 
 attention is drawn to the element added by the mind, and we 
 learn to distinguish and separate it from the material to which 
 it is applied. 
 
 It is, therefore, a question which cannot be lightly put aside, 
 but can be answered only after careful investigation, whether 
 there is any knowledge that is independent of experience, and 
 
 * From the Kritik der reinen Vernunft, Riga, 1781 ; 2. umgearb. Aufl., 1787. 
 Reprinted from The Philosophy oj Kant, as Contained in Extracts from his own 
 Writings, selected and translated by John Watson, LL.D. New ed., Glasgow, 
 1901. 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 377 
 
 even of all impressions of sense. Such knowledge is said to be 
 a priori, to distinguish it from empirical knowledge, which has 
 its sources a posteriori, or in experience. 
 
 The term a priori must, however, be defined more precisely, 
 in order that the full meaning of our question may be understood. 
 We say of a man who undermines the foundations of his house, 
 that he might have known a priori that it would fall; by which 
 we mean, that he might have known it would fall, without wait- 
 ing for the event to take place in his experience. But he could 
 not know it completely a priori; for it is only from experience 
 that he could learn that bodies are heavy, and must fall by their 
 own weight when there is nothing to support them. 
 
 By a priori knowledge we shall, therefore, in what follows 
 understand, not such knowledge as is independent of this or that 
 experience, but such as is absolutely independent of all experience. 
 Opposed to it is empirical knowledge, or that which is possible 
 only a posteriori, that is, by experience. A priori knowledge is 
 pure, when it is unmixed with anything empirical. The propo- 
 sition, for instance, that each change has its own cause is a priori, 
 but it is not pure, because change is an idea that can be derived 
 only from experience. 
 
 4. THe_ Distinction Between Analytic and Synthetic Judgments. 
 
 There are two ways in which the predicate of an affirmative 
 judgment may be related to the subject. Either the predicate 
 B is already tacitly contained in the subject A, or B lies entirely 
 outside of A, although it is in some way connected with it. In 
 the one case I call the judgment analytic, in the other case syn- 
 thetic. Analytic judgments are those in which the predicate is 
 related to the subject in the way of identity, while in synthetic 
 judgments the predicate is not thought as identical with the 
 subject. The former class might also be called explicative, be- 
 cause the predicate adds nothing to the subject, but merely 
 breaks it up into its logical elements, and brings to clear con- 
 sciousness what was already obscurely thought in it. The latter 
 class we may call ampliative, as adding in the predicate some- 
 thing that was in no sense thought in the subject, and that no 
 
378 KANT 
 
 amount of analysis could possibly extract from it. "Body is 
 extended," for instance, is an analytic judgment. For, to be 
 conscious that extension is involved in the conception signified 
 by the term body, it is not necessary to go outside that concep- 
 tion, but merely to analyze it into the various logical elements 
 that are always thought in it. But in the proposition "Body has 
 weight," the predicate is not implied in the very conception of 
 body, but is a perfectly new idea. The addition of such a predi- 
 cate, therefore, yields a synthetic judgment. 
 
 In a priori synthetic judgments, I can get no aid whatever 
 from experience. But, if it is here vain to look to experience for 
 aid, on what other support am I to rely, when I seek to go 
 beyond a certain conception A, and to connect B synthetically 
 with it? Take the proposition, that every event must have its 
 cause. No doubt I cannot have the conception of an event with- 
 out thinking of something as having a moment of time before it, 
 and from this certain analytic judgments may be derived. But 
 the conception of a cause lies entirely outside the conception of 
 an event, and introduces an idea not contained in it.. Bxjwhat 
 right, then, do I pass from the^conceptign of an event to the 
 totally different conception of a cause? How do I know that 
 there is a necessary connection between the two conceptions, 
 when I can perfectly well think the one without the other ? What 
 is here the unknown x y which gives support to the understanding, 
 when it seems to have discovered an entirely new predicate B 
 to belong necessarily to the subject A ? Experience it cannot be, 
 because the principle has a degree of universality that experience 
 can never supply, as it is supposed to connect the new concep- 
 tion with the old in the way of necessity, and must do so entirely 
 a priori, and on the basis of mere conceptions. And yet our 
 speculative a priori knowledge must rest upon such synthetic 
 or ampliative propositions. 
 
 6. The Problem of Pure Reason. 
 
 It is of very great advantage, to others as well as to oneself, 
 to be able to bring together various topics of investigation in a 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 379 
 
 single problem. Now, the true problem of pure reason may be 
 put in this way How are a priori synthetic judgments pos- 
 sible ? 
 
 Should this question be answered in a satisfactory way, we 
 shall at the same time learn what part reason plays in the foun- 
 dation and completion of those sciences which contain a theo- 
 retical a priori knowledge of objects. Thus we shall be able 
 to answer the questions How is pure mathematics possible ? 
 How is pure physics possible ? As these sciences actually exist, 
 we may fairly ask how they are possible; for that they must be 
 possible is proved by the fact that they exist. But as no real 
 progress has as yet been made in the construction of a system 
 that realizes the essential aim of metaphysic^ it cannot be said 
 that metaphysic exists, and there is, therefore, reason to doubt 
 whether it is possible at all. 
 
 Yet in one sense metaphysic may certainly be said to exist, 
 namely, in the sense that there is in man a natural disposition 
 to seek for this kind of knowledge. But as all attempts to answer 
 the questions which human reason is naturally impelled to ask, 
 as, for instance, whether the world had a beginning, or has existed 
 from all eternity, have always and unavoidably ended in self- 
 contradiction; we cannot be satisfied with asserting the mere 
 natural disposition to metaphysical speculation, or, in other 
 words, with the bare ability of pure reason to construct some 
 sort of metaphysic. It must be possible for reason to attain to 
 certainty one way or the other: we must be able to ascertain 
 whether reason can know the objects it seeks, or whether it can- 
 not know them ; we must find a conclusive answer to the ques- 
 tion whether pure reason is capable or incapable of determining 
 the nature of those objects, and whether, therefore, its domain 
 may with confidence be enlarged beyond the limits of experience, 
 or must be restricted within them. Accordingly, the third and 
 last question, which flows from the general problem of pure 
 reason, may be correctly put in this way: How is a science of 
 metaphysic possible ? Thus a criticism of reason in the end 
 necessarily leads to science, whereas the dogmatic employment 
 of reason without previous criticism can lead only to groundless 
 
380 KANT 
 
 assertions, to which other assertions equally specious may al- 
 ways be opposed, the inevitable result being scepticism. 
 
 7. Idea and Division of the Critique of Pure Reason. 
 
 From all that has been said we get the idea of a unique science, 
 which may be called the Critique of Pure Reason. It is not a 
 doctrine, but a criticism of pure reason, and its speculative value 
 is entirely negative, because it does not enlarge our knowledge, 
 but only casts light upon the nature of our reason and enables 
 us to keep it free from error. By transcendental knowledge I 
 mean all knowledge that is occupied, not with objects, but with 
 the way in which a knowledge of objects may be gained, so far 
 as that is possible a priori. What we propose is not a doctrine 
 of pure reason, but a transcendental criticism, the purpose of 
 which is not to extend knowledge, but to rectify it, and to supply 
 a touchstone of the value of all a priori knowledge. 
 
 This transcendental criticism will afford a complete archi- 
 tectonic plan of transcendental philosophy, as exhibited in its 
 principles, and will therefore give a perfect guarantee of the 
 completeness and stability of the edifice in all its parts. 
 
 The Critique of Pure Reason therefore contains all that is 
 essential to the idea of transcendental philosophy, and if we dis- 
 tinguish it from that philosophy, the reason is that it does not 
 carry its analysis beyond what is required in a complete estimate 
 of a priori synthetic knowledge. 
 
 The main thing to be kept in view in the division of such a 
 science is that no ideas be allowed to enter that are in any way 
 of empirical origin, or, in other words, that it consist only of 
 perfectly pure a priori knowledge. Hence, although the prin- 
 ciples and fundamental conceptions of morality are a priori, 
 they form no part of a transcendental philosophy, because they 
 are necessarily relative to the conceptions of pleasure and pain, 
 desire, and inclination, etc., which in their origin are empirical. 
 
 In a systematic division of this science we must have, firstly, 
 a doctrine of the elements, secondly, a doctrine of the method of 
 pure reason. As to trie subdivisions, it seems enough to say at 
 present that there are two stems of human knowledge Sensi- 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 381 
 
 bility and Understanding, which may perhaps spring from a 
 common root, unknown to us, and that by the one objects are 
 given, by the other they are thought. Now, if Sensibility is found 
 to contain an a priori element, without which objects could not 
 be given to us, an investigation into the nature of that element 
 will be one of the tasks of transcendental philosophy. The doc- 
 trine of this transcendental element of sensible perception will 
 form the first part of the science of elements, because we must 
 consider the conditions under which objects of human know- 
 ledge are given, before we go on to inquire into the conditions 
 under which they are thought. 
 
 TRANSCENDENTAL AESTHETIC 
 
 I 
 
 Sensation is the actual affection of our sensibility, or capacity 
 of receiving impressions, by an object. The perception which 
 refers itself to an object through sensation, is empirical percep- - - 
 tion. The undetermined object of such a perception is a phe- 
 nomenon (Erscheinung). 
 
 That element in the phenomenon which corresponds to sen- 
 sation I call the matter, while that element which makes it pos- 
 sible that the various determinations of the phenomenon should *'* 
 be arranged in certain ways relatively to one another is its form. 
 Now, that without which sensations can have no order or 'form, 
 cannot itself be sensation. The matter of a phenomenon is given 
 to us entirely a posteriori, but its form must lie a priori in the 
 mind, and hence it must be capable of being considered by itself 
 apart from sensation. 
 
 This pure form of sensibility is also called pure perception. 
 Thus, if from the consciousness of a body, I separate all that 
 the understanding has thought into it, as substance, force, divisi- 
 bility, etc., and all that is due to sensation, as impenetrability, 
 hardness, colour, etc. ; what is left over are extension and figure. 
 These, therefore, belong to pure perception, which exists in the 
 mind a priori, as a mere form of sensibility, even when no sen- 
 sation or object of sense is actually present. 
 
382 KANT 
 
 The science of all the a priori principles of sensibility I call 
 Transcendental Msihetic, in contradistinction from the science 
 of the principles of pure thought, which I call Transcendental 
 Logic. 
 
 In Transcendental ^Esthetic we shall first of all isolate sensi- 
 bility, abstracting from all that the understanding contributes 
 through its conceptions, so that we may have nothing before us 
 but empirical perception. In the next place, we shall separate 
 from empirical perception all that belongs to sensation; when 
 there will remain only pure perception, or the mere form of 
 phenomena, the sole element that sensibility can yield a priori. 
 If this is done, it will be found that there are two pure forms of 
 sensible perception, which constitute principles of a priori know- 
 ledge, namely, Space and Time. With these it will now be our 
 business to deal. 
 
 SECTION I. SPACE 
 2. Metaphysical Exposition oj Space. 
 
 In external sense we are conscious of objects as outside of 
 ourselves, and as all without exception in space. In space their 
 shape, size, and relative position are marked out, or are capable 
 of being marked out. Inner sense, in which we are conscious of 
 ourselves, or rather of our own state, gives us, it is true, no direct 
 perception of the soul itself as an object; but it nevertheless is 
 the one single form in which our own state comes before us as a 
 definite object of perception ; and hence all inner determinations 
 appear to us as related to one another in time. We cannot be 
 conscious of time as external, any more than we can be conscious 
 of space as something within us. What, then, are space and 
 time ? Are they in themselves real things ? Are they only deter- 
 minations, or perhaps merely relations of things, which yet would 
 belong to things in themselves even if those things were not 
 perceived by us? Or, finally, have space and time no meaning 
 except as forms of perception, belonging to the subjective consti- 
 tution of our own mind, apart from which they cannot be predi- 
 cated of anything whatever? To answer these questions I shall 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 383 
 
 begin with a metaphysical exposition of space. An exposition I 
 call it, because it gives a distinct, although not a detailed, state- 
 ment of what is implied in the idea of space ; and the exposition 
 is metaphysical, because it brings forward the reasons we have 
 for regarding space as given a priori. 
 
 (1) Space is not an empirical conception, which has been 
 derived from external experiences. For I could not be conscious 
 that certain of my sensations are relative to something outside 
 of me, that is, to something in a different part of space from that 
 in which I myself am; nor could I be conscious of them as 
 outside of and beside one another, were I not at the same time 
 conscious that they not only are different in content, but are in 
 different places. The consciousness of space is, therefore, neces- 
 sarily presupposed in external perception. No experience of the 
 external relations of sensible things could yield the idea of space, 
 because without the consciousness of space there would be no 
 external experience whatever. 
 
 (2) Space is a necessary a priori idea, which is presupposed 
 in all external perceptions. By no effort can we think space to be 
 away, although we can quite readily think of space as empty of 
 objects. Space we therefore regard as a condition of the possi- 
 bility gfjphenomena, and not as a detennination dependenTlm 
 
 isTFms a priori, and is necessarily presupposed 
 in external phenomena. 
 
 (3) Space is not a discursive or general conception of the re- 
 lation of things, but a pure perception. For we can be conscious 
 only of a single space. It is true that we speak as if there were 
 many spaces, but we really mean only parts of one and the same 
 identical space. Nor can we say that these parts exist before the 
 one all-embracing space, and are put together to form a whole; 
 but we can think of them only as in it. Space is essentially single; 
 by the plurality of spaces, we merely mean that because space 
 can be limited in many ways, the general conception of spaces 
 presupposes such limitations, as its foundation. From this it 
 follows, that an a priori perception, and not an empirical per- 
 ception, underlies all conceptions of pure space. Accordingly, 
 no geometrical proposition, as, for instance, that any two sides 
 
384 KANT 
 
 of a triangle are greater than the third side, can ever be derived 
 from the general conceptions of line and triangle, but only from 
 perception. From the perception, however, it can be derived a 
 priori, and with demonstrative certainty. 
 
 (4) Space is presented before our consciousness as an infinite 
 magnitude. Now, in every conception we certainly think of a 
 certain attribute as common to an infinite number of possible 
 objects, which are subsumed under the conception; but, from 
 its very nature, no conception can possibly be supposed to con- 
 tain an infinite number of determinations within it. But it is 
 just in this way that space is thought of, all its parts being con- 
 ceived to co-exist ad infinitum. Hence the original consciousness 
 of space is an a priori perception, not a conception. 
 
 ^ 3. Transcendental Exposition o) Space. 
 
 A transcendental exposition seeks to show how, from a certain 
 principle, the possibility of other a priori synthetic knowledge 
 may be explained. To be successful, it must prove (i) that there 
 really are synthetic propositions which can be derived from the 
 principle in question, (2) that they can be so derived only if a 
 certain explanation of that principle is adopted. 
 
 Now, geometry is a science that determines the properties of 
 space synthetically, and yet a priori. What, then, must be the 
 nature of space, in order that such knowledge of it may be pos- 
 sible ? Our original consciousness of it must be perception, for 
 no new truth, such as we have in the propositions of geometry, 
 can be obtained from the mere analysis of a given conception. 
 And this perception must be a priori, or, in other words, must 
 be found in us before we actually observe an object, and hence 
 it must be pure, not empirical perception. For all geometrical 
 propositions, as, for instance, that space has but three dimen- 
 sions, are of demonstrative certainty, or present themselves in 
 consciousness as necessary; and such propositions cannot be 
 empirical, nor can they be derived from judgments of experience. 
 
 How, then, can there be in the mind an external perception, 
 which is antecedent to objects themselves, and in which the 
 conception of those objects may be determined a priori? Mani- 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 385 
 
 festly, only if that perception has its seat in the subject, that is, 
 if it belongs to the formal constitution of the subject, in virtue 
 of which it is so affected by objects as to have a direct conscious- 
 ness or perception of them; therefore, only if perception is the 
 universal form of outer sense. 
 
 Inferences. 
 
 (a) Space is in no sense a property of things in themselves, 
 nor is it a relation of things in themselves to one another. It is 
 not a determination that still belongs to objects even wlien ab- 
 straction has been made from all the subjective conditions of 
 perception. For we never could perceive a priori any determi- 
 nation of things, whether belonging to them individually or in 
 relation to one another, antecedently to our perception of those 
 things themselves. 
 
 (b) Space is nothing but the form of all the phenomena of 
 
 outer sense. It is the ftfrfcfrrtTVP condition without which no 
 'HP . 
 
 external perception is possible for us. The receptivity of the 
 subject, or its capability of being affected by objects, necessarily 
 exists before there is any perception of objects. Hence it is easy 
 to understand, how the form of all phenomena may exist in the 
 mind a priori, antecedently to actual observation, and how, as 
 a pure perception in which all objects must be determined, it 
 may contain the principles that determine beforehand the re- 
 lations of objects when they are met with in experience. 
 
 . . . Our exposition, therefore, establishes the reality, or ob- 
 jective truth of space, as a determination of every object that 
 can possibly come before us as external ; but, at the same -time, 
 it proves the ideality of space, when space is considered by rea- 
 son relatively to things in themselves, that is, without regard 
 to the constitution of our sensibility. We, therefore, affirm the 
 empirical reality of space, as regards all possible external expe- 
 rience; but we also maintain its transcendental ideality, or, in 
 other words, we hold that space is nothing at all, if its limitation 
 to possible experience is ignored, and it is treated as a necessary 
 condition of things in themselves. 
 
386 KANT 
 
 SECTION II. TIME 
 4. Metaphysical Exposition of Time. 
 
 (1) Time is not an empirical conception, which has been de- 
 rived from any experience. For we should not observe things to 
 co-exist or to follow one another, did we not possess the idea 
 of time a priori. It is, therefore, only under the presupposition 
 of time, that we can be conscious of certain things as existing 
 at the same time (simultaneously), or at different times (suc- 
 cessively). 
 
 (2) Time is a necessary idea, which is presupposed in all 
 perceptions. We cannot be conscious of phenomena if time is 
 taken away, although we can quite readily suppose phenomena 
 to be absent from time. Time is, therefore, given a priori. No 
 phenomenon can exist at all that is not in time. While, there- 
 fore, phenomena may be supposed to vanish completely out of 
 time, time itself, as the universal condition of their possibility, 
 cannot be supposed away. 
 
 (3) Time is not a discursive, or general conception, but a 
 pure form of sensible perception. ^Different times are but parts 
 of the very same time. Now, the consciousness of that which is 
 presented as one single object, is perception. Moreover, the 
 proposition, that no two moments of time can co-exist, cannot 
 be derived from a general conception. The proposition is syn- 
 thetic, and cannot originate in mere conceptions. It therefore 
 rests upon the direct perception and idea of time. 
 
 (4) The infinity of time simply means, that every definite 
 quantity of time is possible only as a limitation of one single 
 time. There must, therefore, be originally a consciousness of 
 time as unlimited. Now, if an object presents itself as a whole, 
 so that its parts and every quantity of it can be represented only 
 by limiting that whole, such an object cannot be given in con- 
 ception, for conceptions contain only partial determinations of a 
 thing. A direct perception must therefore be the foundation of 
 the idea of time. 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 387 
 
 5. Transcendental Exposition of Time. 
 
 Apodictic principles which determine relations in time, or 
 axioms of time in general, are possible only because time is the 
 necessary a priori condition of all phenomena. Time has but 
 one dimension; different times do not co-exist but follow one 
 another, just as different spaces do not follow one another but 
 co-exist. Such propositions cannot be derived from experience, 
 which never yields strict universality or demonstrative certainty. 
 If they were based upon experience, we could say only, that it 
 has ordinarily been observed to be so, not that it must be so. 
 Principles like these have the force of rules, that lay down the 
 conditions without which no experience whatever is possible: 
 they are not learned from experience, but anticipate whatj^xpe- 
 rience mustjpe. 
 
 Let me add here that change, including motion or change of 
 place, is conceivable only in and through the idea of time. Were 
 time not an inner a priori perception, we could not form the least 
 idea how there should be any such thing as change. Take away 
 time, and change combines in itself absolutely contradictory 
 predicates. Motion, or change of place, for instance, must then 
 be thought of as at once the existence and the non-existence of 
 one and the same thing in the same place. The contradiction 
 disappears, only when it is seen that the thing has those opposite 
 determinations one after the other. Our conception of time as 
 an a priori form of perception, therefore explains the possibility 
 of the whole body of a priori synthetic propositions in regard to 
 motion that are contained in the pure part of physics, and hence 
 it is not a little fruitful in results. 
 
 6. Inferences. 
 
 (a) Time is not an independent substance nor an objective 
 determination of things, and hence it does not survive when ab- 
 straction has been made from all the subjective conditions of 
 perception. Were it an independent thing, it would be real with- 
 out being a real object of consciousness. Were it a determina- 
 tion or order of things as they are in themselves, it could not 
 
3 88 KANT 
 
 precede our perception of those things as its necessary condition, 
 nor could it be known by means of synthetic judgments. But 
 the possibility of such judgments becomes at once intelligible if 
 time is nothing but the subjective condition, without which we 
 can have no perception whatever. For in that case we may be 
 conscious of this form of inner perception before we are con- 
 scious of objects, and therefore a priori. 
 
 (b) Time is nothing but the form of inner sense, that is, of 
 the perception of ourselves and our own inner state. As it has 
 no influence on the shape or position of an object, time cannot 
 be a determination of outer phenomena as such; what it does 
 determine is the relation of ideas in our own inner state. And 
 just because this inner perception has no shape of its own, we 
 seek to make up for this want by analogies drawn from space. 
 Thus, we figure the series of time as a line that proceeds to in- 
 finity, the parts of which form a series ; and we reason from the 
 properties of this line to all the properties of time, taking care to 
 allow for the one point of difference, that the parts of the spatial 
 line all exist at once, while the parts of the temporal line all fol- 
 low one after the other. Even from this fact alone, that all the 
 relations of time may thus be presented in an external percep- 
 tion, it would be evident that time is itself a perception. 
 
 (c) Time is the formal a priori condition of all phenomena 
 without exception. Space, as the pure form of all external phe- 
 nomena, is the a priori condition only of external phenomena. 
 But all objects of perception, external as well as internal, are 
 determinations of the mind, and, from that point of view, belong 
 to our inner state. And as this inner state comes under time, 
 which is the formal condition of inner perception, time is an a 
 priori condition of all phenomena : it is the immediate condition 
 of inner phenomena, and so the mediate condition of outer phe- 
 nomena. Just as I can say, a priori, that all external phenomena 
 are in space, and are determined a priori in conformity with the 
 relations of space, so, from the principle of the inner sense, I can 
 say quite generally that all phenomena are in time, and stand 
 necessarily in relations of time. 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 389 
 
 We see, then, that time is empirically real, or is objectively 
 true in relation to all objects that are capable of being presented 
 to our senses. And as our perception always is sensuous, no ob- 
 ject can ever be presented to us in experience, which does not 
 conform to time as its condition. On the other hand, we deny 
 to time all claim to absolute reality, because such a claim, in 
 paying no heed to the form of sensible perception, assumes time 
 to be an absolute condition or property of things. Such proper- 
 ties, as supposed to belong to things in themselves, can never be 
 presented to us in sense. From this we infer the transcendental 
 ideality of time ; by which we mean that, in abstraction from 
 the subjective conditions of sensible perception, time is simply 
 nothing, and cannot be said either to subsist by itself, or to inhere 
 in things that do. so subsist. 
 
 Conclusion of the Transcendental ^Esthetic* 
 
 We have, then, in the Transcendental ^Esthetic, one of the 
 elements required in the solution of the general problem of tran- 
 scendental philosophy: How are a priori synthetic propositions 
 possible ? Such propositions rest upon space and time, which are 
 pure a priori perceptions. To enable us to go beyond a given 
 conception, in an a priori judgment, we have found that some- 
 thing is needed, which is not contained in the conception, but 
 in the perception corresponding to it, something therefore that 
 may be connected with that conception synthetically. But such 
 judgments, as based upon perception, can never extend beyond 
 objects of sense, and therefore hold true only for objects of possi- 
 ble experience. 
 
 TRANSCENDENTAL LOGIC 
 
 i. General Logic. 
 
 There are two ultimate sources from which knowledge comes 
 to us : either we receive ideas in the form of impressions, or, by 
 our spontaneous faculty of conception, we know an object by 
 means of those ideas. In the former case, the object is given to 
 
39 o KANT 
 
 us ; in the latter case, it is thought in relation to the impressions 
 that arise in our consciousness. Perception and conception, 
 therefore, are the two elements that enter into all our knowledge. 
 To every conception some form of perception corresponds, and 
 no perception yields knowledge without conception. . -. . 
 
 If sensibility is the receptivity of the mind in the actual ap- 
 prehension of some impression, understanding is the spontaneity 
 of knowledge, or the faculty that of itself produces ideas. We 
 are so constituted that our perception always is sensuous; or it 
 shows merely the manner in which we are affected by objects. 
 But we have also understanding, or the faculty of thinking the 
 object of sensuous perception. Neither of these is to be regarded 
 as superior to the other. Without sensibility no object would 
 be given to us, without understanding none would be thought. 
 Thoughts without content are empty, perceptions without con- 
 ceptions are blinql. It is therefore just as necessary to make our 
 conceptions sensuous, that is, to add the object to them in 
 perception, as it is to make our perceptions intelligible, that is, 
 to bring them under conceptions. Neither of these faculties or 
 capacities can do the work of the other. Understanding can 
 perceive nothing, the senses can think nothing. Knowledge 
 arises only from their united action. But this is no reason for 
 confusing the function of either with that of the other, it is rather 
 a strong reason for carefully separating and distinguishing the 
 one from the other. Hence it is, that we distinguish ^Esthetic, 
 as the science of the universal rules of sensibility, from Logic, 
 which is the science of the universal rules of understanding. 
 
 2. Transcendental Logic. 
 
 Pure general logic, then, abstracts from all the content of 
 knowledge, or what is the same thing, from all relation of know- 
 ledge to its objects, and considers merely the logical form im- 
 plied in the relation of one element of knowledge to another, 
 or the universal form of thought. Now, we have learned from 
 the Transcendental ^Esthetic that there are pure as well as em- 
 pirical perceptions, and it may well be, that a similar distinction 
 obtains between the pure and the empirical thought of objects. 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 391 
 
 In that case, there will be a logic that does not abstract from all 
 the content of knowledge. Containing merely the rules of the 
 pure thought of an object, it will exclude all knowledge, the 
 content of which is empirical. It will also refer our knowledge 
 of objects to its origin, in so far as that origin cannot be ascribed 
 to objects themselves. 
 
 Let us suppose, then, that there are conceptions which relate 
 to objects a priori, but which, as mere functions of pure thought, 
 stand to objects in quite a different relation from that in which 
 perceptions stand to them, whether these are pure or sensuous. 
 As these conceptions will be of neither empirical nor aesthetic 
 origin, we get the idea of a science of pure understanding and 
 pure reason, the aim of which is to examine into the knowledge 
 which we obtain by thinking objects completely a priori. Such 
 a science, as setting forth the origin, the limit, and the objective 
 validity of pure conceptions, we must call Transcendental Logic. 
 
 4. Division of Transcendental Logic into Analytic and Dialectic. 
 
 Just as in Transcendental ^Esthetic we isolated the sensibility, 
 so in Transcendental Logic we shall isolate the understanding, 
 and throw into relief that element in our knowledge which has 
 its origin in the understanding alone. This pure element can be 
 employed in actual knowledge, only on condition that objects are 
 presented in perception to which it may be applied. For, with- 
 out perception, the pure element of knowledge has no object, 
 and therefore remains perfectly empty. That part of Transcen- 
 dental Logic which sets forth the pure element in knowledge 
 that belongs to understanding, and the principles without which 
 no object whatever can be thought, is Transcendental Analytic. 
 It is a logic of truth, because no knowledge can contradict it 
 without losing all content, that is, all relation to an object, and 
 therefore all truth. But there is a very seductive and deceptive 
 tendency to employ that pure knowledge of understanding and 
 those principles by themselves, and to apply them even beyond 
 the limits of experience. Only in experience, however, can any 
 matter or object be found to which the pure conceptions of under- 
 standing may be applied. There is thus a danger that under- 
 
392 KANT 
 
 standing, with a mere show of rationality, may make a material 
 use of its purely formal principles, and pass judgments upon all 
 objects without distinction, whether they are given to us or not, 
 and perhaps even although they cannot be given to us at all. That 
 which is merely a canon for the criticism of understanding in its 
 empirical use, is misused, when it is supposed to be an organon 
 that may be employed universally and without restriction, and 
 when it permits understanding to venture upon synthetic judg- 
 ments about objects in general, and to pronounce and decide 
 upon them. Pure understanding is then employed dialectically. 
 The second part of Transcendental Logic must therefore con- 
 sist of a criticism of dialectical illusion. It is called Dialectic, 
 not because it is an art of producing illusion dogmatically a 
 favourite art of too many metaphysical jugglers but because 
 it is a criticism of understanding and reason in their hyper- 
 physical use; a criticism, the aim of which is to expose their 
 specious and groundless pretensions to the discovery and ex- 
 tension of knowledge through purely transcendental principles, 
 and to preserve understanding from all sophistical illusion. 
 
 TRANSCENDENTAL ANALYTIC 
 BOOK I. ANALYTIC OF CONCEPTIONS 
 
 CHAPTER I. GUIDING- THREAD FOR THE DISCOVERY OF THE 
 CATEGORIES 
 
 The first part of Transcendental Analytic deals with the concep- 
 tions, the second part with the judgments of pure understanding. 
 
 It is the privilege as well as the duty of transcendental phi- 
 losophy, to proceed in the search for its conceptions upon a 
 definite principle ; for these conceptions spring from the under- 
 standing pure and unmixed, and must therefore be connected 
 together in the unity of a single conception or idea. This one 
 fundamental conception is a systematic principle, by the appli- 
 cations of which we may be certain a priori that we have found 
 out all the pure conceptions of understanding, and have assigned 
 to each its proper place in the whole system. 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 393 
 
 Section I. The Logical Use 0} Understanding. 
 
 Understanding has. already been defined, negatively, as a 
 non-sensuous faculty of knowledge. Now, as without sensibility 
 we can have no perception, understanding cannot be a faculty 
 of perception. But, apart from perception, the only other mode 
 of obtaining knowledge is by means of conceptions. Therefore 
 the knowledge that is due to understanding, or at least to human 
 understanding, is a knowledge by means of conceptions; it is 
 not perceptive, but discursive. All perceptions, as sensuous, rest 
 upon affections, whereas conceptions rest upon functions. By 
 function I mean the unity of act, in which various ideas are 
 brought under a common idea. Conceptions are based on the 
 spontaneity of thought, sensuous perceptions on the receptivity 
 of impressions. Now the only use that understanding can make 
 of these conceptions is to judge by means of them. And, as with- 
 out perception there is no direct consciousness of an object, a 
 conception is never related directly to an object, but always 
 indirectly, through a perception or through another conception. 
 Judgment is therefore the indirect knowledge of an object, or 
 the knowledge of knowledge. In every judgment there is a con- 
 ception which holds true of various ideas, and, among others, 
 of one which is directly referred to an object. Thus, in the judg- 
 ment that all bodies are divisible, the conception of divisibility 
 applies to various other conceptions, but it is in an especial way 
 related to the conception of body, as this again is related to cer- 
 tain objects that we directly perceive. Of these objects we are 
 therefore conscious only indirectly in the conception of divisi- 
 bility. Accordingly, all judgments are functions of unity, because 
 they do not consist in the direct knowledge of an object, but 
 bring that and other knowledge under the unity of a higher and 
 more comprehensive conception. And as we can reduce all acts 
 of understanding to judgments, understanding itself may be 
 said to be a jaculty of judgment. For, as we have seen above, 
 understanding is the faculty of thought. To think is to know 
 by means of conceptions. But conceptions, as predicates of 
 possible judgments, are relative to the idea of an object not yet 
 
394 KANT 
 
 determined. By the conception of body is meant something 
 metal, for instance which may be known by means of that 
 conception. Body is a conception, just because it contains under 
 it other determinations by means of which it may be referred to 
 actual objects. It is thus the predicate of a possible judgment, 
 such a*s, that every metal is a body. We may, therefore, find out 
 all the possible functions of judgment if we can but tell what are 
 all the possible functions of unity in judgment. And this, as we 
 shall see in the next section, can quite readily be done. 
 
 Section II. 9. The Logical Function o\ Understanding in 
 
 Judgment. 
 
 If we abstract from all the content of a judgment, and only 
 pay heed to the mere form of understanding, we find that the 
 functions of thought in judgment may be brought under four 
 heads, each of which contains three subdivisions. Thus we get 
 the following table : 
 
 i. Quantity of Judgments. 
 
 Universal. 
 Particular. 
 Singular. 
 2. Quality. 3. Relation. 
 
 Affirmative. Categorical. 
 
 Negative. Hypothetical. 
 
 Infinite. Disjunctive. 
 
 4. Modality. 
 
 Problematic. 
 
 Assertoric. 
 
 Apodictic. 
 
 Pure synthesis, viewed in its most general aspect, is the pure 
 conception of understanding. By this pure synthesis I under- 
 stand that which rests upon a basis of a priori synthetic unity. 
 Thus in arithmetical addition, as is readily seen in the case of 
 larger numbers, the synthesis conforms to a conception, because 
 it proceeds on a common basis of unity, as, for instance, the de- 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 395 
 
 cade. By this conception the unity in the synthesis of a complex 
 is made necessary. 
 
 By analysis various ideas are brought under a single concep- 
 tion, as is shown in general logic. But it belongs to transcen- 
 dental logic to tell us how the pure synthesis 0} ideas is brought 
 to conceptions. The first element that enters into the know- 
 ledge of all objects a priori is the complex content of pure per- 
 ception. The second element is the synthesis of this content by 
 imagination. But as even this is not enough to constitute know- 
 ledge, a third element is supplied by understanding, in the con- 
 ceptions which give unity to this pure synthesis, and which con- 
 sist solely in the consciousness of this necessary synthetic unity. 
 
 The same function which gives unity to various ideas in a 
 judgment also gives unity to the mere synthesis of various ideas 
 in a perception ; and this synthesis, in its most general expres- 
 sion, is the pure conception of understanding. Understanding at 
 once gives analytic unity to conceptions, and synthetic unity 
 to the complex content of perception; and indeed the logical 
 form of judgment presupposes and rests upon the very same 
 acts of thought as those by which a transcendental content is 
 given to the various determinations of our consciousness. Hence 
 it is that the pure conceptions of understanding, as they are fitly 
 called, apply to objects a priori, and therefore do not fall within 
 the view of general logic. 
 
 In this way there arises exactly the same number of pure con- 
 ceptions of understanding, applying a priori to all objects of per- 
 ception, as there are logical functions of judgments in the preced- 
 ing table ; for those functions completely specify understanding, 
 and give a perfect measure of its powers. We shall call the pure 
 conceptions categories, after Aristotle, because our object is the 
 same as his, although our method and results are widely different. 
 
 TABLE OF CATEGORIES 
 
 i. Quantity. 
 
 Unity. 
 
 Plurality. 
 
 Totality. 
 
396 KANT 
 
 2. Quality. 3. Relation. 
 
 Reality. Inherence and Subsistence (sub- 
 
 stantia et accidens). 
 
 Negation. Causality and Dependence (cause 
 
 and effect). 
 
 Limitation. Community (reciprocity between 
 
 the active and the passive). 
 
 4. Modality. 
 
 Possibility Impossibility. 
 
 Existence Non-existence. 
 
 Necessity Contingency. 
 
 This, then, is a list of all the primary pure conceptions of 
 synthesis that understanding contains within itself a priori. 
 Because it contains these pure conceptions, it is called pure 
 understanding, and only by them can it understand anything 
 in the complex content of perception, that is, think an object. 
 The table has not been left to the uncertain suggestions of em- 
 pirical induction, but has been drawn up systematically, on the 
 basis of a single principle, namely, the faculty of judgment, or, 
 what is the same thing, the faculty of thought. 
 
 ii. 
 
 The table of categories suggests some nice points, which, 
 perhaps, might be found to have an important bearing on the 
 scientific form of all knowledge of reason, (i) The four classes 
 of categories naturally fall into two groups; those in the first 
 group being concerned with objects of perception, pure as well 
 as empirical, while those in the second group are concerned with 
 the existence of those objects, as related either to one another 
 or to understanding. The first may be called the mathematical, 
 the second the dynamical categories. The former, as is obvious, 
 have no correlates, the latter have correlates. This distinction 
 must have some ground in the nature of understanding. (2) It 
 is also suggestive that the number of categories in each class is 
 three, because usually all a priori division must be by dichotomy. 
 To this it must be added that the third category in each class 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 397 
 
 arises from the union of the second category with the first. Thus 
 totality or allness is just plurality regarded as unity, limitation 
 is reality combined with negation, community is causality in 
 which two substances mutually determine one another, and lastly, 
 necessity is just existence given by mere possibility itself. 
 
 CHAPTER II. DEDUCTION OF THE CATEGORIES 
 13. Principles of a Transcendental Deduction. 
 
 There is a distinction in law between the question of right 
 (quid juris) and the question of fact (quid facti). Both must be 
 proved, but proof of a right or claim is called its deduction. Now, 
 among the variety of conceptions that make up the very mixed 
 web of human knowledge, there are certain conceptions that put 
 in a claim for use entirely a priori, and this claim of course stands 
 in need of deduction. It is useless to refer to the fact of expe- 
 rience in justification of such a claim, but at the same time we 
 must know how conceptions can possibly refer to objects which 
 yet they do not derive from experience. An explanation of the 
 manner in which conceptions can relate a priori to objects, I 
 call a transcendental deduction ; and from it I distinguish an 
 empirical deduction, which simply tells us how a conception has 
 been acquired by experience and reflection on experience. The 
 former proves our right to the use of a certain conception, the 
 latter merely points out that as a matter of fact it has come into 
 our possession in a certain way. 
 
 The transcendental deduction of all a priori conceptions must 
 therefore be guided by the principle, that these conceptions must 
 be the a priori conditions of all possible experience. Concep- 
 tions which make experience possible are for that very reason 
 necessary. An analysis of the experience in which they occur 
 would not furnish a deduction of them, but merely an illustra- 
 tion of their use. Were they not the primary conditions of all the 
 experience in which objects are known as phenomena, their rela- 
 tion to even a single object would be utterly incomprehensible. 
 
398 KANT 
 
 Section II. A Priori Conditions of Experience. 1 
 
 If consciousness were broken up into a number of mutually 
 repellent states, each isolated and separated from the rest, 
 knowledge would never arise in us at all, for knowledge is a 
 whole of related and connected elements. When, therefore, I 
 call sensible perception a synopsis, in order to mark the com- 
 plexity of its content, it must be remembered that in this synop- 
 sis a certain synthesis is implied, and that knowledge is possible 
 only if spontaneity is combined with receptivity. This is the 
 reason why we must say that in all knowledge there is a three- 
 fold synthesis : firstly, the apprehension in perception of various 
 ideas, or modifications of the mind; secondly, their reproduction 
 in imagination; and, thirdly, their recognition in conception. 
 These three forms of synthesis point to three sources of know- 
 ledge, which make understanding itself possible, and through 
 it all experience as an empirical product of understanding. 
 
 i. Synthesis of Apprehension in Perception. 
 
 Whatever may be the origin of our ideas, whether they are due 
 to the influence of external things or are produced by internal 
 causes, whether as objects they have their source a priori or in 
 experience, as modifications of the mind they must belong to the 
 inner sense. All knowledge is, therefore, at bottom subject to time 
 as the formal condition of inner sense, and in time every part of 
 it without exception must be ordered, connected, and brought into 
 relation with every other part. This is a general remark, which 
 must be kept in mind in the whole of our subsequent inquiry. 
 
 We should not be conscious of the various determinations, 
 that every perception contains within itself were we not, in the 
 succession of our impressions, conscious of time. If each feel- 
 ing were limited to a single moment, it would be an absolutely 
 individual unit. In order that the various determinations of a 
 perception, as, for instance, the parts of a line, should form a 
 
 unity, it is necessary that they should be run over and held to- 
 
 *> * ,. .. ' * 
 
 1 All that comes under this heading is taken from the first edition of the Critique 
 of Pure Reason and forms what is called in the preface the "subjective deduction." 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 399 
 
 gether by the mind. This act I call the synthesis of apprehension. 
 It is apprehension, because it goes straight to perception; it is 
 synthesis, because only by synthesis can the various elements of 
 perception be united in one subject of consciousness. 
 
 Now, this synthesis of apprehension must be employed a 
 priori also, or in relation to determinations not given in sen- 
 sible experience. Otherwise we should have no consciousness 
 of space and time a priori, for these can be produced only by a 
 synthesis of the various determinations that are presented by 
 sensibility in its original receptivity. There is therefore a pure 
 synthesis of apprehension. 
 
 2. Synthesis oj Reproduction in Imagination. 
 
 There must be something which makes the reproduction of 
 phenomena possible at all, something which is the a priori ground 
 of a necessary synthetic unity. That this is so, we may at once 
 see, if we reflect that phenomena are not things in themselves, 
 but are merely the play of our own ideas, and therefore at bottom 
 determinations of the inner sense. Now, if we can show that 
 even our purest a priori perceptions can yield knowledge, only 
 in so far as they involve such a combination as makes a thorough- 
 going synthesis of reproduction possible, we may conclude that 
 this synthesis of imagination, being prior to all experience, rests 
 upon a priori principles. We must then assume a pure tran- 
 scendental synthesis as the necessary condition of all experience, 
 for experience is impossible unless phenomena are capable of 
 being reproduced. Now, if I draw a line in thought, or think 
 of the time from one day to another, or even think of a certain 
 number, it is plain that I must be conscious of the various deter- 
 minations one after the other. But if the earlier determinations 
 - the prior parts of the line, the antecedent moments of time, 
 the units as they arise one after the other were to drop out of 
 my consciousness, and could not be reproduced when I passed 
 on to the later determinations, I should never be conscious of a 
 whole; and hence not even the simplest and most elementary 
 idea of space or time could arise in my consciousness. 
 
400 KANT 
 
 The synthesis of reproduction is therefore inseparably bound 
 up with the synthesis of apprehension. And as the synthesis of 
 apprehension is the transcendental ground of the possibility of 
 all knowledge of pure a priori as well as empirical know- 
 ledge the reproductive synthesis of imagination belongs to 
 the transcendental functions of the mind, and may therefore be 
 called the transcendental faculty of imagination. 
 
 3. Synthesis oj Recognition in Conception. 
 
 There can be no knowledge without a conception, however 
 indefinite or obscure it may be, and a conception is in form 
 always a universal that serves as a rule. The conception of body, 
 for instance, as a unity of the various determinations thought in 
 it, serves as a rule in our knowledge of external phenomena. 
 Now, it is always a transcendental condition that lies at the 
 foundation of that which is necessary. There must, therefore, 
 be a transcendental ground of the unity of consciousness in 
 the synthesis of the various determinations implied in every 
 perception ; and this ground must be -necessary to the concep- 
 tion of any object whatever, and therefore to the conception of 
 every object of experience. In no other way can there be any 
 object for our perceptions; for the object is nothing but that 
 something = x, the conception of which involves necessity of 
 synthesis. 
 
 No knowledge whatever, no unity and connection of objects, 
 is possible for us, apart from that unity of consciousness which 
 is prior to all data of perception, and without relation to which 
 no consciousness of objects is possible. This pure, original, 
 unchangeable consciousness I call transcendental apperception. 
 That this is the proper name for it is evident, were it only that 
 even the purest objective unity, that of the a priori conceptions 
 of space and time, is possible only in so far as perceptions are 
 related to it. The numerical unity of this apperception is, there- 
 fore, just as much the a priori foundation of all conceptions as 
 the various determinations of space and time are the a priori 
 foundation of the perceptions of sense. 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 401 
 
 It is this transcendental unity of apperception which connects 
 all the possible phenomena that can be gathered together in one 
 experience, and subjects them to laws. There could be no such 
 unity of consciousness were the mind not able to be conscious of 
 the identity of function, by which it unites various phenomena 
 in one knowledge. The original and necessary consciousness of 
 the identity of oneself is at the same time the consciousness of a 
 necessary unity in the synthesis of all phenomena according to 
 conceptions. These conceptions are necessary rules, which not 
 only make phenomena capable of reproduction, but determine 
 perception as perception of an object, that is, bring it under a 
 conception of something in which various determinations are 
 necessarily connected together. It would be impossible for the 
 mind to think itself as identical in its various determinations, 
 and indeed to think that identity a priori, if it did not hold the 
 identity of its own act before its eyes, and if it did not, by sub- 
 jecting to a transcendental unity all the synthesis of empirical 
 apprehension, make the connection of the various determina- 
 tions implied in that synthesis possible in accordance with a 
 priori rules. 
 
 1 6. The Original Synthetic Unity 0} Apperception. 1 
 
 The "I think" must be capable of accompanying all my ideas; 
 for, otherwise, I should be conscious of something that could 
 not be thought ; which is the same as saying, that I should not 
 be conscious at all, or at least should be conscious only of that 
 which for me was nothing. Now, that form of consciousness 
 which is prior to all thought, is perception. Hence, all the mani- 
 fold determinations of perception have a necessary relation to 
 the "/ think" in the subject that is conscious of them. The "/ 
 think," however, is an act of spontaneity, which cannot possibly 
 be due to sense. I call it pure apperception, to distinguish it from 
 empirical apperception. I call it also the original apperception, 
 because it is the self- consciousness which produces the "/ think" 
 Now, the "/ think" must be capable of accompanying all other 
 
 1 What follows (16-27) constitutes the "objective deduction" of the cate- 
 gories, as it appears in the second edition of the Critique. 
 
402 KANT 
 
 ideas, and it is one and the same in all consciousness ; but there 
 is- no other idea beyond the "7 think" to which self-conscious- 
 ness is bound in a similar way. The unity of apperception I call 
 also the transcendental unity of self-consciousness, to indicate 
 that upon it depends the possibility of a priori knowledge. For, 
 the various determinations given in a certain perception would 
 not all be in my consciousness, if they did not all belong to one 
 self-consciousness. True, I may not be aware of this, but yet 
 as they are determinations of my consciousness, they must ne-~ 
 cessarily conform to the condition, without which they are not 
 capable of standing together in one universal self-consciousness. 
 In no other way would they all without exception be mine. From 
 this original combination important consequences follow. 
 
 The absolute identity of apperception in relation to all the 
 determinations given in perception, involves a synthesis of those 
 determinations, and is possible only through consciousness of 
 the synthesis. For, the empirical consciousness, which accompa- 
 nies each determination as it arises, is in itself broken up into 
 units, and is unrelated to the one identical subject. Relation to 
 a single subject does not take place when I accompany each 
 determination with consciousness, but only when I add one de- 
 termination to the other, and am conscious of this act of synthesis. 
 It is only because I am capable of combining in one consciousness 
 the various determinations presented to me, that I can become 
 aware that in every one of them the consciousness is the s*ame. 
 The analytic unity of apperception is, therefore, possible only 
 under presupposition of a certain synthetic unity. The thought, 
 that the determinations given in a perception all belong to me, 
 is the same as the thought, that I unite them, or at least that I 
 am capable of uniting them in one self-consciousness. This does 
 not of itself involve a consciousness of the synthesis of determi- 
 nations, but it presupposes the possibility of that consciousness. 
 It is only because I am capable of grasping the various determi- 
 nations in one consciousness, that I can call them all mine ; were 
 it not so, I should have a self as many-coloured and various as 
 the separate determinations of which I am conscious. Synthetic 
 unity of the various determinations of perception as given a 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 403 
 
 priori, is therefore the ground of that identity of apperception 
 itself, which precedes a priori every definite act of thought. 
 Now, objects cannot combine themselves, nor can understand- 
 ing learn that they are combined by observing their combination. 
 All combination is the work of understanding, and in fact under- 
 standing is itself nothing but the faculty of combining a priori, 
 and bringing under the unity of apperception, the various deter- 
 minations given in perception. The unity of apperception is, 
 -therefore, the supreme principle of all our knowledge. 
 
 20. All Sensuous Perceptions stand under the Categories as Con- 
 ditions under which alone their Various Determinations can 
 come together in one Consciousness. 
 
 The various determinations given in a sensuous perception 
 stand under the original synthetic unity of apperception, because 
 in no way could there possibly be any unity of perception. But 
 that act of understanding, by which the determinations given in 
 consciousness, whether these are perceptions or conceptions, are 
 brought under a single apperception, is the logical function of 
 the judgment. Hence, all the elements given in an empirical 
 perception are determined by one of the logical functions of 
 judgment, and thus brought into one consciousness. But the 
 categories are just the functions of judgment, in so far as these 
 are applied in determination of the various elements of a given 
 perception. Therefore, the various determinations in a given 
 perception necessarily stand under the categories. 
 
 22. The Category has no Other Application in Knowledge than 
 to Objects of Experience. 
 
 TQ think an object is not the same thing as to know it. Know- 
 ledge involves two elements : firstly, the conception or category, 
 by which an object in general is thought ; secondly, the percep- 
 tion by which it is given. If no perception could be given, corre- 
 sponding to the conception, I should no doubt be able to think 
 an object so far as its form was concerned, but as there would be 
 no object in which that form was realized, I could not possibly 
 
404 KANT 
 
 have knowledge of any actual thing. So far as I could know, 
 there would be nothing, and could be nothing, to which my thought 
 might be applied. Now, the Esthetic has shown to us that all 
 the perception that we can have is sensuous ; hence the thought 
 of an object in general, by means of a pure conception of un- 
 derstanding, can become knowledge, only by being brought into 
 relation with objects of sense. Sensuous perception is either the 
 pure perception of space and time, or the empirical perception of 
 that which is directly presented through sensation as actually in 
 space and time. By the determination of space and time them- 
 selves, we can obtain that a priori knowledge of objects which 
 mathematics supplies. But this knowledge is only of the form 
 of phenomena, and it is still doubtful if actual things must be 
 perceived in this form. Mathematical conceptions, therefore, 
 can be called knowledge, only if it is presupposed that there are 
 actual things which cannot be presented to us except under the 
 form of that pure sensuous perception. Now, things in space 
 and time are given to us only through empirical observation, 
 that is, in perceptions that are accompanied by sensation. Hence, 
 the pure conceptions of understanding, even if they are applied 
 to a priori perceptions, as in mathematics, do not yield a know- 
 ledge of things. Before there can be any knowledge, the pure 
 perceptions, and the conceptions of understanding through the 
 medium of pure perceptions, must be applied to empirical per- 
 ceptions. The categories, therefore, give us no knowledge of 
 actual things, even with the aid of perception, except in so 
 far as they are capable of being applied to empirical perception. 
 In other words, they are merely conditions of the possibility of 
 empirical knowledge. Now, such knowledge is called experience. 
 Hence the categories have a share in the knowledge of those 
 things only that are objects of possible experience. 
 
 27. Result of the Deduction oj the Categories. 
 
 We cannot think an object without categories; we cannot 
 know an object so thought without perceptions that correspond 
 to categories. Now, all our perceptions are sensuous, and there- 
 fore all our knowledge of objects that are presented in percep- 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 405 
 
 tion is empirical. But empirical knowledge is experience. Henc*e 
 there can be no a priori knowledge, except of objects that are 
 capable of entering into experience. 
 
 But although such knowledge is limited to objects of expe- 
 rience, it is not therefore altogether derived from experience. 
 For pure perceptions as well as pure conceptions are elements 
 in knowledge, and both are found in us a priori. There are only 
 two ways in which we can account for a necessary coincidence 
 of the data of experience with the conceptions which we form 
 of its objects : either that experience must make the conceptions 
 possible, or the conceptions must make experience possible. 
 The former supposition is inconsistent with the nature of the 
 categories, not to speak of pure sensuous perception; for the 
 categories, as a priori conceptions, are independent of expe- 
 rience, and to derive them from experience would be a sort of 
 generatio aequivoca. The alternative supposition, which involves 
 what may be called an epigehesis of pure reason, must therefore 
 be adopted, and we must hold that the categories, as proceeding 
 from understanding, contain the grounds of the possibility of 
 any experience whatever. 
 
 Short Statement of the Deduction. 
 
 What has been shown in the deduction of the categories is 
 that the pure conceptions of understanding, on which all theo- 
 retical a priori knowledge is based, are principles that make 
 experience possible. In other words, they are principles^fdr the 
 general determination of phenomena in space and time, a deter- 
 mination that ultimately flows from the principle of the original . 
 synthetic unity of apperception as the form of understanding 
 in relation to space and time, the original forms of sensibility. 
 
THE CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON* 
 
 [Continued'] 
 
 Translated from the German by 
 F. MAX MULLER 
 
 BOOK II. ANALYTIC OF PRINCIPLES 
 
 INTRODUCTION. OF THE TRANSCENDENTAL 
 FACULTY OF JUDGMENT 
 
 IF the understanding is explained as the faculty of rules, the 
 faculty of judgment consists in performing the subsumption 
 under these rules, that is, in determining whether anything falls 
 under a given rule (casus datae legis) or not. General logic con- 
 tains no precepts for the faculty of judgment and cannot contain 
 them. For as it takes no account of the contents of our know- 
 ledge, it has only to explain analytically the mere form of 
 knowledge in concepts, judgments, and syllogisms, and thus to 
 establish formal rules for the proper employment of the under- 
 standing. . . . But although general logic can give no precepts 
 to the faculty of judgment, the case is quite different with tran- 
 scendental logic, so that it even seems as if it were the proper 
 business of the latter to correct and to establish by definite 
 rules the faculty of the judgment in the use of the pure under- 
 standing. . . . 
 
 What distinguishes transcendental philosophy is, that besides 
 giving the rules (or rather the general condition of rules) which 
 are contained in the pure concept of the understanding, it can 
 at the same time indicate a priori the case to which each rule 
 may be applied. The superiority which it enjoys in this respect 
 over all other sciences, except mathematics, is due to this, that it 
 treats of concepts which are meant to refer to their objects a pri- 
 ori, so that their objective validity cannot be proved a posteriori. 
 
 * Reprinted from Immanuel Kant's Critique of Pure Reason, translated by 
 F. Max Miiller, London, Macmillan & Co. Ltd., 1881, vol. ii. 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 407 
 
 Our transcendental doctrine of the faculty of judgment will 
 consist of two chapters. The first will treat of the sensuous con- 
 dition under which alone pure concepts of the understanding 
 can be used. This is what I call the schematism of the pure 
 understanding. The second will treat of the synthetical judg- 
 ments, which can be derived a priori under these conditions 
 from pure concepts of the understanding, and on which all 
 knowledge a priori depends. It will treat, therefore, of the prin- 
 ciples of the pure understanding. 
 
 CHAPTER I. THE SCHEMATISM OF THE PURE 
 
 CONCEPTS 
 
 In comprehending any object under a concept, the representa- 
 tion of the former must be homogeneous with the latter, that is, 
 the concept must contain that which is represented in the object 
 to be comprehended under it, for this is the only meaning of 
 the expression that an object is comprehended under a con- 
 cept. Thus, for instance, the empirical concept of a plate is 
 homogeneous with the pure geometrical concept of a circle, the 
 roundness which is conceived in the first forming an object of 
 intuition in the latter. 
 
 Now it is clear that pure concepts of the understanding, as 
 compared with empirical or sensuous impressions in general, 
 are entirely heterogeneous, and can never be met with in any 
 intuition. How then can the latter be comprehended under the 
 former, or how can the categories be applied to phenomena, 
 as no one is likely to say that causality, for instance, could be 
 seen through the senses, and was contained in the phenomenon ? 
 It is really this very natural and important question which ren- 
 ders a transcendental doctrine of the faculty of judgment neces- 
 sary, in order to show how it is possible that any of the pure 
 concepts of the understanding can be applied to phenomena. 
 In all other sciences in which the concepts by which the object 
 is thought in general are not so heterogeneous or different from 
 '.hose which represent it in concrete, and as it is given, there is 
 
4 o8 KANT 
 
 no necessity to enter into any discussions as to the applicability 
 of the former to the latter. 
 
 In our case there must be some third thing homogeneous on 
 the one side with the category, and on the other with the phe- 
 nomenon, to render the application of the former to the latter 
 possible. This intermediate representation must be pure (free 
 from all that is empirical) and yet intelligible on the one side, 
 and sensuous on the other. Such a representation is the tran- 
 scendental schema. 
 
 The concept of the understanding contains pure synthetical 
 unity of the manifold in general. Time, as the formal condition 
 of the manifold in the internal sense, consequently of the con- 
 junction of all representations, contains a manifold a priori in 
 pure intuition. A transcendental determination of time is so 
 far homogeneous with the category (which constitutes its unity) 
 that it is general and founded on a rule a priori ; and it is on the 
 other hand so far homogeneous with the phenomenon, that time 
 must be contained in every empirical representation of the mani- 
 fold. The application of the category to phenomena becomes 
 possible therefore by means of the transcendental determina- 
 tion of time, which, as a schema of the concepts of the under- 
 standing, allows the phenomena to be comprehended under 
 the category. 
 
 CHAPTER II. PRINCIPLES OF THE PURE UN- 
 DERSTANDING 
 
 We have in the preceding chapter considered the transcen- 
 dental faculty of judgment with reference to those general con- 
 ditions only under which it is justified in using the pure con- 
 cepts of the understanding for synthetical judgments. It now 
 becomes our duty to represent systematically those judgments 
 which, under that critical provision, the understanding can 
 really produce a priori. For this purpose our table of categories 
 will be without doubt our natural and best guide. . . . 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 409 
 
 All principles of the pure understanding are therefore, 
 
 i 
 
 Axioms of Intuition. 
 II III 
 
 Anticipations of Analogies of 
 
 Perception. Experience. 
 
 IV 
 
 Postulates of Empirical 
 Thought in General. 
 
 
 
 I. AXIOMS OF INTUITION 
 
 Their principle is: All intuitions are extensive quantities. 1 
 I call an extensive quantity that in which the representation 
 of the whole is rendered possible by the representation of its 
 parts, and therefore necessarily preceded by it. I cannot repre- 
 sent to myself any line, however small it may be, without draw- 
 ing it in thought, that is, without producing all its parts one after 
 the other, starting from a given point, and thus, first of all, 
 drawing its intuition. The same applies to every, even the small- 
 est portion of time. I can only think in it the successive progress 
 from one moment to another, thus producing in the end, by all 
 portions of time and their addition, a definite quantity of time. 
 As in all phenomena pure intuition is either space or time, every 
 phenomenon, as an intuition, must be an extensive quantity, 
 because it can be known in apprehension by a successive syn- 
 thesis only (of part with part). All phenomena therefore, when 
 perceived in intuition, are aggregates (collections) of previously 
 given parts, which is not the case with every kind of quantities, 
 but with those only which are represented to us and apprehended 
 as extensive. 
 
 On this successive synthesis of productive imagination in 
 elaborating figures are founded the mathematics of extension 
 with their axioms (geometry), containing the conditions of sen- 
 
 1 The titles and the statements of the principles of the pure understanding are 
 taken from the second edition. 
 
4 io KANT 
 
 suous intuition a priori, under which alone the schema of a pure 
 concept of an external phenomenal appearance can be produced ; 
 for instance, between two points one straight line only is possible, 
 or two straight lines cannot enclose a space, etc. These are the 
 axioms which properly relate only to quantities (quanta) as such. 
 This transcendental principle of phenomenal mathematics 
 adds considerably to our knowledge a priori. Through it alone 
 it becomes possible to make pure mathematics in their full pre- 
 cision applicable to objects of experience, which without that 
 principle would by no means be self-evident, nay, has actually 
 provoked much contradiction. Phenomena are not things in 
 themselves. Empirical intuition is possible only through pure 
 intuition (of space and time), and whatever geometry says of 
 the latter is valid without contradiction of the former. ... If 
 phenomena were, however, things in themselves nothing could 
 be known of them a priori, nothing could be known synthetically 
 through pure concepts of space, and the science which deter- 
 mines these concepts, namely, geometry, would itself become 
 impossible. 
 
 II. ANTICIPATIONS OF PERCEPTION 
 
 Their principle is : In all phenomena, the Real, which is the 
 object of a sensation, has intensive quantity, that is a degree. 
 
 Apprehension, by means of sensation only, fills no more than 
 one moment (if we do not take into account the succession of 
 many sensations). Sensation, therefore, being that in the phe- 
 nomenon the apprehension of which does not form a successive 
 synthesis progressing from parts to a complete representation, 
 is without any extensive quantity, and the absence of sensation 
 in one and the same moment would represent it as empty, there- 
 fore = o. What corresponds in every empirical intuition to sen- 
 sation is reality (realitas phaenomenon), what corresponds to its 
 absence is negation = o. Every sensation, however, is capable 
 of diminution, so that it may decrease, and gradually vanish. 
 There is therefore a continuous connection between reality in 
 phenomena and negation, by means of many possible inter- 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 411 
 
 mediate sensations, the difference between which is always 
 smaller than the difference between the given sensation and zero 
 or complete negation. It thus follows that the real ir^each phe- 
 nomenon has always Ji^uaiitity, though it is not perceived in 
 apprehension, because apprehension takes place by a momen- 
 tary sensation, not by a successive synthesis of many sensations ; 
 it does not advance from the parts to the whole, and though it 
 has a quantity, it has not an extensive quantity. 
 
 That quantity which can be apprehended as unity only, and 
 in which plurality can be represented by approximation only to 
 negation = o, I call intensive quantity. Every reality therefore 
 in a phenomenon has intensive quantity, that is, a degree. . . . 
 
 III. ANALOGIES or EXPERIENCE 
 
 Their principle is : Experience is possible only through the 
 representation of a necessary connection of perceptions. 
 
 The three modi of time are permanence, succession, and co- 
 existence. There will therefore be three rules of all relations of 
 phenomena in time, by which the existence of every phenomenon 
 with regard to the unity of time is determined, and these rules 
 will precede all experience, nay, render experience possible. 
 
 The general principle of the three analogies depends on the 
 necessary unity of apperception with reference to every possible 
 empirical consciousness (perception) at every time, and, conse- 
 quently, as that unity forms an a priori ground, on the syntheti- 
 cal unity of all phenomena, according to their relation in time. 
 For the original apperception refers to the internal sense (com- 
 prehending all representations), and it does so a priori to its 
 form, that is, to the relation of the manifold of the empirical 
 consciousness in time. The original apperception is intended 
 to combine all this manifold according to its relations in time, 
 for this is what is meant by its transcendental unity a priori, 
 to which all is subject which is to belong to my own and my 
 uniform knowledge, and thus to become an object for me. This 
 synthetical unity in the time relations of all perceptions, which 
 is determined a priori, is expressed therefore in the law, that all 
 
4 i2 KANT 
 
 empirical determinations of time must be subject to rules of the 
 general determination of time ; and the analogies of experience, of 
 which we are now going to treat, are exactly rules of this kind. 
 
 These principles have this peculiarity, that they do not refer 
 to phenomena and the synthesis of their empirical intuition, but 
 only to the existence of phenomena and their mutual relation 
 with regard to their existence. The manner in which something 
 is apprehended as a phenomenon may be so determined a priori 
 that the rule of its synthesis may give at the same time this in- 
 tuition a priori in any empirical case, nay, may really render it 
 possible. But the existence of phenomena can never be known 
 a priori, and though we might be led in this way to infer some 
 kind of existence, we should never be able to know it definitely, 
 or to anticipate that by which the empirical intuition of one 
 differs from that of others. 
 
 A. First Analogy. Principle of the Permanence of Substance. 
 
 In all changes of phenomena the substance is permanent, and 
 its guantum is neither increased or diminished in nature. 
 
 PROOF 
 
 Our apprehension of the manifold of phenomena is always 
 successive, and therefore always changing. By it alone there- 
 fore we can never determine whether the manifold, as an object 
 of experience, is coexistent or successive, unless there is some- 
 thing in it which exists always, that is, something constant and 
 permanent, while change and succession are nothing but so 
 many kinds (modi) of time in which the permanent exists. Re- 
 lations of time are therefore possible in the permanent only 
 (coexistence and succession being the only relations of time) 
 so that the permanent is the substratum of the empirical repre- 
 sentation of time itself, and in it alone all determination of time 
 is possible. Permanence expresses time as the constant correla- 
 tive of all existence of phenomena, of all change and concomi- 
 tancy. For change does not affect time itself, but only pheno- 
 mena in time (nor is coexistence a mode of time itself, because 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 413 
 
 in it no parts can be coexistent, but successive only). If we were 
 to ascribe a succession to time itself, it would be necessary to 
 admit another time in which such succession should be possible. 
 Dnly through the permanent does existence in different parts of 
 a series of time assume a quantity which we call duration. For 
 in mere succession existence always comes and goes, and never 
 assumes the slightest quantity. Without something permanent 
 therefore no relation of time is possible. Time, by itself, how- 
 ever, cannot be perceived, and it is therefore the permanent in 
 phenomena that forms the substratum for all determination of 
 time, and at the same time the condition of the possibility of all 
 synthetical unity of perceptions, that is, of experience; while 
 with regard to that permanent all existence and all change in 
 time can only be taken as a mode of existence of what is 
 permanent. In all phenomena therefore the permanent is the 
 object itself, that is, the substance (phenomenon), while all that 
 changes or can change belongs only to the mode in which sub- 
 stance or substances exist, therefore to their determinations. 
 
 B. Second Analogy. Principle o) the Succession of Time. 
 
 All changes take place according to the law of connection of 
 cause and effect. 
 
 PROOF 
 
 This rule, by which we determine everything according to the 
 succession of time, is this : the condition under which an event 
 follows at all times (necessarily) is to be found in what precedes. 
 All possible experience therefore, that is, all objective know- 
 ledge of phenomena with regard to their relation in the succes- 
 sion of time, depends on "the principle of sufficient reason." 
 
 The proof of this principle rests entirely on the following con- 
 siderations. All empirical knowledge requires synthesis of the 
 manifold by imagination, which is always successive, one repre- 
 sentation following upon the other. That succession, however, 
 in the imagination is not at all determined with regard to the 
 order in which something precedes and something follows, and 
 
4 i4 KANT 
 
 the series of successive representations may be taken as retro- 
 gressive as well as progressive- If that synthesis, however, is a 
 synthesis of apperception (of the manifold in a given phenome- 
 non), then the order is determined in the object, or, to speak 
 more accurately, there is then in it an order of successive syn- 
 thesis which determines the object, and according to which some- 
 thing must necessarily precede, and, when it is once there, some- 
 thing else must necessarily follow. If therefore my perception 
 is to contain the knowledge of an event, or something that really 
 happens, it must consist of an empirical judgment, by which 
 the succession is supposed to be determined, so that the event 
 presupposes another phenomenon in time on which it follows 
 necessarily and according to a rule. If it were different, if the 
 antecedent phenomenon were there, and the event did not fol- 
 low on it necessarily, it would become to me a mere play of my 
 subjective imaginations, or if I thought it to be objective, I should 
 call it a dream. It is therefore the relation of phenomena (as 
 possible perceptions) according to which the existence of the 
 subsequent (what happens) is determined in time by something 
 antecedent necessarily and by rule, or, in other words, the rela- 
 tion of cause and effect, which forms the condition of the ob- 
 jective validity of our empirical judgments with regard to the 
 series of perceptions, and therefore also the condition of the em- 
 pirical truth of them, and of experience. The principle of the 
 causal relation in the succession of phenomena is valid therefore 
 for all objects of experience, also (under the conditions of suc- 
 cession), because that principle is itself the ground of the pos- 
 sibility of such experience. 
 
 C. Third Analogy. Principle of Community. 
 
 All substances in so far as they can be perceived as coexistent 
 in space, are always affecting each other reciprocally. 
 
 PROOF 
 
 Things are coexistent in so far as they exist at one and the same 
 time. But how can we know that they exist at one and the same 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON ,415 
 
 time ? Only if the order in the synthesis of apprehension of the 
 manifold is indifferent, that is, if I may advance from A through 
 B, C, D, to E, or contrariwise from E to A. For, if the synthesis 
 were successive in time (in the order beginning with A and ending 
 with E), it would be impossible to begin the apprehension with 
 the perception of E and to go backwards to A, because A belongs 
 to past time, and can no longer be an object of apprehension. 
 
 If we supposed it possible that 'in a number of substances, as 
 phenomena, each were perfectly isolated, so that none influenced 
 another or received influences from another, then the coexistence 
 of them could never become an object of possible perception, 
 nor could the existence of the one through any process of 
 empirical synthesis lead us on to the existence of another. For 
 if we imagined that they were separated by a perfectly empty 
 space, a perception, proceeding from the one in time to the other 
 might no doubt determine the existence of it by means of a subse- 
 quent perception, but would never be able to determine whether 
 that phenomenon followed objectively on the other or was coex- 
 istent with it. 
 
 There must therefore be something besides their mere exist- 
 ence by which A determines its place in time for B, and B for 
 A, because thus only can these two substances be represented 
 empirically as coexistent. Nothing, however, can determine the 
 place of anything else in time, except that which is its cause 
 or the cause of its determinations. Therefore every substance 
 (since it can be effect with regard to its determinations only) 
 must contain in itself the causality of certain determinations in 
 another substance, and, at the same time, the effects of the caus- 
 ality of that other substance, that is, substances miist stand in dy- 
 namical communion, immediately or mediately, with each other, 
 if their coexistence is to be known in any possible experience. 
 Everything without which the experience of any objects would be 
 impossible, may be said to be necessary with reference to such 
 objects of experience ; from which it follows that it is necessary 
 for all substances, so far as they are coexistent as phenomena, to 
 stand in a complete communion of reciprocity with each other. 
 
4 i 6 KANT 
 
 These are the three analogies of experience. They are nothing 
 but principles for determining the existence of phenomena in 
 time, according to its three modes. First, the relation of time 
 itself, as to a quantity (quantity of existence, that is duration). 
 Secondly, the relation in time, as in a series (successively). And 
 thirdly, likewise in time, as the whole of all existence (simulta- 
 neously). This unity in the determination of time is dynamical 
 only, that is, time is not looketi upon as that in which experience 
 assigns immediately its place to every existence, for this would 
 be impossible ; because absolute time is no object of perception 
 by which phenomena could be held together ; but the rule of the 
 understanding through which alone the existence of phenomena 
 can receive synthetical unity in time determines the place of each 
 of them in time, therefore a priori and as valid for all time. 
 
 By nature (in the empirical sense of the word) we mean the 
 coherence of phenomena in their existence, according to neces- 
 sary rules, that is, laws. There are therefore certain laws, and 
 they exist a priori, which themselves make nature possible, while 
 the empirical laws exist and are discovered through experience, 
 but in accordance with those original laws which first render 
 experience possible. Our analogies therefore represent the unity 
 of nature in the coherence of all phenomena, under certain 
 exponents, which express the relation of time (as comprehend- 
 ing all existence) to the unity of apperception, which appercep- 
 tion can only take place in the synthesis according to rules. 
 The three analogies, therefore, simply say, that all phenomena 
 exist in one nature, and must so exist because, without such 
 unity a priori no unity of experience, and therefore no determi- 
 nation of objects in experience, would be possible. 
 
 IV. POSTULATES OF ALL EMPIRICAL THOUGHT 
 
 1. What agrees with the formal conditions of experience (in 
 intuition and in concepts) is possible. 
 
 2. What is connected with the material conditions of experience 
 (sensation) is real. 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 417 
 
 3. That which, in its connection with the real, is determined 
 by universal conditions o) experience, is (exists as) necessary. 
 
 Explanation. 
 
 The categories of modality have this peculiar character, that, 
 as determining an object, they do not enlarge in the least the con- 
 cept to which they are attached as predicates, but express only 
 a relation to our faculty of knowledge. Even when the concept 
 of a thing is quite complete, I can still ask with reference to that 
 object, whether it is possible only, or real also, and, if the latter, 
 whether it is necessary? No new determinations of the object 
 are thereby conceived, but it is only asked in what relation it 
 (with all its determinations) stands to the understanding and its 
 empirical employment, to the empirical faculty of judgment, and 
 to reason, in its application to experience. 
 
 (i) The postulate of the possibility of things demands that 
 the concept of these should agree with the formal conditions of 
 experience in general. Tfeis, the objective form of experience in 
 general, contains all synthesis which is required for a knowledge 
 of objects. A concept is to be considered as empty, and as refer- 
 ring to no object, if the synthesis which it contains does not be- 
 long to experience, whether as borrowed from it (in which case it 
 is called an empirical concept), or as a synthesis on which, as a 
 condition a priori, all experience (in its form) depends, in which 
 case it is a pure concept, but yet belonging to experience, because 
 its object can only be found in it. For whence could the character 
 of the possibility of an object, which can be conceived by a 
 synthetical concept a priori, be derived, except from the syn- 
 thesis which constitutes the form of all empirical knowledge of 
 objects ? It is no doubt a necessary logical condition, that such a 
 concept must contain nothing contradictory, but this is by no 
 means sufficient to establish the objective reality of a concept, 
 that is, the possibility of such an object, as is conceived by a 
 concept. Thus in the concept of a figure to be enclosed be- 
 tween two straight lines, there is nothing contradictory, because 
 the concepts of two straight lines and their meeting contain 
 
4 i8 KANT 
 
 no negation of a figure. The impossibility depends, not on 
 the concept itself, but on its construction in space, that is, the 
 conditions of space and its determinations, and it is these that 
 have objective reality, or apply to possible things, because they 
 contain in themselves the form of experience in general a 
 priori. 
 
 (2) The postulate concerning our knowledge of the reality 
 of things, requires perception, therefore sensation and conscious- 
 ness of it, not indeed immediately of the object itself, the exist- 
 ence of which is to be known, but yet of a connection between it 
 and some real perception, according to the analogies of experi- 
 ence which determine in general all real combinations in expe- 
 rience. 
 
 In the mere concept of a thing no sign of its existence can be 
 discovered. For though the concept be ever so perfect, so that 
 nothing should be wanting in it to enable us to conceive the 
 thing with all its own determinations, existence has nothing to 
 do with all this. It depends only on thfe question whether such a 
 thing be given us, so that its perception may even precede its 
 concept. A concept preceding experience implies its possibility 
 only, while perception, which supplies the material of a concept, 
 is the only characteristic of reality. It is possible, however, even 
 before the perception of a thing, and therefore, in a certain sense, 
 a priori, to know its existence, provided it hang together with 
 some other perceptions, according to the principles of their em- 
 pirical connection (analogies). For in that case the existence of 
 a thing hangs together at least with our perceptions in a possible 
 experience, and guided by our analogies we can, starting from 
 our real experience, arrive at some other thing in the series of 
 possible perceptions. Thus we know the existence of some mag- 
 netic matter pervading all bodies from the perception of the 
 attracted iron filings, though our organs are so constituted as to 
 render an immediate perception of that matter impossible. Ac- 
 cording to the laws of sensibility and the texture of our percep- 
 tions, we ought in our experience to arrive at an immediate 
 empirical intuition of that magnetic matter, if only our senses 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 4 ! 9 
 
 were more acute, for their actual obtuseness does not concern 
 the form of possible experience. Wherever, therefore, percep- 
 tion and its train can reach, according to empirical laws, there 
 our knowledge also of the existence of things can reach. But 
 if we do not begin with experience, or do not proceed according 
 to the laws of the empirical connection of phenomena, we are 
 only making a vain display, as if we could guess and discover 
 the existence of anything. 
 
 (3) With reference to the third postulate we find that it refers 
 to the material necessity in existence, and not to the merely 
 formal and logical necessity in the connection of concepts. As 
 it is impossible that the existence of the objects of the senses 
 should ever be known entirely a priori, though it may be known 
 to a certain extent a priori, namely, with reference to another 
 already given existence, and as even in that case we can only 
 arrive at such an existence as must somewhere be contained in 
 the whole of the experience of which the given perception forms 
 a part, it follows that the necessity of existence can never be 
 known from concepts, but only according to the general rules of 
 experience from the connection always with what is actually per- 
 ceived. Now, there is no existence that can be known as neces- 
 sary under the condition of other given phenomena, except the 
 existence of effects from given causes, according to the laws of 
 causality. It is not therefore the existence of things (substances), 
 but the existence of their state, of which alone we can know the 
 necessity, and this from other states only, which are given in 
 perception, and according to the empirical laws of causality. 
 Hence it follows that the criterium of necessity can only be 
 found in the law of possible experience, viz. that everything that 
 happens is determined a priori by its cause in phenomena. We 
 therefore know in nature the necessity of those effects only of 
 which the causes are given, and the character of necessity in 
 existence never goes beyond the field of possible experience, 
 and even there it does not apply to the existence of things, as 
 substances, because such substances can never be looked upon 
 as empirical effects or as something that happens and arises. 
 Necessity, therefore, affects only the relations of phenomena 
 
420 KANT 
 
 according to the dynamical law of causality, and the possibility, 
 dependent upon it, of concluding a priori from a given existence 
 (of a cause) to another existence (that of an effect). . . . 
 
 CHAPTER III. DISTINCTION OF PHENOMENA 
 AND NOUMENA 
 
 We have now not only traversed the whole domain of the pure 
 understanding, and carefully examined each part of it, but we 
 have also measured its extent, and assigned to everything in it 
 its proper place. This domain, however, is an island and en- 
 closed by nature itself within limits that can never be changed. 
 It is the country of truth (a very attractive name), but surrounded 
 by a wide and stormy ocean, the true home of illusion, where 
 many a fog bank and ice that soon melts away tempt us to be- 
 lieve in new lands, while constantly deceiving the adventurous 
 mariner with vain hopes, and involving him in adventures which 
 he can never leave, and yet can never bring to an end. Before 
 we venture ourselves on this sea, in order to explore it on every 
 side, and to find out whether anything is to be hoped for there, it 
 will be useful to glance once more at the map of that country 
 which we are about to leave, and to ask ourselves, first, whether 
 we might not be content with what it contains, nay, whether we 
 must not be content with it, supposing that there is no solid 
 ground anywhere else on which we could settle; secondly, by 
 what title we possess even that domain, and may consider our- 
 selves safe against all hostile claims. Although we have suffi- 
 ciently answered these questions in the course of the analytic, a 
 summary recapitulation of their solutions may help to strengthen 
 our conviction, by uniting all arguments in one point. 
 
 We have seen that the understanding possesses everything 
 which it draws from itself, without borrowing from experience, 
 for no other purpose but for experience. The principles of the 
 pure understanding, whether constitutive a priori (as the mathe- 
 matical) or simply relative (as the dynamical), contain nothing 
 but, as it were, the pure schema of possible experience ; for that 
 experience derives its unity from that synthetical unity alone 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 421 
 
 which the understanding originally and spontaneously imparts 
 to the synthesis of imagination, with reference to apperception, 
 and to which all phenomena, as data of a possible knowledge, 
 must conform a priori. . . . 
 
 That the understanding cannot make any but an empirical, 
 and never a transcendental, use of air its principles a priori, 
 nay, of all its concepts, is a proposition which, if thoroughly 
 understood, leads indeed to most important consequences. What 
 we call the transcendental use of a concept in any proposition 
 is its being referred to things in general and to things by them- 
 selves, while its empirical use refers to phenomena only, that is, 
 to objects of a possible experience. That the latter use alone 
 is admissible will be clear from the following considerations. 
 What is required for every concept is, first, the logical form of 
 a concept (of thought) in general ; and, secondly, the possibility 
 of an object to which it refers. Without the latter, it has no 
 sense, and is entirely empty, though it may still contain the 
 logical function by which a concept can be formed out of any 
 data. The only way in which an object can be given to a con- 
 cept is in intuition, and though a pure intuition is possible a 
 priori and before the object, yet even that pure intuition can 
 receive its object, and with it its objective validity, by an empiri- 
 cal intuition only, of which it is itself nothing but the form. All 
 concepts, therefore, and with them all principles, though they 
 may be possible a priori, refer nevertheless to empirical intui- 
 tions, that is, to data of a possible experience. Without this, 
 they can claim no objective validity, but are a mere play, whether 
 of the imagination or of the understanding, with their respective 
 representations. . . . 
 
 From this it follows incontestably, that the pure concepts 
 of the understanding never admit of a transcendental, but only 
 of an empirical use, and that the principles of the pure under- 
 standing can only be referred, as general conditions of a possible 
 experience, to objects of the senses, never to things by themselves 
 (without regard to the manner in which we have to look at 
 them). 
 
422 KANT 
 
 Transcendental Analytic has therefore yielded us this impor- 
 tant result, that the understanding a priori can never do more 
 than anticipate the form of .a possible experience ; and as nothing 
 can be an object of experience except the phenomenon, it follows 
 that the understanding can never go beyond the limits of sensi- 
 bility, within which alone objects are given to us. Its principles 
 are principles for the exhibition of phenomena only; and the 
 proud name of Ontology, which presumes to supply in a sys- 
 tematic form different kinds of synthetical knowledge a priori 
 of things by themselves (for instance the principle of causality), 
 must be replaced by the more modest name of a mere Analytic 
 of the pure understanding. 
 
 If all thought (by means of categories) is taken away from 
 empirical knowledge, no knowledge of any object remains, be- 
 cause nothing can be thought by mere intuition, and the mere 
 fact that there is within me an affection of my sensibility, es- 
 tablishes in no way any relation of such a representation to any 
 objectjlf, on the contrary, all intuition is taken away, there 
 always remains the form of thought, that is, the mode of deter- 
 mining an object for the manifold of a possible intuition. In 
 this sense the categories may be said to extend further than sen- 
 suous intuition, because they can think objects hi general with- 
 out any regard to the special mode of sensibility in which they 
 may be given ; but they do not thus prove a larger sphere of 
 objects, because we cannot admit that such objects can be given, 
 without admitting the possibility of some other but sensuous 
 intuition, for which we have no right whatever. 
 
 I call a concept problematic, if it is not self-contradictory, 
 and if, as limiting other concepts, it is connected with other 
 kinds of knowledge, while its objective reality cannot be known 
 in any way. Now the concept of a noumenon, that is of a thing 
 which can never be thought as an object of the senses, but only 
 as a thing by itself (by the pure understanding), is not self- 
 contradictory, because we cannot maintain that sensibility is the 
 only form of intuition. That concept is also necessary, to pre- 
 vent sensuous intuition from extending to things by themselves ; 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 423 
 
 that is, in order to limit the objective validity of sensuous know- 
 ledge (for all the rest to which sensuous intuition does not ex- 
 tend is called noumenon, for the very purpose of showing that 
 sensuous knowledge cannot extend its domain over everything 
 that can be thought by the understanding). But, after all, we 
 cannot understand the possibility of such noumena, and what- 
 ever lies beyond the sphere of phenomena is (to us) empty; 
 that is, we have an understanding which problematically extends 
 beyond that sphere, but no intuition, nay not even the concep- 
 tion of a possible intuition, by which, outside the field of sen- 
 sibility, objects could be given to us, and our understanding 
 could extend beyond that sensibility in its assertory use. The 
 concept of a noumenon is therefore merely limitative, and in- 
 tended to keep the claims of sensibility within proper bounds, 
 therefore of negative use only. But it is not a mere arbitrary 
 fiction, but closely connected with the limitation of sensibility, 
 though incapable of adding anything positive to the sphere of 
 the senses. 
 
 A real division of objects into phenomena and noumena, and 
 of the world into a sensible and intelligible world (in a posi- 
 tive sense), is therefore quite inadmissible, although concepts 
 may very well be divided into sensuous and intellectual. No 
 objects can be assigned to these intellectual concepts, nor can 
 they be represented as objectively valid. If we drop the senses, 
 how are we to make it conceivable that our categories (which 
 would be the only remaining concepts for noumena) have any 
 meaning at all, considering that, in order to refer them to any 
 object, something more must be given than the mere unity of 
 thought, namely, a possible intuition, to which the categories 
 could be applied? With all this the concept of a noumenon, 
 if taken as problematical only, remains not only admissible, but, 
 as a concept to limit the sphere of sensibility, indispensable. In 
 this case, however, it is not a purely intelligible object for our 
 understanding, but an understanding to which it could belong 
 is itself a problem, if we ask how it could know an object, not 
 discursively by means of categories, but intuitively, and yet in 
 a nonsensuous intuition, a process of which we could not 
 
424 KANT 
 
 understand even the bare possibility. Our understanding thus 
 acquires a kind of negative extension, that is, it does not become 
 itself limited by sensibility, but, on the contrary, limits it, by 
 calling things by themselves (not considered as phenomena) 
 noumena. In doing this, it immediately proceeds to prescribe 
 limits to itself, by admitting that it cannot know these noumena 
 by means of the categories, but can only think of them under 
 the name of something unknown. 
 
 //. TRANSCENDENTAL DIALECTIC 
 
 INTRODUCTION. TRANSCENDENTAL ILLUSION 
 
 It is not at present our business to treat of empirical, for in- 
 stance, optical appearance or illusion, which occurs in the em- 
 pirical use of the otherwise correct rules of the understanding, 
 and by which, owing to the influence of imagination, the faculty 
 of judgment is misled. We have to deal here with nothing but 
 the transcendental illusion, which touches principles never even 
 intended to be applied to experience, which might give us a 
 test of their correctness, an illusion which, in spite of all the 
 warnings of criticism, tempts us far beyond the empirical use 
 of the categories, and deludes us with the mere dream of an ex- 
 tension of the pure understanding. All principles the application 
 of which is entirely confined within the limits of possible experi- 
 ence, we shall call immanent; those, on the contrary, which tend 
 to transgress those limits, transcendent. I do not mean by this 
 the transcendental use or abuse of the categories, which is a 
 mere fault of the faculty of the judgment, not being as yet suffi- 
 ciently subdued by criticism nor sufficiently attentive to the 
 limits of the sphere within which alone the pure understanding 
 has full play, but real principles which call upon us to break 
 down all those barriers, and to claim a perfectly new territory, 
 which nowhere recognises any demarcation at all. Here tran- 
 scendental and transcendent do not mean the same thing. The 
 principles of the pure understanding, which we explained before, 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 425 
 
 are meant to be only of empirical, and not of transcendental 
 application, that is, they cannot transcend the limits of experi- 
 ence. A principle, on the contrary, which removes these land- 
 marks, nay, insists on our transcending them, is called tran- 
 scendent. If our critique succeeds in laying bare the illusion 
 of those pretended principles, the other principles of a purely 
 empirical use may, in opposition to the former, be called im- 
 manent. 
 
 BOOK II. -THE DIALECTICAL CONCLUSIONS 
 OF PURE REASON 
 
 One might say that the object of a purely transcendental idea 
 is something of which we have no concept, although the idea is 
 produced with necessity according to the original laws of reason. 
 Nor is it possible indeed to form of an object that should be 
 adequate to the demands of reason, a concept of the under- 
 standing, that is, a concept which could be shown in any pos- 
 sible experience, .and rendered intuitive. It would be better, 
 however, and less liable to misunderstandings, to say that we 
 can have no knowledge of an object corresponding to an idea, 
 but a problematic concept only. 
 
 The transcendental (subjective) reality, at least of pure con- 
 cepts of reason, depends on our being led to such ideas by a 
 necessary syllogism of reason. There will be syllogisms there- 
 fore which have no empirical premises, and by means of which 
 we conclude from something which we know to something else 
 of which we have no concept, and to which, constrained by an 
 inevitable illusion, we nevertheless attribute objective reality. 
 As regards their result, such syllogisms are rather to be called 
 sophistical than rational, although, as regards their origin, they 
 may claim the latter name, because they are not purely fictitious 
 or accidental, but products of the very nature of reason. They 
 are sophistications, not of men, but of pure reason itself, from 
 which even the wisest of men cannot escape. All he can do is, 
 with great effort, to guard against error, though never able to 
 
4 a6 KANT 
 
 rid himself completely of an illusion which constantly torments 
 and mocks him. 
 
 Of these dialectical syllogisms of reason there are therefore 
 three classes only, that is as many as the ideas to which their 
 conclusions lead. In the syllogism of the first class, I conclude 
 from the transcendental concept of the subject, which contains 
 nothing manifold, the absoulte unity of the subject itself, of 
 which however I have no concept in this regard. This dialectical 
 syllogism I shall call the transcendental paralogism. 
 
 The second class of the so-called sophistical syllogisms aims 
 at the transcendental concept of an absolute totality in the series 
 of conditions to any given phenomenon; and I conclude from 
 the fact that my concept of the unconditioned synthetical unity 
 of the series is always self-contradictory on one side, the cor- 
 rectness of the opposite unity, of which nevertheless I have no 
 concept either. The state of reason in this class of dialectical 
 syllogisms, I shall call the antinomy of pure reason. 
 
 Lastly, according to the third class of sophistical syllogisms, 
 I conclude from the totality of conditions, under which objects 
 in general, so far as they can be given to me, must be thought, 
 the absolute synthetical unity of all conditions of the possibility 
 of things in general ; that is to say, I conclude from things which 
 I do not know according to their mere transcendental concept, a 
 Being of all beings, which I know still less through a transcen- 
 dental concept, and of the unconditioned necessity of which I 
 can form no concept whatever. This dialectical syllogism of 
 reason I shall call the ideal of pure reason. 
 
 CHAPTER I. THE PARALOGISMS OF P.URE REASON 
 
 The logical paralogism consists in the formal faultiness of a 
 conclusion, without any reference to its contents. But a tran- 
 scendental paralogism arises from a transcendental cause, which 
 drives us to a formally false conclusion. Such a paralogism, 
 therefore, depends most likely on the very nature of human 
 reason, and produces an illusion which is inevitable, though not 
 insoluble. 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 427 
 
 We now come to a concept which was not inserted in our gen- 
 eral list of transcendental concepts, and yet must be reckoned with 
 them, without however changing that table in the least, or prov- 
 ing it to be deficient. This is the concept, or, if the term is pre- 
 ferred, the judgment, / think. It is easily seen, however, that 
 this concept is the vehicle of all concepts in general, therefore 
 of transcendental concepts also, being always comprehended 
 among them, and being itself transcendental also, though with- 
 out any claim to a special title, inasmuch as it serves only to 
 introduce all thought, as belonging to consciousness. However 
 free that concept may be from all that is empirical (impressions 
 of the senses), it serves nevertheless to distinguish two objects 
 within the nature of our faculty of representation. /, as think- 
 ing, am an object of the internal sense, and am called soul. That 
 which is an object of the external senses is called body. The 
 term /, as a thinking being, signifies the object of psychology, 
 which may be called the rational science of the soul, supposing 
 that we want to know nothing about the soul except what, in- 
 dependent of all experience (which determines the I more espe- 
 cially and in concrete), can be deduced from the concept of I, 
 so far as it is present in every act of thought. . . . 
 
 / think is, therefore, the only text of rational psychology, out 
 of which it must evolve all its wisdom. It is easily seen that this 
 thought, if it is to be applied to any object (my self), cannot 
 contain any but transcendental predicates, because the smallest 
 empirical predicate would spoil the rational purity of the science, 
 and its independence of all experience. 
 
 We shall therefore follow the thread of the categories, with this 
 difference, however, that as here the first thing which is given 
 is a thing, the I, a thinking being, we must begin with the cate- 
 gory of substance, by which a thing in itself is represented, and 
 then proceed backwards, though without changing the respective 
 order of the categories, as given before in our table. The topic 
 of the rational science of the soul, from which has to be derived 
 whatever else that science may contain, is therefore the fol- 
 lowing. 
 
428 KANT 
 
 I 
 
 The Soul is substance. 
 II III 
 
 As regards its quality, simple. As regards the different 
 
 times in which it exists, nu- 
 merically identical, that is 
 unity (not plurality). 
 IV 
 
 It is in relation to 
 possible objects in space. 
 
 To these concepts refer four paralogisms of a transcendental 
 psychology, which is falsely supposed to be a science of pure 
 reason, concerning the nature of our thinking being. We can, 
 however, use as the foundation of such a science nothing but the 
 single, and in itself perfectly empty, representation of the 7, 
 of which we cannot even say that it is a concept, but merely a 
 consciousness that accompanies all concepts. By this /, or he, 
 or it (the thing), which thinks, nothing is represented beyond 
 a transcendental subject of thoughts = x, which is known only 
 through the thoughts that are its predicates, and of which, 
 apart from them, we can never have the slightest concept, so 
 that we are really turning round it in a perpetual circle, having 
 already to use its representation, before we can form any judg- 
 ment about it. And this inconvenience is really inevitable, be- 
 cause consciousness in itself is not so much a representation, 
 distinguishing a particular object, but really a form of repre- 
 sentation in general, in so far as it is to be called knowledge, of 
 which alone I can say that I think something by it. . .'"'. 
 
 As the proposition I think (taken problematically) contains 
 the form of every possible judgment of the understanding, and 
 accompanies all categories as their vehicle, it must be clear that 
 the conclusions to be drawn from it can only contain a tran- 
 scendental use of the understanding, which declines all admix- 
 ture of experience, and of the achievements of which, after what 
 has been said before, we cannot form any very favourable an- 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 429 
 
 ticipations. We shall therefore follow it, with a critical eye, 
 through all the predicaments of pure psychology. 1 
 
 The following general remark may at the very outset make us 
 more attentive to this mode of syllogism. I do not know any 
 object by merely thinking, but only by determining a given intui- 
 tion with respect to that unity of consciousness in which all thought 
 consists ; therefore, I do not know myself by being conscious of 
 myself, as thinking, but only if I am conscious of the intuition 
 of myself as determined with respect to the function of thought. 
 All modes of self-consciousness in thought are therefore by 
 themselves not yet concepts of understanding of objects (cate- 
 gories), but mere logical functions, which present no object to 
 our thought to be known, and therefore do not present myself 
 either as an object. It is not a consciousness of the determining, 
 but only that of the determinable self, that is, of my internal in- 
 tuition (so far as the manifold in it can be connected in accord- 
 ance with the general condition of the unity of apperception in 
 thought) which forms the object. 
 
 1. In all judgments I am always the determining subject only 
 of the relation which constitutes the judgment. That I, who 
 think, can be considered in thinking as subject only, and as some- 
 thing not simply inherent in the thinking, as predicate, is an 
 apodictical and even identical proposition ; but it does not mean 
 that, as an object, I am a self-dependent being or a substance. The 
 latter would be saying a great deal, and requires for its support 
 data which are not found in the thinking, perhaps (so far as 
 I consider only the thinking subject as such) more than I shall 
 ever find in it. 
 
 2. That the Ego of apperception, and therefore the Ego in 
 every act of thought, is a singular which cannot be dissolved into 
 a plurality of subjects, and that it therefore signifies a logically 
 simple subject, follows from the very concept of thinking, and is 
 consequently an analytical proposition. But this does not mean 
 that a thinking Ego is a simple substance, which would indeed be 
 a synthetical proposition. The concept of substance always re- 
 
 1 All that follows, to the beginning of the second chapter, concerning par- 
 alogisms, is taken from the second edition. 
 
430 KANT 
 
 lates to intuitions which, with me, cannot be other but sensuous, 
 and which therefore lie completely outside the field of the under- 
 standing and its thinking, which alone is intended here, when 
 we say that the Ego, in thinking, is simple. It would indeed be 
 strange, if what elsewhere requires so great an effort, namely, to 
 distinguish in what is given by intuition what is substance, and 
 still more, whether that substance can be simple (as in the case 
 of the component parts of matter), should in our case be given 
 to us so readily in what is really the poorest of all representations, 
 and, as it were, by an act of revelation. 
 
 3. The proposition of the identity of myself amidst the mani- 
 fold of which I am conscious, likewise follows from the concepts 
 themselves, and is therefore analytical; but the identity of the 
 subject of which, in all its representations, I may become con- 
 scious, does not refer to the intuition by which it is given as an 
 object, and cannot therefore signify the identity of the person, 
 by which is understood the consciousness of the identity of one's 
 own substance, as a thinking being, in all the changes of circum- 
 stances. In order to prove this, the mere analysis of the proposi- 
 tion, I think, would avail nothing : but different synthetical judg- 
 ments would be required, which are based on the given intuition. 
 
 4. To say that I distinguish my own existence, as that of a 
 thinking being, from other things outside me (one of them being 
 my body) is likewise an analytical proposition ; for other things 
 are things which I conceive as different from myself. But, whether 
 such a consciousness of myself is even possible without things 
 outside me, whereby representations are given to me, and whether 
 I could exist merely as a thinking being (without being a man), 
 I do not know at all by that proposition. 
 
 Nothing therefore is gained by the analysis of the conscious- 
 ness of myself, in thought in general, towards the knowledge of 
 myself as an object. The logical analysis of thinking in general 
 is simply mistaken for a metaphysical determination of the 
 object. 
 
 In this process of rational psychology, there lurks a paralogism 
 which may be represented by the following syllogism. 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 431 
 
 That which cannot be conceived otherwise than as a subject, 
 does not exist otherwise than as a subject, and is therefore a 
 substance. 
 
 A thinking being, considered as such, cannot be conceived 
 otherwise than as a subject. 
 
 Therefore it exists also as such only, that is, as a substance. 
 
 In the major they speak of a being that can be thought in 
 every respect, and therefore also as it may be given in intuition. 
 In the minor, however, they speak of it only so far as it considers 
 itself, as subject, with respect to the thinking and the unity of 
 consciousness only, but not at the same time in respect to the 
 intuition whereby this unity is given as an object of thinking. 
 The conclusion, therefore, has been drawn by a sophism, and 
 more particularly by sophisma figurae dictionis. 
 
 There is, therefore, no rational psychology, as a doctrine, 
 furnishing any addition to our self-knowledge, but only as a 
 discipline, fixing impassable limits to speculative reason in this 
 field, partly to keep us from throwing ourselves into the arms 
 of a soulless materialism, partly to warn us against losing our- 
 selves in a vague, and, with regard to practical life, baseless 
 spiritualism. It reminds us at the same time to look upon this 
 refusal of our reason to give a satisfactory answer to such curious 
 questions, which reach beyond the limits of this life, as a hint 
 to turn our self-knowledge away from fruitless speculations to 
 a fruitful practical use a use which, though directed always 
 to objects of experience only, derives its principle from a higher 
 source, and so regulates our conduct, as if our destination 
 reached far beyond experience, and therefore far beyond this life. 
 
 CHAPTER II. THE ANTINOMY OF PURE 
 REASON 
 
 The second class of the dialectical arguments in analogy with 
 the hypothetical syllogisms, takes for its object the unconditioned 
 unity of the objective conditions in phenomenal appearance. . . . 
 
432 KANT 
 
 It is remarkable, however, that a transcendental paralogism 
 caused a one-sided illusion only, with regard to our idea of the 
 subject of our thought ; and that it is impossible to find in mere 
 concepts of reason the slightest excuse for maintaining the con- 
 trary. . . . The case is totally different when we apply reason to 
 the objective synthesis of phenomena ; here reason tries at first, 
 with great plausibility, to establish its principle of. unconditioned 
 unity, but becomes soon entangled in so many contradictions, 
 that it must give up its pretensions with regard to cosmology also. 
 For here we are met by a new phenomenon in human reason, 
 namely, a perfectly natural Antithetic, which is not produced 
 by any artificial efforts, but into which reason falls by itself, and 
 inevitably. ... As therefore the paralogisms of pure reason 
 formed the foundation for a dialectical psychology, the antinomy 
 of pure reason will place before our eyes the transcendental 
 principles of a pretended pure (rational) cosmology, not in 
 order to show that it is valid and can be accepted, but, as may be 
 guessed from the very name of the antinomy of reason, in order 
 to expose it as an idea surrounded by deceptive and false appear- 
 ances, and utterly irreconcilable with phenomena. 
 
 SECTION I. SYSTEM OF COSMOLOGICAL IDEAS 
 
 Before we are able to enumerate these ideas according to a 
 principle and with systematic precision, we must bear in mind, 
 
 ist, That pure and transcendental concepts arise from the 
 understanding only, and that reason does not in reality pro- 
 duce any concept, but only frees, it may be, the concept of the 
 understanding of the inevitable limitation of a possible experi- 
 ence, and thus tries to enlarge it, beyond the limits of experience, 
 yet in connection with it. Reason does this by demanding for 
 something that is given as conditioned, absolute totality on the 
 side of the conditions (under which the understanding subjects 
 all phenomena to the synthetical unity). It thus changes the 
 category into a transcendental idea, in order to give absolute 
 completeness to the empirical synthesis, by continuing it up to 
 the unconditioned (which can never be met with in experience, 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 433 
 
 but in the idea only). In doing this, reason follows the principle 
 that, if the conditioned is given, the whole sum of conditions, and 
 therefore the absolutely unconditioned must be given likewise, the 
 former being impossible without the latter. Hence the tran- 
 scendental ideas are in reality nothing but categories, enlarged 
 till they reach the unconditioned, and those ideas must admit 
 of being arranged in a table, according to the titles of the cate- 
 gories. 
 
 2ndly, Not all categories will lend themselves to this, but 
 those only in which the synthesis constitutes a series, and a series 
 of subordinated (not of co-ordinated) conditions. Absolute total- 
 ity is demanded by reason, with regard to an ascending series 
 of conditions only, not therefore when we have to deal with 
 a descending line of consequences, or with an aggregate of 
 co-ordinated conditions. 
 
 I shall call the synthesis of a series on the side of the conditions, 
 beginning with the one nearest to a given phenomenon, and 
 advancing to the more remote conditions, regressive; the other, 
 which on the side of the conditioned advances from the nearest 
 effect to the more remote ones, progressive. The former pro- 
 ceeds in antecedentia, the second in consequentia. Cosmological 
 ideas therefore, being occupied with the totality of regressive 
 synthesis, proceed in antecedentia, not in consequentia. If the 
 latter should take place, it would be a gratuitous, not a neces- 
 sary problem of pure reason, because for a complete compre- 
 hension of what is given us in experience we want to know the 
 causes, but not the effects. 
 
 If therefore we select those categories which necessarily imply 
 a series in the synthesis of the manifold, we shall have no more 
 than four cosmological ideas, according to the four titles of the 
 categories. 
 
 Absolute completeness 
 
 of the composition 
 of the given whole of all phenomena. 
 
434 KANT 
 
 II III 
 
 Absolute completeness Absolute completeness 
 
 of the division of the origination 
 
 of a given whole of a phenomenon 
 
 in phenomenal appearance. in general. 
 
 IV 
 
 Absolute completeness 
 
 of the dependence of the existence 
 
 of the changeable in phenomenal appearance. 
 
 SECTION II. ANTITHETIC OF PURE REASON 
 
 If every collection of dogmatical doctrines is called Thetic, 
 I may denote by Antithetic, not indeed dogmatical assertions 
 of the opposite, but the conflict between different kinds of ap- 
 parently dogmatical knowledge (thesis cum antithesi), to none 
 of which we can ascribe a superior claim to our assent. This 
 antithetic, therefore, has nothing to do with one-sided assertions, 
 but considers general knowledge of reason with reference to the 
 conflict only that goes on in it, and its causes. The transcenden- 
 tal antithetic is in fact an investigation of the antinomy of pure 
 reason, its causes and its results. If we apply our reason, not 
 only to objects of experience, in order to make use of the prin- 
 ciples of the understanding, but venture to extend it beyond the 
 limit of experience, there arise rationalising or sophistical propo- 
 sitions, which can neither hope for confirmation nor need fear 
 refutation from experience. Every one of them is not only in 
 itself free from contradiction, but can point to conditions of its 
 necessity in the nature of reason itself, only that, unfortunately, 
 its opposite can produce equally valid and necessary grounds 
 for its support. 
 
 The antinomies* follow in the order of the transcendental 
 ideas as given above. 
 
 * The " Observations " on them by Kant have been omitted. 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 435 
 
 The Antinomy of Pure Reason. 
 
 ' FIRST CONFLICT OF THE TRANSCENDENTAL IDEAS 
 
 THESIS ANTITHESIS 
 
 The world has a beginning The world has no beginning 
 
 in time, and is limited also with and no limits in space, but is 
 
 regard to space. infinite, in respect both to time 
 
 'and space. 
 
 Proof. Proof. 
 
 For if we assumed that the For let us assume that it has 
 
 world had no beginning in a beginning. Then, as begin- 
 
 time, then an eternity must ning is an existence which is 
 
 have elapsed up to every given preceded by a time in which 
 
 point of time, and therefore an the thing is not, it would fol- 
 
 infinite series of successive states low that antecedently there was 
 
 of things must have passed in a time in which the world was 
 
 the world. The infinity of a not, that is, an empty time. In 
 
 series, however, consists in this, an empty time, however, it 
 
 that it never can be completed is impossible that anything 
 
 by means of a successive syn- should take its beginning, be- 
 
 thesis. Hence an infinite past cause of such a time no part 
 
 series of worlds is impossible, possesses any condition as to 
 
 and the beginning of the world existence rather than non-ex- 
 
 a necessary condition of its istence, which condition could 
 
 existence. This was what had distinguish that part from any 
 
 to be proved first. other (whether produced by 
 
 With regard to the second, itself or through another 
 
 let us assume again the oppo- cause). Hence, though many a 
 
 site. In that case the world series of things may take its be- 
 
 would be given as an infinite ginning in the world, the world 
 
 whole of co-existing things, itself can have no beginning, 
 
 Now we cannot conceive in any and in reference to time past is 
 
 way the extension of a quan- infinite. 
 
 turn, which is not given within With regard to the second, 
 
 certain limits to every intuition, let us assume again the oppo- 
 
 except through the synthesis of site, namely, that the world is 
 
436 KANT 
 
 its parts, nor the totality of such finite and limited in space. In 
 a quantum in any way, except that case the world would ex- 
 through a completed synthesis, ist in an empty space without 
 or by the repeated addition of limits. We should therefore 
 unity to itself. In order there- have not only a relation of things 
 fore to conceive the world, in space, but also of things to 
 which fills all space, as a whole, space. As however the world is 
 the successive synthesis of the an absolute whole, outside of 
 parts of an infinite world would which no object of intuition, 
 have to be looked upon as com- and therefore no correlate of 
 pleted; that is, an infinite time the world can be found, the 
 would have to be looked upon relation of the world to empty 
 as elapsed, during the enumera- space would be a relation to 
 tion of all co-existing things, no object. Such a relation, and 
 This is impossible. Hence an with it the limitation of the 
 infinite aggregate of real things world by empty space, is no- 
 cannot be regarded as a given thing, and therefore the world 
 whole, nor, therefore, as given is not limited with regard to 
 at the same time. Hence it space, that is, it is unlimited 
 follows that the world is not in extension, 
 infinite, as regards extension in 
 space, but enclosed in limits. 
 This was the second that had 
 to be proved. 
 
 SECOND CONFLICT OF THE TRANSCENDENTAL IDEAS 
 
 THESIS ANTITHESIS 
 
 Every compound substance No compound thing in the 
 
 in the world consists of simple world consists of simple parts, 
 
 parts, and nothing exists any- and there exists nowhere in the 
 
 where but the simple, or what world anything simple, 
 is composed of it. 
 
 Proof, Proof. 
 For let us assume that com- Assume that a compound 
 pound substances did not con- thing, a substance, consists of 
 sist of simple parts, then, if simple parts. Then as all ex- 
 all composition is removed in ternal relation, and therefore 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 4 37 
 
 thought, there would be no all composition of substances 
 compound part, and (as no also, is possible in space only, 
 simple parts are admitted) no it follows that space must con- 
 simple part either, that is, there sist of as many parts as the parts 
 would remain nothing, and of the compound that occupies 
 there would therefore be no the space. Space, however, 
 substance at all. Either, there- does not consist of simple parts, 
 fore, it is impossible to remove but of spaces. Every part of a 
 all composition in thought, or, compound, therefore, must oc- 
 after its removal, there must cupy a space. Now the abso- 
 remain something that exists lutely primary parts of every 
 without composition, that is compound are simple. It fol- 
 the simple. In the former case lows therefore that the simple 
 the compound could not itself occupies a space. But as e very- 
 consist of substances (because thing real, which occupies a 
 with them composition is only space," contains a manifold, the 
 an accidental relation of sub- parts of which are by the side 
 stances, which, as permanent of each other, and which there- 
 beings, must subsist without it), fore is compounded, and, as a 
 As this contradicts the suppo- real compound, compounded 
 sition, there remains only the not of accidents (for these could 
 second view, that the substan- not exist by the side of each 
 tial compounds in the world other, without a substance), 
 consist of simple parts. but of substances, it would fol- 
 It follows as an immediate low that the simple is a sub- 
 consequence that all the things stantial compound, which is 
 in the world are simple beings, self-contradictory. 
 
 that their composition is only 
 
 an external condition, and that, 
 though we are unable to re- 
 move these elementary sub- 
 stances from their state of com- 
 position and isolate them, rea- 
 son must conceive them as the 
 first subjects of all composition, 
 and therefore, antecedently to 
 it, as simple beings. 
 
438 KANT 
 
 THIRD CONFLICT OF THE TRANSCENDENTAL IDEAS 
 
 THESIS ANTITHESIS 
 
 Causality, according to the There is no freedom, but 
 
 laws of nature, is not the only everything in the world takes 
 
 causality from which all the place entirely according to the 
 
 phenomena of the world can be laws of nature, 
 deduced. In order to account 
 for these phenomena it is ne- 
 cessary also to admit another 
 causality, that of freedom. 
 
 Proof. Proof. 
 
 Let us assume that there is no If we admit that there is 
 
 other causality but that accord- freedom, in the transcendental 
 
 ing to the laws of nature. In sense, as a particular kind of 
 
 that case everything that takes causality, according to which 
 
 place, presupposes an anterior the events in the world could 
 
 state, on which it follows in- take place, that is a faculty of 
 
 evitably according to a rule, absolutely originating a state, 
 
 But that anterior state must and with it a series of conse- 
 
 itself be something which has quences, it would follow that 
 
 taken place (which has come to not only a series would have its 
 
 be in time, and did not exist be- absolute beginning through this 
 
 fore), because, if it had always spontaneity, but the determi- 
 
 existed, its effect too would not nation of that spontaneity itself 
 
 have only just arisen, but have to produce the series, that is, 
 
 existed always. The causality, the causality, would have an 
 
 therefore, of a cause, through absolute beginning, nothing pre- 
 
 which something takes place, ceding it by which this act is 
 
 is itself an event, which again, determined according to per- 
 
 according to the law of nature, manent laws. Every beginning 
 
 presupposes an anterior state of an act, however, presup- 
 
 and its causality, and this again poses a state in which the cause 
 
 an anterior state, and so on. If, is not yet active, and a dynami- 
 
 therefore, everything takes place cally primary beginning of an 
 
 according to mere laws of na- act presupposes a state which 
 
 ture, there will always be a has no causal connection with 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 439 
 
 secondary only, but never a the preceding state of that 
 primary beginning, and there- cause, that is, in no wise follows 
 fore no completeness of the from it. Transcendental free- 
 series, on the side of successive dom is therefore opposed to the 
 causes. But the law of nature law of causality, and represents 
 consists in this, that nothing such a connection of successive 
 takes place without a cause states of effective causes, that 
 sufficiently determined a priori, no unity of experience is pos- 
 Therefore the proposition, that sible with it. It is therefore an 
 all causality is possible accord- empty fiction of the mind, and 
 ing to the laws of nature only, not to be met with in any expe- 
 contradicts itself, if taken in rience. 
 
 unlimited generality, and it is We have, therefore, nothing 
 impossible, therefore, to admit but nature, in which we must 
 that causality as the only one. try to find the connection and 
 We must therefore admit an- order of cosmical events. Free- 
 other causality, through which dom (independence) from the 
 something takes place, without laws of nature is no doubt a 
 its cause being further deter- deliverance from restraint, but 
 mined according to necessary also from the guidance of all 
 laws by a preceding cause, that rules. For we cannot- say that, 
 is, an absolute spontaneity of instead of the laws of nature, 
 causes, by which a series of laws of freedom may enter into 
 phenomena, proceeding accord- the causality of the course of 
 ing to natural laws, begins by the world, because, if deter- 
 itself ; we must consequently mined by laws, it would not be 
 admit transcendental freedom, freedom, but nothing else but 
 without which, even in the nature. Nature, therefore, and 
 course of nature, the series of transcendental freedom differ 
 phenomena on the side of from each other like legality 
 causes, can never be perfect. and lawlessness. . . . 
 
 FOURTH CONFLICT OF THE TRANSCENDENTAL IDEAS 
 
 THESIS ANTITHESIS 
 
 There exists an absolutely There nowhere exists an ab- 
 necessary Being belonging to solutely necessary Being, either 
 
440 KANT 
 
 the world, either as a part or as within or without the world, as 
 a cause of it. the cause of it. 
 
 Proof. Proof. 
 
 The world of sense, as the If we supposed that the world 
 sum total of all phenomena, itself is a necessary being, or 
 contains a series of changes that a necessary being exists in 
 without which even the repre- it, there would then be in the 
 sentation of a series of time, series of changes either a be- 
 which forms the condition of ginning, unconditionally neces- 
 the possibility of the world of sary, and therefore without a 
 sense, would not be given us. cause, which contradicts the 
 But every change has its condi- dynamical law of the deter- 
 tion which precedes it in time, mination of all phenomena in 
 and renders it necessary. Now, time ; or the series itself would 
 everything that is given as be without any beginning, and 
 conditional presupposes, with though contingent and condi- 
 regard to its existence, a com- tioned in all its parts, yet en- 
 plete series of conditions, lead- tirely necessary and uncondi- 
 ing up to that which is entirely tioned as a whole. This would 
 unconditioned, and alone ab- be self-contradictory, because 
 solutely necessary. Something the existence of a multitude 
 absolutely necessary therefore cannot be necessary, if no single 
 must exist, if there exists a part of it possesses necessary 
 change as its consequence. And existence, 
 this absolutely necessary be- If we supposed, on the con- 
 longs itself to the world of trary, that there exists an ab- 
 sense. For if we supposed that solutely necessary cause of the 
 it existed outside that world, world, outside the world, then 
 then the series of changes in the that cause, as the highest mem- 
 world would derive its origin ber in the series of causes of 
 from it, while the necessary cosmical changes, would begin 
 cause itself would not belong to the existence of the latter and 
 the world of sense. But this is their series. In that case, how- 
 impossible. For as the begin- ever, that cause would have to 
 ning of a temporal series can be begin to act, and its causality 
 determined only by that which would belong to time, and 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 441 
 
 precedes it in time, it follows therefore to the sum total of 
 that the highest condition of the phenomena. It would belong 
 beginning of a series of changes to the world, and would there- 
 must exist in the time when that fore not be outside the world, 
 series was not yet (because the which is contrary to our sup- 
 beginning is an existence, pre- position. Therefore, neither in 
 ceded by a time in which the the world, nor outside the 
 thing which begins was not yet), world (yet in causal connection 
 Hence the causality of the neces- with it), does there exist any- 
 sary cause of changes and that where an absolutely necessary 
 cause itself belong to time and Being, 
 therefore to phenomena (in 
 which alone time, as their form, 
 is possible), and it cannot there- 
 fore be conceived as separated 
 from the world of sense, as the 
 sum total of all phenomena. 
 It follows, therefore, that some- 
 thing absolutely necessary is 
 contained in the world, whether 
 it be the whole cosmical series 
 itself, or only a part of it. 
 
 SECTION VII. CRITICAL SOLUTION OF THE COSMOLOGICAL 
 CONFLICT OF REASON 
 
 The whole antinomy of pure reason rests on the dialectical 
 argument that, if the conditioned is given, the whole series of 
 conditions also is given. As therefore the objects of the senses 
 are given us as conditioned, it follows, etc. Through this argu- 
 ment, the major of which seems so natural and self-evident, 
 cosmological ideas have been introduced corresponding in num- 
 ber to the difference of conditions (in the synthesis of phenomena) 
 which constitute a series. These cosmological ideas postulate the 
 absolute totality of those series, and thus place reason in inevi- 
 table contradiction with itself. . . . 
 
 If we regard the two statements that the world is infinite in 
 
442 KANT 
 
 extension, and that the world is finite in extension, as contra- 
 dictory opposites, we assume that the world (the whole series of 
 phenomena) is a thing by itself ; for it remains, whether I remove 
 the infinite or the finite regressus in the series of its phenomena. 
 But if we remove this supposition, or this transcendental illusion, 
 and deny that it is a thing by itself, then the contradictory oppo- 
 sition of the two statements becomes purely dialectical, and as 
 the world does not exist by itself (independently of the regressive 
 series of my representations), it exists neither as a whole by 
 itself infinite, nor as a whole by itself finite. It exists only in the 
 empirical regressus in the series of phenomena, and nowhere 
 by itself. Hence, if that series is always conditioned, it can never 
 exist as complete, and the world is therefore not an uncondi- 
 tioned whole, and does not exist as such, either with infinite or 
 finite extension. 
 
 The antinomy of pure reason with regard to its cosmological 
 ideas is therefore removed by showing that it is dialectical only, 
 and a conflict of an illusion produced by our applying the idea 
 of absolute totality, which exists only as a condition of things by 
 themselves, to phenomena, which exist in our representation 
 only, and if they form a series, in the successive regressus, but 
 nowhere else. We may, however, on the other side, derive from 
 that antinomy a true, if not dogmatical, at least critical and 
 doctrinal advantage, namely, by proving through it indirectly the 
 transcendental ideality of phenomena, in case anybody should 
 not have been satisfied by the direct proof given in the tran- 
 scendental ^Esthetic. The proof would consist in the following 
 dilemma. If the world is a whole existing by itself, it is either 
 finite or infinite. Now the former as well as the latter proposition 
 is false, as has been shown by the proofs given in the antithesis 
 on one and in the thesis on the other side. It is false, therefore, 
 that the world (the sum total of all phenomena) is a whole exist- 
 ing by itself. Hence it follows that phenomena in general are 
 nothing outside our representations, which was what we meant 
 by their transcendental ideality. 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 443 
 
 SECTION VIII. THE REGULATIVE PRINCIPLE OF PURE REASON 
 
 IN THE COSMOLOGICAL IDEAS 
 
 As through the cosmological principle of totality no real 
 maximum is given of the series of conditions in the world of 
 sense, as a thing by itself, but can only be required in the re- 
 gressus of that series, that principle of pure reason, if thus 
 amended, still retains its validity, not indeed as an axiom, re- 
 quiring us to think the totality in the object as real, but as a 
 problem for the understanding, and therefore for the subject, 
 encouraging us to undertake and to continue, according to the 
 completeness in the idea, the regressus in the series of conditions 
 of anything given as conditioned. In our sensibility, that is, in 
 space and time, every condition which we can reach in examin- 
 ing given phenomena is again conditioned, because these phe- 
 nomena are not objects by themselves, in which something 
 absolutely unconditioned might possibly exist, but empirical 
 representations only, which always must have their condition in 
 intuition, whereby they are determined in space and time. The 
 principle of reason is therefore properly a rule only, which in 
 the series of conditions of given phenomena postulates a re- 
 gressus which is never allowed to stop at anything absolutely 
 unconditioned. It is therefore no principle of the possibility of 
 experience and of the empirical knowledge of the objects of the 
 senses, and not therefore a principle of the understanding, be- 
 cause every experience is (according to a given intuition) within 
 its limits ; nor is it a constitutive principle of reason, enabling us 
 to extend the concept of the world of sense beyond all possible 
 experience, but it is merely a principle of the greatest possible 
 continuation and extension of our experience, allowing no em- 
 pirical limit to be taken as an absolute limit. It is therefore a 
 principle of reason, which, as a rule, postulates what we ought 
 to do in the regressus, but does not anticipate what may be 
 given in the object, before such regressus. I therefore call it a 
 regulative principle of reason, while, on the contrary, the prin- 
 ciple of the absolute totality of the series of conditions, as given 
 in the object (the pheitemena) by itself, would be a constitutive 
 
444 KANT 
 
 cosmological principle, the hollowness of which I have tried to 
 indicate by this very distinction, thus preventing what otherwise 
 would have inevitably happened (through a transcendental sur- 
 reptitious proceeding), namely, an idea, which is to serve as a 
 rule only, being invested with objective reality. 
 
 SECTION IX. EMPIRICAL USE OF THE REGULATIVE PRINCIPLE 
 
 OF REASON 
 
 No transcendental use, as we have shown on several occasions, 
 can be made of the concepts either of the understanding or of 
 reason; and the absolute totality of the series of conditions in 
 the world of sense is due entirely to a transcendental use of 
 reason, which demands this unconditioned completeness from 
 what presupposes as a thing by itself. As no such thing is con- 
 tained in the world of sense, we can never speak again of the 
 absolute quantity of different series in it, whether they be limited 
 or in themselves unlimited; but the question can only be, how 
 far, in the empirical regressus, we may go back in tracing ex- 
 perience to its conditions, in order to stop, according to the rule 
 of reason, at no other answer of its questions, but such as is in 
 accordance with the object. 
 
 What therefore remains to us is only the 'validity oj the prin- 
 ciple of reason, as a rule for the continuation and for the extent 
 of a possible experience, after its invalidity, as a constitutive 
 principle of things by themselves, has been sufficiently estab- 
 lished. If we have clearly established that invalidity, the con- 
 flict of reason with itself will be entirely finished, because not 
 only has the illusion which led to that conflict been removed 
 through critical analysis, but in its place the sense in which 
 reason agrees with itself, and the misapprehension of which' was 
 the only cause of conflict, has been clearly exhibited, and a prin- 
 ciple formerly dialectical changed into a doctrinal one. In -fact, 
 if that principle, according to its subjective meaning, can be 
 proved fit to determine the greatest possible use of the under- 
 standing in experience, as adequate to its objects, this would be 
 the same as if it determined, as an axiom (which is impossible 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 445 
 
 from pure reason), the objects themselves a priori : for this also 
 could not, with reference to the objects of experience, exercise 
 a greater influence on the extension and correction of our know- 
 ledge, than proving itself efficient in the most extensive use of 
 our understanding, as applied to experience. . . . 
 
 Concluding Remark on the Whole Antinomy of Pure Reason. 
 
 So long as it is only the totality of the conditions in the world of 
 sense and the interest it can have to reason, that form the object 
 of the concepts of our reason, our ideas are no doubt transcen- 
 dental, but yet cosmological. If, however, we place the uncon- 
 ditioned (with which we are chiefly concerned) in that which is 
 entirely outside the world of sense, therefore beyond all possible 
 experience, our ideas become transcendent: for they serve not 
 only for the completion of the empirical use of the understanding 
 (which always remains an idea that must be obeyed, though it 
 can never be fully carried out), but they separate themselves 
 entirely from it, and create to themselves objects the material 
 of which is not taken from experience, and the objective reality 
 of which does not rest on the completion of the empirical series, 
 but on pure concepts a priori. Such transcendent ideas have 
 a merely intelligible object, which may indeed be admitted as a 
 transcendental object, of which, for the rest, we know nothing, 
 but for which, if we wish to conceive it as a thing determined by 
 its internal distinguishing predicates, we have neither grounds 
 of possibility (as independent of all concepts of experience) nor 
 the slightest justification on our side in admitting it as an object, 
 and which, therefore, is a mere creation of our thoughts. Never- 
 theless that cosmological idea, which owes its origin to the fourth 
 antinomy, urges us on to take that step. For the conditioned 
 existence of all phenomena, not being founded in itself, requires 
 us to look out for something different from all phenomena, that 
 is, for an intelligible object in which there should be no more 
 contingency. As, however, if we have once allowed ourselves 
 to admit, outside the field of the whole of sensibility, a reality 
 existing by itself, phenomena can only be considered as con- 
 tingent modes of representing intelligible objects on the part 
 
446 KANT 
 
 of beings which themselves are intelligences, nothing remains 
 to us, in order to form some kind of concept of intelligible things, 
 of which in themselves we have not the slightest knowledge, but 
 analogy, applied to the concepts of experience. As we know the 
 contingent by experience only, but have here to deal with things 
 which are not meant to be objects of experience, we shall have 
 to derive our knowledge of them from what is necessary in itself, 
 that is, from pure concepts of things in general. Thus the first 
 step which we take outside the world of sense, obliges us to be- 
 gin our new knowledge with the investigation of the absolutely 
 necessary Being, and to derive from its concepts the concepts 
 of all things, so far as they are intelligible only ; and this we shall 
 attempt to do in the next chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER III. THE IDEAL OF PURE REASON 
 SECTION I. THE IDEAL IN GENERAL 
 
 We have seen that without the conditions of sensibility, it is 
 impossible to represent objects by means of the pure concepts 
 of the understanding, because the conditions of their objective 
 reality are absent, and they contain the mere form of thought 
 only. If, however, we apply these concepts to phenomena, they 
 can be represented in concrete, because in the phenomena they 
 have the material for forming concepts of experience, which are 
 nothing but concepts of the understanding in concreto. Ideas, 
 however, are still further removed from objective reality than 
 the categories, because they can meet with no phenomenon in 
 which they could be represented in concreto. They contain a 
 certain completeness unattainable by any possible empirical 
 knowledge, and reason aims in them at a systematical unity 
 only, to which the empirically possible unity is to approximate, 
 without ever fully reaching it. 
 
 Still further removed from objective reality than the Idea, 
 would seem to be what I call the Ideal, by which I mean the idea, 
 not only in concreto, but in individuo, that is, an individual thing 
 determinable or even determined by the idea alone. 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 447 
 
 In its ideal, on the contrary, reason aims at a perfect deter- 
 mination, according to rules a priori, and it conceives an object 
 throughout determinable according to principles, though without 
 the sufficient conditions of experience, so that the concept itself 
 is transcendent. 
 
 SECTION II. THE TRANSCENDENTAL IDEAL 
 
 The ideal of which we are speaking is founded on a natural, 
 not on a purely arbitrary idea. I ask, therefore, how does it hap- 
 pen that reason considers all the possibility of things as derived 
 from one fundamental possibility, namely, that of the highest 
 reality, and then presupposes it as contained in a particular 
 original being? The answer is easily found in the discussions 
 of the transcendental Analytic. The possibility of the objects of 
 our senses is their relation to our thought, by which something 
 (namely, the empirical form) can be thought a priori, while what 
 constitutes the matter, the reality in the phenomena (all that 
 corresponds to sensation) must be given, because without it it 
 could not even be thought, nor its possibility be represented. 
 An object of the senses can be completely determined only when 
 it is compared with all phenomenal predicates, and represented 
 by them either affirmatively or negatively. As, however, that 
 which constitutes the thing itself (as a phenomenon), namely, 
 the real, must be given, and as without this the thing could not 
 be conceived at all, and as that in which the real of all phenom- 
 ena is given is what we call the one and all comprehending 
 experience, it is necessary that the material for the possibility 
 of all objects of our senses should be presupposed as given in 
 one whole, on the limitation of which alone the possibility of all 
 empirical objects, their difference from each other, and their 
 complete determination can be founded. And since no other 
 objects can be given us but those of the senses, and nowhere 
 but in the context of a possible experience, nothing can be an 
 object to us, if it does not presuppose that whole of all empirical 
 reality, as the condition of its possibility. Owing to a natural 
 illusion, we are led to consider a principle which applies only to 
 
448 KANT 
 
 the objects of our senses, as a principle Valid for all things, 
 and thus to take the empirical principle of our concepts of the 
 possibility of things as phenomena, by omitting this limitation, 
 as a transcendental principle of the possibility of things in gen- 
 eral. 
 
 If afterwards we hypostasise this idea of the whole of all 
 reality, this is owing to our changing dialectically the distributive 
 unity of the empirical use of our understanding into the collec- 
 tive unity of an empirical whole, and then representing to our- 
 selves this whole of phenomena as an individual thing, contain- 
 ing in itself all empirical reality. Afterwards, by means of the 
 aforementioned transcendental subreption, this is taken for the 
 concept of a thing standing at the head of the possibility of all 
 things, and supplying the real conditions for their complete de- 
 termination. 
 
 SECTION III. THE ARGUMENTS OF SPECULATIVE REASON IN 
 PROOF OF THE EXISTENCE OF A SUPREME BEING 
 
 This therefore is the natural course of human reason. It 
 begins by persuading itself of the existence of some necessary 
 Being. In this being it recognises unconditioned existence. It 
 then .seeks for the concept of that which is independent of all 
 condition, and finds it in that which is itself the sufficient con- 
 dition of all other things, that is, in that which contains all real- 
 ity. Now as the unlimited all is absolute unity, and implies the 
 concept of a being, one and supreme, reason concludes that the 
 Supreme Being, as the original cause of all things, must exist 
 by absolute necessity. 
 
 There are only three kinds of proofs of the existence of God 
 from speculative reason. 
 
 All the paths that can be followed to this end begin either 
 from definite experience and the peculiar nature of the world of 
 sense, known to us through experience, and ascend from it, ac- 
 cording to the laws of causality, to the highest cause, existing 
 outside the world; or they rest on indefinite experience only, 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 449 
 
 that is, on any existence which is empirically given; or lastly, 
 they leave all experience out of account, and conclude, entirely 
 a priori from mere concepts, the existence of a supreme cause. 
 The first proof is the physico- theological, the second the cosmo- 
 logical, the third the ontological proof. There are no more, and 
 there can be no more. 
 
 I shall show that neither on the one path, the empirical, nor 
 on the other, the transcendental, can reason achieve anything, 
 and that it stretches its wings in vain, if it tries to soar beyond 
 the world of sense by the mere power of speculation. With regard 
 to the order in which these three arguments should be examined, 
 it will be the opposite of that, followed by reason in its gradual 
 development, in which we placed them also at first ourselves. 
 For we shall be able to show that, although experience gives the 
 first impulse, it is the transcendental concept only which guides 
 reason in its endeavours, and fixes the last goal which reason 
 wishes to retain. I shall therefore begin with the examination of 
 the transcendental proof, and see afterwards how far it may be 
 strengthened by the addition of empirical elements. 
 
 SECTION IV. THE ONTOLOGICAL PROOF 
 
 It is easily perceived, from what has been said before, that the 
 concept of an absolutely necessary Being is a concept of pure 
 reason, that is, a mere idea, the objective reality of which is by 
 no means proved by the fact that reason requires it. That idea 
 does no more than point to a certain but unattainable com- 
 pleteness, and serves rather to limit the understanding, than to 
 extend its sphere. It seems strange and absurd, however, that a 
 conclusion of an absolutely necessary existence from a given 
 existence in general should seem urgent and correct, and that yet 
 all the conditions under which the understanding can form a 
 concept of such a necessity should be entirely against us. 
 
 I might have hoped to put an end to this subtle argumentation, 
 without many words, and simply by an accurate definition of the 
 concept of existence, if I had not seen that the illusion, in mis- 
 
45 
 
 KANT 
 
 taking a logical predicate for a real one (that is the predicate 
 which determines a thing), resists all correction. Everything 
 can become a logical predicate, even the subject itself may be 
 predicated of itself, because logic takes no account of any con- 
 tents of concepts. Determination, however, is a predicate, added 
 to the concept of the subject, and enlarging it, and it must not 
 therefore be contained in it. 
 
 Being is evidently not a real predicate, or a concept of some- 
 thing that can be added to the concept of a thing. It is merely 
 the admission of a thing, and of certain determinations in it. 
 Logically, it is merely the copula of a judgment. The propo- 
 sition, God is almighty, contains two concepts, each having its 
 object, namely, God and almightiness. The small word is, is not 
 an additional predicate, but only serves to put the predicate in 
 relation to the subject. If, then, I take the subject (God) with all 
 its predicates (including that of almightiness), and say, God is, 
 or there is a God, I do not put a new predicate to the concept 
 of God, but I only put the subject by itself, with all its predi- 
 cates, in relation to my concept, as its object. Both must con- 
 tain exactly the same kind of thing, and nothing can have been 
 added to the concept, which expresses possibility only, by my 
 thinking its object as simply given and saying, it is. And thus 
 the real does not contain more than the possible. A hundred 
 real dollars do not contain a penny more than a hundred possible 
 dollars. For as the latter signify the concept, the former the 
 object and its position by itself, it is clear that, in case the former 
 contained more than the latter, my concept would not express 
 the whole object, and would not therefore be its adequate con- 
 cept. In my financial position no doubt there exists more by 
 one hundred real dollars, than by their concept only (that is 
 their possibility), because in reality the object is not only con- 
 tained analytically in my concept, but is added to my concept 
 (which is a determination of my state), synthetically; but the 
 conceived hundred dollars are not in the least increased through 
 the existence which is outside my concept. 
 
 By whatever and by however many predicates I may think a 
 thing (even in completely determining it), nothing is really added 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 451 
 
 to it, if I add that the thing exists. Otherwise, it would not be 
 the same that exists, but something more than was contained 
 in the concept, and I could not say that the exact object of my 
 concept existed. Nay, even if I were to think in a thing all reality, 
 except one, that one missing reality would not be supplied by my 
 saying that so defective a thing exists, but it would exist with 
 the same defect with which I thought it; or what exists would 
 be different from what I thought. If, then, I try to conceive a 
 being, as the highest reality (without any defect), the question 
 still . remains, whether it exists or not. For though in my con- 
 cept there may be wanting nothing of the possible real content 
 of a thing in general, something is wanting in its relation to my 
 whole state of thinking, namely, that the knowledge of that 
 object should be possible a posteriori also. . . . 
 
 The concept of a Supreme Being is, in many respects, a very 
 useful idea, but, being an idea only, it is quite incapable of in- 
 creasing, tjy itself alone, our knowledge with regard to what 
 exists. It cannot even do so much as to inform us any further 
 as to its possibility. The analytical characteristic of possibility, 
 which consists in the absence of contradiction in mere 'positions 
 (realities), cannot be denied to it; but the connection of all real 
 properties in one and the same thing is a synthesis the possibil- 
 ity of which we cannot judge a priori because these realities are 
 not given to us as such, and because, even if this were so, no 
 judgment whatever takes place, it being necessary to look for the 
 characteristic of the possibility of synthetical knowledge in ex- 
 perience only, to which the object of an idea can never belong. 
 Thus we see that the celebrated Leibnitz is far from having 
 achieved what he thought he had, namely, to understand a priori 
 the possibility of so sublime an ideal Being. 
 
 Time and labour therefore are lost on the famous ontological 
 (Cartesian) proof of the existence of a Supreme Being from mere 
 concepts ; and a man might as well imagine that he could become 
 richer in knowledge by mere ideas, as a merchant in capital, if, 
 in order to improve his position, he were to add a few thoughts 
 to his cash account. 
 
452 KANT 
 
 SECTION V. THE COSMOLOGICAL PROOF 
 
 The cosmological proof, which we have now to examine, retains 
 the connection of absolute necessity with the highest reality, but 
 instead of concluding, like the former, from the highest reality 
 necessity in existence, it concludes from the given unconditioned 
 necessity of any being, its unlimited reality. It thus brings 
 everything at least into the groove of a natural, though I know 
 not whether of a really or only apparently rational syllogism, 
 which carries the greatest conviction, not only for the com- 
 mon, but also for the speculative understanding, and has evi- 
 dently drawn the first outline of all proofs of natural theology, 
 which have been followed at all times, and will be followed 
 in future also, however much they may be hidden and disguised. 
 We shall now proceed to exhibit and to examine this .cosmo- 
 logical proof which Leibnitz calls also the proof a contingentia 
 mundi. * 
 
 It runs as follows: If there exists anything, there must exist 
 an absolutely necessary Being also. Now I, at least, exist ; there- 
 fore there exists an absolutely necessary Being. The minor con- 
 tains an experience, the major the conclusion from experience 
 in general to the existence of the necessary. This proof there- 
 fore begins with experience, and is not entirely a priori, or onto- 
 logical ; and, as the object of all possible experience is called the 
 world, this proof is called the cosmological proof. -As it takes 
 no account of any peculiar property of the objects of experience, 
 by which this world of ours may differ from any other possible 
 world, it is distinguished, in its name also, from the physico- 
 theological proof, which employs as arguments, observations of 
 the peculiar property of this our world of sense. 
 
 The proof then proceeds as follows : The necessary Being can 
 be determined in one way only, that is, by one only of all possible 
 opposite predicates ; it must therefore be determined completely 
 by its own concept. Now, there is only one concept of a thing 
 possible, which a priori completely determines it, namely, that 
 of the ens realissimum. It follows, therefore, that the concept 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 453 
 
 of the ens realissimum is the only one by which a necessary 
 Being can be thought, and therefore it is concluded that a high- 
 est Being exists by necessity. 
 
 I said before that a whole nest of dialectical assumptions was 
 hidden in that cosmological proof, and that transcendental crit- 
 icism might easily detect and destroy it. I shall here enumerate 
 them only, leaving it to the experience of the reader to follow 
 up the fallacies and remove them. 
 
 We find, first, the transcendental principle of inferring a 
 cause from the accidental. This principle, that everything con- 
 tingent must have a cause, is valid in the world of sense only, 
 and has not even a meaning outside it. For the purely intellectual 
 concept of the contingent cannot produce a synthetical propo- 
 sition like that of causality, and the principle of causality has 
 no meaning and no criterion of its use, except in the world 
 of sense, while here it is meant to help us beyond the world of 
 sense. 
 
 Secondly. The inference of a first cause, based on the im- 
 possibility of an infinite ascending series of given causes in this 
 world of sense, an inference which the principles of the use 
 of reason do not allow us to draw even in experience, while 
 here we extend that principle beyond experience, whither that 
 series can never be prolonged. 
 
 Thirdly. The false self-satisfaction of reason with regard to 
 the completion of that series, brought about by removing in the 
 end every kind of condition, without which, nevertheless, no 
 concept of necessity is possible, and by then, when any definite 
 concepts have become impossible, accepting this as a comple- 
 tion of our concept. 
 
 Fourthly. The mistaking the logical possibility of a concept 
 of all united reality (without any internal contradiction) for the 
 transcendental, which requires a principle for the practicability 
 of such a synthesis, such principle however being applicable to 
 the field of possible experience only, etc. . . . 
 
454 
 
 KANT 
 
 SECTION VI. THE PHYSICO-THEOLOGICAL PROOF 
 
 If, then, neither the concept of things in general, nor the 
 experience of any existence in general, can satisfy our demands, 
 there still remains one way open, namely, to try whether any 
 definite experience, and consequently that of things in the world 
 as it is, their constitution and disposition, may not supply a proof 
 which could give us the certain conviction of the existence of a 
 Supreme Being. Such a proof we should call physico-theological. 
 If that, however, should prove impossible too, then it is clear 
 that no satisfactory proof whatever, from merely speculative 
 reason, is possible, in support of the existence of a Being, cor- 
 responding to our transcendental idea. 
 
 This proof will always deserve to be treated with respect. It 
 is the oldest, the clearest, and most in conformity with human 
 reason. It gives life to the study of nature, deriving its own 
 existence from it, and thus constantly acquiring new vigour. 
 
 The principal points of the physico-theological proof are the 
 following, i st. There are everywhere in the world clear indica- 
 tions of an intentional arrangement carried out with great wis- 
 dom, and forming a whole indescribably varied in its contents 
 and infinite in extent. 
 
 2dly. The fitness of this arrangement is entirely foreign to 
 the things existing in the world, and belongs to them contin- 
 gently only; that is, the nature of different things could never 
 spontaneously, by the combination of so many means, co-operate 
 towards definite aims, if these means had not been selected and 
 arranged on purpose by a rational disposing principle, according 
 to certain fundamental ideas. 
 
 3dly. There exists, therefore, a sublime and wise cause (or 
 many), which must be the cause of the world, not only as a blind 
 and all-powerful nature, by means of unconscious fecundity, but 
 as an intelligence, by freedom. 
 
 4thly. The unity of that cause may be inferred with certainty 
 from the unity of the reciprocal relation of the parts of the 
 
CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON 455 
 
 world, as portions of a skilful edifice, so far as our experience 
 reaches, and beyond it, with plausibility, according to the prin- 
 ciples of analogy. 
 
 According to this argument, the fitness and harmony existing 
 in so many works of nature might prove the contingency of the 
 form, but not of the matter, that is, the substance in the world, 
 because, for the latter purpose, it would be necessary to prove 
 in addition, that the things of the world were in themselves in- 
 capable of such order and harmony, according to general laws, 
 unless there existed, even in their substance, the product of a 
 supreme wisdom. For this purpose, very different arguments 
 would be required from those derived from the analogy of 
 human art. The utmost, therefore, that could be established 
 by such a proof would be an architect of the world, always very 
 much hampered by the quality of the material with which he 
 has to work, not a creator, to whose idea everything is subject. 
 This would by no means suffice for the purposed aim of proving 
 an all-sufficient original Being. If we wished to prove the con- 
 tingency of matter itself, we must have recourse to a transcen- 
 dental argument, and this is the very thing which was to be 
 avoided. 
 
 The fact is that, after having reached the stage of admiration 
 of the greatness, the wisdom, the power, etc. of the Author of 
 the world, and seeing no further advance possible, one suddenly 
 leaves the argument carried on by empirical proofs, and lays 
 hold of that contingency which, from the very first, was inferred 
 from the order and design of the world. The next step from 
 that contingency leads, by means of transcendental concepts 
 only, to the existence of something absolutely necessary, and 
 another step from the absolute necessity of the first cause to its 
 completely determined or determining concept, namely, that of 
 an all-embracing reality. Thus we see that the physico-theologi- 
 cal proof, baffled in its own undertaking, takes suddenly refuge 
 in the cosmological proof, and as this is only the ontological 
 proof in disguise, it really carries out its original intention by 
 
456 KANT 
 
 means of pure reason only; though it so strongly disclaimed in 
 the beginning all connection with it, and professed to base every- 
 thing on clear proofs from experience. 
 
 Thus we have seen that the physico-theological proof rests on 
 the cosmological, and the cosmological on the ontological proof 
 of the existence of one original Being as the Supreme Being; 
 and, as besides these three, there is no other path open to spec- 
 ulative reason, the ontological proof, based exclusively on pure 
 concepts of reason, is the only possible one, always supposing 
 that any proof of a proposition, so far transcending all empirical 
 use of the understanding, is possible at all. 
 
CRITIQUE OF PRACTICAL REASON 
 
 Translated from the German * by 
 THOMAS KINGSMILL ABBOTT 
 
 BOOK I. THE ANALYTIC OF PURE PRAC- 
 TICAL REASON 
 
 CHAPTER I. OF THE PRINCIPLES OF PURE 
 PRACTICAL REASON 
 
 SECTION I. DEFINITION 
 
 PRACTICAL Principles are propositions which contain a general 
 determination of the will, having under it several practical rules. 
 They are subjective, or Maxims, when the condition is regarded 
 by the subject as valid only for his own will, but are objective, 
 or practical laws, when the condition is recognized as objective, 
 that is, valid for the will of every rational being, f 
 
 SECTION II. THEOREM I 
 
 All practical principles which presuppose an object (matter) 
 of the faculty of desire as the ground of determination of the 
 will are empirical, and can furnish no practical laws. 
 
 By the matter of the faculty of desire I mean an object the 
 realization of which is desired. Now, if the desire for this object 
 precedes the practical rule, and is the condition of our making 
 it a principle, then I say (in the first place) this principle is in 
 that case wholly empirical, for then what determines the choice 
 is the idea of an object, and that relation of this idea to the sub- 
 ject by which its -faculty of desire is determined to its realiza- 
 tion. Such a relation to the subject is called the pleasure in the 
 realization of an object. This, then, must be presupposed as a 
 
 * From the Kritik der praktischen Vernunjt, Riga, 1788; id., Werke, hrsg. v. 
 K. Rosenkranz, Lpz. 1838-39, Bd. x. Reprinted from Kant's Critique oj Pracli- 
 calReason,tra,ns. by T. K. Abbott, 5th ed., London, Longmans, Green & Co., 1898. 
 
 f " Remarks " by Kant under Sections I-V have been omitted. 
 
458 KANT 
 
 condition of the possibility of determination of the will. But it 
 is impossible to know a priori of any idea of an object whether 
 it will be connected with pleasure or pain, or be indifferent. In 
 such cases, therefore, the determining principle of the choice 
 must be empirical, and, therefore, also the practical material 
 principle which presupposes it as a condition. 
 
 In the second place, since susceptibility to a pleasure or pain 
 can be known only empirically, and cannot hold in the same 
 degree for all rational beings, a principle which is based on this 
 subjective condition may serve indeed as a maxim for the sub- 
 ject which possesses this susceptibility, but not as a law even 
 to him (because it is wanting in objective necessity, which must 
 be recognized a priori) ; it follows, therefore, that such a prin- 
 ciple can never furnish a practical law. 
 
 SECTION III. THEOREM II 
 
 All material practical principles as such are of one and the 
 same kind, and come under the general principle of self-love or 
 private happiness. 
 
 Pleasure arising from the idea of the existence of a thing, in 
 so far as it is to determine the desire of this thing, is founded 
 on the susceptibility of the subject, since it depends 6n the pre- 
 sence of an object; hence it belongs to sense (feeling), and not 
 to understanding, which expresses a relation of the idea to an 
 object according to concepts, not to the subject according to 
 feelings. It is then practical only in so far as the faculty of de- 
 sire is determined by the sensation of agreeableness which the 
 subject expects from the actual existence of the object. Now, 
 a rational being's consciousness of the pleasantness of life un- 
 interruptedly accompanying his whole existence is happiness, 
 and the principle which makes this the supreme ground of 
 determination of the will is the principle of self-love. All mate- 
 rial principles, then, which place the determining ground of 
 the will in the pleasure or pain to be received from the existence 
 of any object are all of the same kind, inasmuch as they all be- 
 long to the principle of self-love or private happiness. 
 
CRITIQUE OF PRACTICAL REASON 459 
 
 Corollary. 
 
 All material practical rules place the determining principle 
 of the will in the lower desires, and if there were no purely formal 
 laws of the will adequate to determine it, then we could not 
 admit any higher desire at all. 
 
 SECTION IV. THEOREM III 
 
 A rational being cannot regard his maxims as practical uni- 
 versal laws, unless he conceives them as principles which deter- 
 mine the will, not by their matter, but by their form only. 
 
 By the matter of a practical principle I mean the object of 
 the will. This object is either the 'determining ground of the 
 will or it is not. In the former case the rule of the will is sub- 
 jected to an empirical condition (viz. the relation of the deter- 
 mining idea to the feeling of pleasure and pain), consequently 
 it cannot be a practical law. Now, when we abstract from a 
 law all matter, i. e. every object of the will (as a determining 
 principle), nothing is left but the mere form of a universal legis- 
 lation. Therefore, either a rational being cannot conceive his 
 subjective practical principles, that is, his maxims, as being at 
 the same time universal laws, or he must suppose that their 
 mere form, by which they are fitted for universal legislation, is 
 alone what makes them practical laws. 
 
 SECTION V. PROBLEM I 
 
 Supposing that the mere legislative form of maxims is alone 
 the sufficient determining principle of a will, to find the nature 
 of the will which can be determined by it alone. 
 
 Since the bare form of the law can only be conceived by rea- 
 son, and is, therefore, not an object of the senses, and conse- 
 quently does not belong to the class of phenomena, it follows 
 that the idea of it, which determines the will, is distinct from all 
 the principles that determine events in nature according to the 
 law of causality, because in their case the determining princi- 
 
460 KANT 
 
 pies must themselves be phenomena. Now, if no other deter- 
 mining principle can serve as a law for the will except that uni- 
 versal legislative form, such a will must be conceived as quite 
 independent on the natural law of phenomena in their mutual 
 relation, namely, the law of causality; such independence is 
 called freedom in the strictest, that is in the transcendental 
 sense; consequently, a will which can have its law in nothing 
 but the mere legislative form of the maxim is a free will. 
 
 SECTION VI. PROBLEM II 
 
 Supposing that a will is free, to find the law which alone is 
 competent to determine it necessarily. 
 
 Since the matter of the practical law, i. e. an object of the 
 maxim, can never be given otherwise than empirically, and the 
 free will is independent on empirical conditions (that is, condi- 
 tions belonging to the world of sense) and yet is determinable, 
 consequently a free will must find its principle of determination 
 in the law, and yet independently of the matter of the law. But, 
 besides the matter of the law, nothing is contained in it except 
 the legislative form. It is the legislative form, then, contained 
 in the maxim, which can alone constitute a principle of deter- 
 mination of the [free] will. 
 
 Remark. 
 
 Thus freedom and an unconditional practical law recipro- 
 cally imply each other. Now I do not ask here whether they 
 are in fact distinct, or whether an unconditioned law is not 
 rather merely the consciousness of a pure practical reason, and 
 the latter identical with the positive concept of freedom ; I only 
 ask, whence begins our knowledge of the unconditionally practi- 
 cal, whether it is from freedom or from the practical law? Now 
 it cannot begin from freedom, for of this we cannot be imme- 
 diately conscious, since the first concept of it is negative; nor 
 can we infer it from experience, for experience gives us the 
 knowledge only of the law of phenomena, and hence of the 
 mechanism of nature, the direct opposite of freedom. It is 
 
CRITIQUE OF PRACTICAL REASON 461 
 
 therefore the moral law, of which we become directly conscious 
 (as soon as we trace for ourselves maxims of the will), that first 
 presents itself to us, and leads directly to the concept of freedom, 
 inasmuch as reason presents it as a principle of determination 
 not to be outweighed by any sensible conditions, nay, wholly 
 independent of them. 
 
 SECTION VII. FUNDAMENTAL LAW OF THE PURE PRACTICAL 
 
 REASON 
 
 Act so that the maxim of thy will can always at the same time 
 hold good as a principle of universal legislation. 
 
 Remark. 
 
 . . . We may call the consciousness of this fundamental law 
 a fact of reason, because we cannot reason it out from ante- 
 cedent data of reason, e. g. the consciousness of freedom (for 
 this is not antecedently given), but it forces itself on us as a syn- 
 thetic a priori proposition which is not based on any intui- 
 tion, either pure or empirical. It would, indeed, be analytical if 
 the freedom of the will were presupposed, but to presuppose free- 
 dom as a positive concept would require an intellectual intui- 
 tion, which cannot here be assumed ; however, when we regard 
 this law as given, it must be observed, in order not to fall into 
 any misconception, that it is not an empirical fact, but the sole 
 fact of the pure reason, which thereby announces itself as origi- 
 nally legislative (sic volo sic jubeo). 
 
 Corollary. 
 
 Pure reason is practical of itself alone, and gives (to man) a 
 universal law which we call the Moral Law. 
 
 Remark. 
 
 Now this principle of morality, just on account of the univer- 
 sality of the legislation which makes -it the formal supreme 
 determining principle of the will, without regard to any ^sub- 
 jective differences, is declared by the reason to be a law for all 
 rational beings, in so far as they have a will, that is, a power to 
 
462 KANT 
 
 determine their causality by the conception of rules ; and, there- 
 fore, so far as they are capable of acting according to principles, 
 and consequently also according to practical a priori princi- 
 ples (for these alone have the necessity that reason requires 
 in a principle). It is, therefore, not limited to men only, but 
 applies to all finite beings that possess reason and will ; nay, it 
 even includes the Infinite Being as the supreme intelligence. In 
 the former case, however, the law has the form of an imperative, 
 because in them, as rational beings, we can suppose a pure will, 
 but being creatures affected with wants and physical motives, 
 not a holy will, that is, one which would be incapable of any 
 maxim conflicting with the moral law. In their case, therefore, 
 the moral law is an imperative, which commands categorically, 
 because the law is unconditioned; the relation of such a will 
 to this law is dependence under the name of obligation, which 
 implies a constraint to an action, though only by reason and its 
 objective law ; and this action is called duty, because an elective 
 will, subject to pathological affections (though not determined 
 by them, and therefore still free), implies a wish that arises 
 from subjective causes, and therefore may often be opposed to 
 the pure objective determining principle ; whence it requires the 
 moral constraint of a resistance of the practical reason, which 
 may be called an internal, but intellectual, compulsion. In the 
 supreme intelligence the elective will is rightly conceived as in- 
 capable of any maxim which could not at the same time be 
 objectively a law; and the notion of holiness, which on that 
 account belongs to it, places it, not indeed above all practical 
 laws, but above all practically restrictive laws, and consequently 
 above obligation and duty. This holiness of will is, however, a 
 practical idea, which must necessarily serve as a type to which 
 finite rational beings can only approximate indefinitely, and 
 which the pure moral law, which is itself on this account called 
 holy, constantly and rightly holds before their eyes. The utmost 
 that finite practical reason can effect is to be certain of this in- 
 definite progress of one's maxims, and of their steady disposition 
 to advance. This is virtue, and virtue, at least as a naturally 
 acquired faculty, can never be perfect, because assurance in 
 
CRITIQUE OF PRACTICAL REASON 463 
 
 such a case never becomes apodictic certainty, and when it only 
 amounts to persuasion is very dangerous. 
 
 SECTION VIII. THEOREM IV 
 
 The autonomy of the will is the sole principle of all moral 
 laws, and of all duties which conform to them ; on the other hand, 
 heteronomy of the elective will not only cannot be the basis of 
 any obligation, but is, on the contrary, opposed to the principle 
 thereof, and to the morality of the will. 
 
 In fact the sole principle of morality consists in the indepen- 
 dence on all matter of the law (namely, a desired object), and 
 in the determination of the elective will by the mere universal 
 legislative form of which its maxim must be capable. Now this 
 independence is freedom in the negative sense, and this self-legis- 
 lation of the pure, and, therefore, practical reason is freedom 
 in the positive sense. Thus the moral law expresses nothing else 
 than the autonomy of the pure practical reason; that is, freedom; 
 and this is itself the formal condition of all maxims, and on this 
 condition only can they agree with the supreme practical law. 
 If therefore the matter of the volition, which can be nothing else 
 than the object of a desire that is connected with the law, enters 
 into the practical law, as the condition of its possibility, there 
 results heteronomy of the elective will, namely, dependence on 
 the physical law that we should follow some impulse or inclina- 
 tion. In that case the will does not give itself the law, but only 
 the precept how rationally to follow pathological law; and the 
 maxim which, in such a case, never contains the universally 
 legislative form, not only produces no obligation, but is itself 
 opposed to the principle of a pure practical reason, and, there- 
 fore, also to the moral disposition, even though the resulting 
 action may be conformable to the law. 
 
 Remark I 
 
 The matter then of the maxim may remain, but it must not 
 be the condition of it, else the maxim could not be fit for a law. 
 Hence, the mere form of law, which limits the matter, must also 
 
464 KANT 
 
 be a reason for adding this matter to the will, not for presup- 
 posing it. For example, let the matter be my own happiness. 
 This (rule), if I attribute it to every one (as, in fact, I may, in the 
 case of every finite being), can become an objective practical 
 law only if I include the happiness of others. Therefore, the 
 law that we should promote the happiness of others does not 
 arise from the assumption that this is an object of everyone's 
 choice, but merely from this, that the form of universality which 
 reason requires as the condition of giving to a maxim of self- 
 love the objective validity of a law, is the principle that deter- 
 mines the will. Therefore it was not the object (the happiness 
 of others) that determined the pure will, but it was the form of 
 law only, by which I restricted my maxim, founded on inclina- 
 tion, so as to give it the universality of a law, and thus to adapt 
 it to the practical reason ; and it is this restriction alone, and not 
 the addition of an external spring, that can give rise to the notion 
 of the obligation to extend the maxim of my self-love to the hap- 
 piness of others. 
 
 CHAPTER II. THE CONCEPT OF AN OBJECT OF 
 PURE PRACTICAL REASON 
 
 By a concept of the practical reason I understand the idea of 
 an object as an effect. possible to be produced through freedom. 
 To be an object of practical knowledge, as such, signifies, there- 
 fore, only the relation of the will to the action by which the 
 object or its opposite would be realized ; and to decide whether 
 something is an object of pure practical reason or not, is only to 
 discern the possibility or impossibility of willing the 'action by 
 which, if we had the required power (about which experience 
 must decide), a certain object would be realized. If the object 
 be taken as the determining principle of our desire, it must first 
 be known whether it is physically possible by the free use of our 
 powers, before we decide whether it is an object of practical 
 reason or not. On the other hand, if the law can be considered 
 a priori as the determining principle of the action, and the latter 
 
CRITIQUE OF PRACTICAL REASON 465 
 
 therefore as determined by pure practical reason, the judgment, 
 whether a thing is an object of pure practical reason or not does 
 not depend at all on the comparison with our physical power; 
 and the question is only whether we should will an action that 
 is directed to the existence of an object, if the object were in OUT 
 power ; hence the previous question is only jis to the moral possi- 
 bility of the action, for in this case it is not the object, but the 
 law of the will, that is the determining principle of the action. 
 The only objects of practical reason are therefore those of good, \ 
 and evil. For by the former is meant an object necessarily de7 
 sired according to a principle of reason ; by the latter one neces- 
 sarily shunned, also according to a principle of reason. ' 
 
 In estimating what is good or evil in itself, as distinguished 
 from what can be so called only relatively, the following points 
 are to be considered. Either a rational principle is already con.- 
 ceived al^oyitself the determining principle of the will, without 
 regard to possible objects of desire (and therefore by the mere 
 legislative form of the maxim), and in that case that principle 
 is a practical a priori law, and pure reason is supposed to be 
 practical of itself. The law in that case determines the will 
 directly ; the action conformed to it is good in itself ; a will whose 
 maxim always conforms to this law is good absolutely in every 
 respect, and is the supreme condition of all good. Or the maxim X 
 of the will is consequent on a determining principle of desire 
 which presupposes an object of pleasure or pain, something 
 therefore that pleases or displeases, and the maxim of reason 
 that we should pursue the former and avoid the latter determines 
 our actions as good relatively to our inclination, that is, good 
 indirectly (i. e. relatively to a different end to which they are 
 means), and in that case these maxims can never be called laws, 
 but may be called rational practical .precepts. The end itself, 
 the pleasure that we seek, is in the latter case not a good but a 
 welfare ; not a concept of reason, but an empirical concept of 
 an object of sensation ; but the use of the means thereto, that 
 is, the action, is nevertheless called good (because rational de- 
 liberation is required for it), not however good absolutely, but . 
 
466 KANT 
 
 only relatively to our sensuous nature, with regard to its feelings 
 of pleasure and displeasure ; but the will whose maxim is affected 
 thereby is not a pure will ; this is directed only to that in which 
 pure reason by itself can be practical. 
 
 Now, since the notions of good and evil, as consequences of 
 the a priori determination of the will, imply also a pure prac- 
 tical principle, and therefore a causality of pure reason; hence 
 they do not originally refer to objects (so as to be, for instance, 
 special modes of the synthetic unity of the manifold of given 
 intuitions in one consciousness) like the pure concepts of the 
 understanding or categories of reason in its theoretic employ- 
 ment; on the contrary, they presuppose that objects are given; 
 but they are all modes (modi) of a single category, namely, 
 that of causality, the determining principle of which consists 
 in the rational conception of a law, which as a law of freedom 
 reason gives to itself, thereby a priori proving itself practical. 
 However, as the actions on the one side come under a law which 
 is not a physical law, but a law of freedom, and consequently 
 belong to the conduct of beings in the world of intelligence, yet 
 on the other side as events in the world of sense they belong to 
 phenomena; hence the determinations of a practical reason are 
 only possible in reference to the lajtter, and therefore in accord- 
 ance with the categories of the understanding; not indeed with 
 a view to any theoretic employment of it, i. e. so as to bring 
 the manifold of (sensible) intuition under one consciousness a 
 priori; but only to subject the manifold of desires to the unity 
 of consciousness of a practical reason, giving it commands jn 
 the moral law, i. e. to a pure, will a priori. 
 
 CHAPTER III. OF THE MOTIVES OF PURE 
 PRACTICAL REASON 
 
 What is essential in the moral worth of actions is that the moral 
 law should directly determine the will. If the determination of 
 the will takes place in conformity indeed to the moral law, but 
 
CRITIQUE OF PRACTICAL REASON 467 
 
 only by means of a feeling, no matter of what kind, which has 
 to be presupposed in order that the law may be sufficient to 
 determine the will, and therefore not jor the sake of the law, then 
 the action will possess legality but not morality. Now, if we 
 understand by motive [or spring] (elater animi) the subjective 
 ground of determination of the will of a being whose Reason 
 does not necessarily conform to the objective law, by virtue of 
 its own nature, then it will follow, first, that no motives can be 
 attributed to the Divine will, and that the motives of the human 
 will (as well as that of every created rational being) can never 
 be anything else than the moral law, and consequently that the 
 objective principle of determination must always and alone 
 be also the subjectively sufficient determining principle of the 
 action, if this is not merely to fulfil the letter of the law, without 
 containing its spirit. 
 
 Since, then, for the purpose of giving the moral law influence 
 over the will, we must not seek for any other motives that might 
 enable us to dispense with the motive of the law itself, because 
 that would produce mere hypocrisy, without consistency; and 
 it is even dangerous to allow other motives (for instance, that of 
 interest) even to co-operate along with the moral law; hence 
 nothing is left us but to determine carefully in what way the 
 moral law becomes a motive, and what effect this has upon the 
 faculty of desire. For as to the question how a law can be directly 
 and of itself a determining principle of the will (which is the 
 essence of morality), this is, for human reason, an insoluble 
 problem and identical with the question how a free will is 
 possible. Therefore what we have to show a priori is, not why 
 the moral law in itself supplies a motive, but what effect it, as 
 such, produces (or, more correctly speaking, must produce) 
 on the mind. 
 
 The essential point in every determination of the will by the 
 moral law is that being a free will it is determined simply by 
 the moral law, not only without the co-operation of sensible 
 impulses, but even to the rejection of all such, and to the check- 
 ing of all inclinations so far as they might be opposed to that 
 law. So far, then, the effect of the moral law as a motive is only 
 
4 68 KANT 
 
 negative, and this motive can be known a priori to be such. 
 For all inclination and every sensible impulse is founded on 
 feeling, and the negative effect produced on feeling (by the 
 check on the inclinations) is itself feeling ; consequently, we can 
 see a priori that the moral law^ as a determining principle of 
 the will, must by thwarting all our inclinations produce a feeling 
 which may be called pain ; and in this we have the first, perhaps 
 the only instance, in which we are able from a priori consid- 
 erations to determine the relation of a cognition (in this case of 
 pure practical reason) to the feeling of pleasure or displeasure. 
 All the inclinations together (which can be reduced to a toler- 
 able system, in which case their satisfaction is called happi- 
 ness) constitute self-regard (solipsismus). This is either the self- 
 love that consists in an excessive fondness for oneself (philautia) , 
 or satisfaction with oneself (arrogantia). The former is called 
 particularly selfishness ; the latter self-conceit. Pure practical 
 reason only checks selfishness, looking on it as natural and active 
 in us even prior to the moral law, so far as to limit it to the con- 
 dition of agreement with this law, and then it is called rational 
 self-love. But self-conceit Reason strikes down altogether, since 
 all claims to self-esteem which precede agreement with the moral 
 law are vain and unjustifiable, for the certainty of a state of 
 mind that coincides with this law is the first condition of per- 
 sonal worth (as we shall presently show more clearly), and prior 
 to this conformity any pretension to worth is false and unlawful. 
 Now the propensity to self-esteem is one of the inclinations which 
 the moral law checks, inasmuch as that esteem rests only on 
 morality. Therefore, the moral law breaks down self-conceit. 
 But as this law is something positive in itself, namely, the form 
 of an intellectual causality, that is, of freedom, it must be an 
 object of respect ; for by opposing the subjective antagonism of 
 the inclinations it weakens self-conceit ; and since it ev^n breaks 
 down, that is, humiliates this conceit, it is an object of the high- 
 est respect, and consequently is the foundation of a positive 
 feeling which is not of empirical origin, but is known a priori^ 
 Therefore respect for the moral law is a feeling which is pro- 
 duced by an intellectual cause, and this feeling is the only one 
 
CRITIQUE OF PRACTICAL REASON 469 
 
 that we know quite a priori, and the necessity of which we can 
 perceive. 
 
 The moral law is in fact for the will of a perfect being a 
 law of holiness, but for the will of every finite rational being 
 a law of duty, of moral constraint, and of the determination 
 of its actions by respect for this law and reverence for its 
 duty. No other subjective principle must be assumed as a mo- 
 tive, else while the action might chance to be such as the law 
 prescribes, yet as it does not proceed from duty, the intention, 
 which is the thing properly in question in this legislation, is not 
 moral. 
 
 It is a very beautiful thing to do good to men from love to 
 them and from sympathetic good will, or to be just from love 
 of order; but this is not yet the true moral maxim of our con- 
 duct which is suitable to our position amongst rational beings 
 as men, when we pretend with fanciful pride to set ourselves 
 above the thought of duty, like volunteers, and, as if we were 
 independent on the command, to want to do of our own good 
 pleasure what we think we need no command to do. We stand 
 under a discipline of reason, and in all our maxims must not 
 forget our subjection to it, nor withdraw anything therefrom, 
 or by an egotistic presumption diminish aught of the authority 
 of the law (although our own -reason gives it) so as to set the 
 determining principle of our will, even though the law be con- 
 formed to, anywhere else but in the law itself and in respect for 
 this law. Duty and obligation are the only names that we must 
 give to our relation to the moral law. We are indeed legislative 
 members of a moral kingdom rendered possible by freedom, 
 and presented to us by reason as an object of respect ; but yet 
 we are subjects in it, not the sovereign, and to mistake our in- 
 ferior position as creatures and presumptuously to reject the 
 authority of the moral law is already to revolt from it in spirit, 
 even though the letter of it is fulfilled. 
 
 Duty! Thou sublime and mighty name that dost embrace 
 nothing charming or insinuating, but requirest submission, and 
 
470 KANT 
 
 yet seekest not to move the will by threatening aught that would 
 arouse natural aversion or terror, but merely boldest forth a 
 law which of itself finds entrance into the mind, and yet gains 
 reluctant reverence (though not always obedience), a law before 
 which all inclinations are dumb, even though they secretly 
 counter- work it ; what origin is there worthy of thee, and where 
 is to be found the root of thy noble descent which proudly re- 
 jects all kindred with the inclinations ; a root to be derived from 
 which is the indispensable condition of the only worth which 
 men can give themselves? 
 
 It can be nothing less than a power which elevates man above 
 himself (as a part of the world -of sense), a power which con- 
 nects him with an order of things that only the understanding 
 can conceive, with a world which at the same time commands 
 the whole sensible world, and with it the empirically determin- 
 able existence of man in time, as well as the sum total of all ends 
 (which totality alone suits such unconditional practical laws 
 as the moral). This power is nothing but personality, that is, 
 freedom and independence on the mechanism of nature, yet, 
 regarded also as a faculty of a being which is subject to. special 
 laws, namely, pure practical laws given by its own reason; so 
 that the person as belonging to the sensible world is subject to 
 his own personality as belonging to the intelligible [super-sen- 
 sible] world. It is then not to be wondered at that man, as be- 
 longing to both worlds, must regard his own nature in reference 
 to its second and highest characteristic only with reverence, 
 and its laws with the highest respect. 
 
 On this origin are founded many expressions which designate 
 the worth of objects according to moral ideas. The moral law 
 is holy (inviolable). Man is indeed unholy enough, but he must 
 regard humanity in his own person as holy. In all creation 
 everything one chooses, and over which one has any power, 
 may be used merely as means; man alone, and with him every 
 rational creature, is an end in himself. By virtue of the auto- 
 nomy of his freedom he is the subject of the moral law, which 
 is holy. Just for this reason every will, even every person's own 
 individual will, in relation to itself, is restricted to the condition 
 
CRITIQUE OF PRACTICAL REASON 471 
 
 of agreement with the autonomy of the rational being, that is to 
 say, that it is not to be subject to any purpose which cannc 
 accord with a law which might arise from the will of the passiv 
 subject himself; the latter is, therefore, never to be employe 1 
 merely as means, but as itself also, concurrently, an end. V 
 justly attribute this condition even to the Divine will, with ) 
 gard to the rational beings in the world, which are His creatur f 
 since it rests on their personality, by which alone they are \ r e 
 in themselves. 
 
 BOOK II. - DIALECTIC OF PURE PRACTICAL 
 
 REASON 
 
 CHAPTER I. OF A DIALECTIC OF PURE PRAC- 
 TICAL REASON GENERALLY 
 
 Pure reason always has its dialectic, whether it is considered 
 in its speculative or its practical employment; for it requires 
 the absolute totality of the conditions of what is given condi- 
 tioned, and this can only be found in things in themselves. But 
 as all conceptions of things in themselves must be referred to 
 intuitions, and with us men these can never be other than sen- 
 sible, and hence can never enable us to know objects as things 
 in themselves but only as appearances, and since the uncon- 
 ditioned can never be found in this chain of appearances which 
 consists only of conditioned and conditions; thus from apply- 
 ing this rational idea of the totality of the conditions (in other 
 words of the unconditioned) to appearances there arises an in- 
 evitable illusion, as if these latter were things in themselves (for 
 in the absence of a warning critique they are always regarded 
 as such). This illusion would never be noticed as delusive if it 
 did not betray itself by a conflict of reason with itself, when it 
 applies to appearances its fundamental principle of presuppos- 
 ing the unconditioned to everything conditioned. By this, how- 
 ever, reason is compelled to trace this illusion to its source, and 
 search how it can be removed, and this can only be done by a 
 
472 KANT 
 
 complete critical examination of the whole pure faculty of rea- 
 son ; so that the antinomy of the pure reason which is manifest 
 in its dialectic is in fact the most beneficial error into which 
 human reason could ever have fallen, since it at last drives us to 
 ^earch for the key to escape from this labyrinth ; and when this 
 c~ey is found, it further discovers that which we did not seek 
 i&it yet had need of, namely, a view into a higher and an im- 
 je-utable order of things, in which- we -even now are, and in which 
 wh are thereb.y.-eftftbfed "by definite precepts to continue to live 
 recording to the highest dictates of reason. 
 
 It may be seen in detail in the Critique of Pure Reason how 
 in its speculative employment this natural dialectic is to be 
 solved, and how the error which arises from a very natural illu- 
 sion may be guarded against. But reason in its practical use is 
 not a whit better off. As pure practical reason, it likewise seeks 
 to find the unconditioned for the practically conditioned (which 
 rests on inclinations and natural wants), and this not as the 
 determining principle of the will, but even when this is given 
 (in the moral law) it seeks the unconditioned totality of the 
 object of pure practical reason under the name of the Summum 
 Bonum. 
 
 The moral law is the sole determining principle of a pure 
 will. But since this is merely formal (viz. as prescribing only 
 the form of the maxim as universally legislative), it abstracts 
 as a determining principle from all matter that is to say, from 
 every object of volition. Hence, though the summum bonum 
 may be the whole object of a pure practical reason, i. e. a pure 
 will, yet it is not on that account to be regarded as its deter- 
 mining principle; and the moral law alone must be regarded as 
 the principle on which that and its realization or promotion are 
 aimed at. This remark is important in so delicate a case as the 
 determination of moral principles, where the slightest misin- 
 terpretation perverts men's minds. For it will have been seen 
 from the Analytic, that if we assume any object under the name 
 of a good as a determining principle of the will prior to the moral 
 law, and then deduce from it the supreme practical principle, 
 
CRITIQUE OF PRACTICAL REASON 473 
 
 this would always introduce heteronomy, and crush out the 
 moral principle. 
 
 It is, however, evident that if the notion of the summum bonum 
 includes that of the moral law as its supreme condition, then 
 the summum bonum would not merely be an object, but the notion 
 of it and the conception of its existence as possible by our own 
 practical reason, would likewise be the determining principle of 
 the will, since in that case the will is in fact determined by the 
 moral law which is already included in this conception, and by 
 no other object, as the principle of autonomy requires. This 
 order of the conceptions of determination of the will must not 
 be lost sight of, as otherwise we should misunderstand ourselves, 
 and think we had fallen into a contradiction, while everything 
 remains in perfect harmony. 
 
 CHAPTER II. THE "SUMMUM BONUM" 
 
 The conception of the summum itself contains an ambiguity 
 which might occasion needless disputes if we did not attend to 
 it. The summum may mean either the supreme (supremum) or 
 the perfect (consummatum). The former is that condition which 
 is itself unconditioned, i. e. is not subordinate to any other 
 (originarium) ; the second is that whole which is not a part of a 
 greater whole of the same kind (perfectissimum). It has been 
 shown in the Analytic that virtue (as worthiness to be happy) 
 is the supreme condition of all that can appear to us desirable, 
 and consequently of all our pursuit of happiness, and is there- 
 fore the supreme good. But it does not follow that it is the whole 
 and perfect good as the object of the desires of rational finite 
 beings; for this requires happiness also, and that not merely 
 in the partial eyes of the person who makes himself an end, 
 but even in the judgment of an impartial reason, which regards 
 persons in general as ends in themselves. For to need happiness, 
 to deserve it, and yet at the same time not to participate in it, 
 cannot be consistent with the perfect volition of a rational being 
 possessed at the same time of all power, if, for the sake of experi- 
 ment, we conceive such a being. Now inasmuch as virtue and 
 
474 KANT 
 
 happiness together constitute the possession of the summum 
 bonum in a person, and the distribution of happiness in exact 
 proportion to morality (which is the worth of the person, and 
 his worthiness to be happy) constitutes the summum bonum of 
 a possible world ; hence this summum bonum expresses the whole, 
 the perfect good, in which, however, virtue as the condition is 
 always the supreme good, since it has no condition above it; 
 whereas happiness, while it is pleasant to the possessor of it, is ' 
 not of itself absolutely and in all respects good, but always pre- 
 supposes morally right behaviour as its condition. . . . 
 
 I. THE ANTINOMY OF PRACTICAL REASON 
 
 In the summum bonum which is practical for us, i. e. to be 
 realised by our will, virtue and happiness are thought as neces- 
 sarily combined, so that the one cannot be assumed by pure 
 practical reason without the other also being attached to it. 
 Now this combination (like every other) is either analytical or 
 synthetical. It has been shown that it cannot be analytical; it 
 must then be synthetical, and, more particularly, must be con- 
 ceived as the connexion of cause and effect, since it concerns a 
 practical good, i. e. one that is possible by means of action; 
 consequently either the desire of happiness must be the motive 
 to maxims of virtue, or the maxim of virtue must be the efficient 
 cause of happiness. The first is absolutely impossible, because 
 (as was proved in the Analytic) maxims which place the deter- 
 mining principle of the will in the desire of personal happiness 
 are not moral at all, and no virtue can be founded-on them. But 
 the second is also impossible, because the practical connexion 
 of causes and effects in the world, as the result of the determina- 
 tion of the will, does not depend upon the moral dispositions 
 of the will, but on the knowledge of the laws of nature and the 
 physical power to use them for one's purposes ; consequently we 
 cannot expect in the world by the most punctilious observance 
 of the moral laws any necessary connexion of happiness with 
 virtue adequate to the summum bonum. Now as the promotion 
 of this summum bonum } the conception of which contains this 
 
CRITIQUE OF PRACTICAL REASON 475 
 
 connexion, is a priori a necessary object of our will, and in- 
 separably attached to the moral law, the impossibility of the 
 former must prove the falsity of the latter. If then the supreme 
 good is not possible by practical rules, then the moral law also 
 which commands us to promote it is directed to vain imaginary 
 ends, and must consequently be false. 
 
 II. CRITICAL SOLUTION OF THE ANTINOMY 
 
 The antinomy of pure speculative reason exhibits a similar 
 conflict between freedom and physical necessity in the causality 
 of events in the world. It was solved by showing that there is 
 no real contradiction when the events and even the world in 
 which they occur are regarded (as they ought to be) merely as 
 appearances; since one and the same acting being, as an ap- 
 pearance (even to his own inner sense) has a causality in the 
 world of sense that always conforms to the mechanism of nature, 
 but with respect to the same events, so far as the acting per- 
 son regards himself at the same time as a noumenon (as pure 
 intelligence in an existence not dependent on the condition of 
 time), he can contain a principle by which that causality acting 
 according to laws of nature is determined, but which is itself 
 free from all laws of nature. 
 
 It is just the same with the foregoing antinomy of pure prac- 
 tical reason. The first of the two propositions, That the endeav- 
 our after happiness produces a virtuous mind, is absolutely 
 jalse; but the second, That a virtuous mind necessarily produces 
 happiness, is not absolutely false, but only in so far as virtue is 
 considered as a form of causality in the sensible world, and con- 
 sequently only if I suppose existence in it to be the only sort of 
 existence of a rational being; it is then only conditionally false. 
 But as I am not only justified in thinking that I exist also as a 
 noumenon in a world of the understanding, but even have in 
 the moral law a purely intellectual determining principle of my 
 causality (in the sensible world), it is not impossible that moral- 
 lity of mind should have a connexion as cause with happiness 
 (as an effect in the sensible world) if not immediate yet mediate 
 
KANT 
 
 (viz.: through an intelligent author of nature), and moreover 
 necessary; while in a system of nature which is merely an ob- 
 ject of the senses this combination could never occur except 
 contingently, and therefore could not suffice for the summum 
 bonum. 
 
 Thus, notwithstanding this seeming conflict of practical 
 reason with itself, the summum bonum, which is the necessary 
 supreme end of a will morally determined, is a true object 
 thereof ; for it is practically possible, and the maxims of the will 
 which as regards their matter refer to it, have objective reality, 
 which at first was threatened by the antinomy that appeared 
 in the connexion of morality with happiness by a general law; 
 but this was merely from a misconception, because the relation 
 between appearances was taken for a relation of the things in 
 themselves to these appearances. 
 
 IV. THE IMMORTALITY or THE SOUL AS A POSTULATE OF 
 PURE PRACTICAL REASON 
 
 The realization of the summum bonum in the world is the 
 necessary object of a will determinable by the moral law. But 
 in this will the perfect accordance of the mind with the moral 
 law is the supreme condition of the summum bonum. This then 
 must be possible, as well as its object, since it is contained in 
 the command to promote the latter. Now, the perfect accord- 
 ance of the will with the moral law is holiness, a perfection of 
 which no rational being of the sensible world is capable at any 
 moment of his existence. Since, nevertheless, it is required as 
 practically necessary, it can only be found in a progress in in- 
 finitum towards that perfect accordance, and on the principles 
 of pure practical reason it is necessary to assume such a prac- 
 tical progress as the real object of our will. 
 
 Now, this endless progress is only possibk on the supposition 
 of an endless duration of the existence and personality of the 
 same rational being (which is called the immortality of the soul). 
 The summum bonum, then, practically is only possible on the 
 supposition of the immortality of the soul; consequently this 
 
CRITIQUE OF PRACTICAL REASON 477 
 
 immortality, being inseparably connected with the moral law, 
 is a postulate of pure practical reason (by which I mean a theo- 
 retical proposition, not demonstrable as such, but which is an 
 inseparable result of an unconditional a priori practical law). 
 
 This principle of the moral destination of our nature, namely, 
 that it is only in an endless progress that we can attain perfect 
 accordance with the moral law, is of the greatest use, not merely 
 for the present purpose of supplementing the impotence of specu- 
 lative reason, but also with respect to religion. In default of it, 
 either the moral law is quite degraded from its holiness, being 
 made out to be indulgent, and conformable to our convenience, 
 or else men strain their notions of their vocation and their ex- 
 pectation to an unattainable goal, hoping to acquire complete 
 holiness of will, and so they lose themselves in fanatical theo- 
 sophic dreams, which wholly contradict self-knowledge. In both 
 cases the unceasing effort to obey punctually and thoroughly a 
 strict and inflexible command of reason, which yet is not ideal 
 but real, is only hindered. For a rational but finite being, the 
 only thing possible is an endless progress from the lower to 
 higher degrees of moral perfection. The In-finite Bejng, to whom * 
 the condition of time is nothing, sees in this to us endless succes- 
 sion a whole of accordance with the moral law ; and the holiness 
 which His command inexorably requires, in order to be true to 
 His justice in the share which He assigns to each in the summum { 
 bonum, is to be found in a single intellectual intuition of the 
 whole existence of rational beings. All that can be expected of 
 the creature in respect of the hope of this participation would 
 be the consciousness of his tried character, by which, from the 
 progress he has hitherto made from the worse to the morally 
 better, and the immutability of purpose which has thus become 
 known to him, he may hope for a further unbroken continuance 
 of the same, however long his existence may last, even beyond 
 this life, and thus he may hope, not indeed here, nor at any 
 imaginable point of his future existence, but only in the endless- 
 ness of his duration (which God alone can survey) to be per- 
 fectly adequate to his will (without indulgence or excuse, which 
 do not harmonize with justice). 
 
478 KANT 
 
 V. THE EXISTENCE OF GOD AS A POSTULATE OF PURE 
 PRACTICAL REASON. 
 
 In the foregoing analysis the moral law led to a practical 
 problem which is prescribed by pure reason alone, without the 
 aid of any sensible motives, namely, that of the necessary com- 
 pleteness of the first and principal element of the summum 
 bonum, viz. Morality; and as this can be perfectly solved only 
 in eternity, to the postulate of immortality. The same law must 
 also lead us to affirm the possibility of the second element of 
 the summum bonum, viz. Happiness proportioned to that moral- 
 ity, and this on grounds as disinterested as before, and solely 
 from impartial reason ; that is, it must lead to the supposition of 
 the existence of a cause adequate to this effect ; in other words, 
 it must postulate the existence of God, as the necessary condition 
 of the possibility of the summum bonum (an object of the will 
 which is necessarily connected with the moral legislation of pure 
 reason). We proceed to exhibit this connexion in a convincing 
 manner. 
 
 Happiness is the condition of a rational being in the world 
 with whom everything goes according to his wish and will ; it rests, 
 therefore, on the harmony of physical nature with his whole 
 end, and likewise with the essential determining principle of 
 his will. Now the moral law as a law of freedom commands 
 by determining principles, which ought to be quite independ- 
 ent on nature and on its harmony with our faculty of desire 
 (as springs). But the acting rational being in the world is not 
 the cause of the world and of nature itself. There is not the 
 least ground, therefore, in the moral law for a necessary con- 
 nexion between morality and proportionate happiness in a being 
 that belongs to the world as part of it, and therefore dependent 
 on it, and which for that reason cannot by his will be a cause 
 of this nature, nor by his own power make it thoroughly har- 
 monize, as far as his happiness is concerned, with his practical 
 principles. Nevertheless, in the practical problem of pure rea- 
 son, i. e. the necessary pursuit of the summum bonum, such a 
 connexion is postulated as necessary : we ought to endeavour 
 
CRITIQUE OF PRACTICAL REASON 479 
 
 to promote the summum bonum, which, therefore, must be pos- 
 sible. Accordingly, the existence of a cause of all nature, distinct 
 from nature itself, and containing the principle of this connexion, 
 namely, of the exact harmony of happiness with morality, is 
 also postulated. Now, this supreme cause must contain the prin- 
 ciple of the harmony of nature, not merely with a law of the will 
 of rational beings, but with the conception of this law, in so far 
 as they make it the supreme determining principle of the will, 
 and consequently not merely with the form of morals, but with 
 their morality as their motive, that is, with their moral character. 
 Therefore, the summum bonum is possible in the world only on 
 the supposition of a supreme Being having a causality corre- 
 sponding to moral character. Now a being that is capable of 
 acting on the conception of laws is an intelligence (a rational 
 being), and the causality of such a being according to this con- 
 ception of laws is his will ; therefore the supreme cause of nature, 
 which must be presupposed as a condition of the summum 
 bonum, is a being which is the cause of nature by intelligence and 
 will, consequently its author, that is God. It follows that the 
 postulate of the possibility of the highest derived good (the best 
 world) is likewise the postulate of the reality of a highest original 
 good, that is to say, of the existence of God. Now it was seen 
 to be a duty for us to promote the summum bonum ; consequently 
 it is not merely allowable, but it is a necessity connected with 
 duty as a requisite, that we should presuppose the possibility of 
 this summum bonum; and as this is possible only on condition 
 of the existence of God, it inseparably connects the supposition 
 of this with duty ; that is, it is morally necessary to assume the 
 existence of God. 
 
 VI. THE POSTULATES OF PURE PRACTICAL REASON 
 
 They all proceed from the principle of morality, which is not 
 a postulate but a law, by which reason determines the will 
 directly, which will, because it is so determined as a pure will, 
 requires these necessary conditions of obedience to its precept. 
 These postulates are not theoretical dogmas, but suppositions 
 
480 KANT 
 
 practically necessary; while then they do [not] extend our 
 speculative knowledge, they give objective reality to the ideas 
 of speculative reason in general (by means of their reference to 
 what is practical), and give it a right to concepts, the possibility 
 even of which it could not otherwise venture to affirm. 
 
 These postulates are those of immortality, freedom positively 
 considered (as the causality of a being so far as he belongs to 
 the intelligible world), and the existence oj God. The first results 
 from the practically necessary condition of a duration adequate 
 to the complete fulfilment of the moral law; the second from 
 the necessary supposition of independence on the sensible world, 
 and of the faculty of determining one's will according to the law 
 of an intelligible world, that is, of freedom ; the third from the 
 necessary condition of the existence of the summum bonum in 
 such an intelligible world, by the supposition of the supreme 
 independent good, that is, the existence of God. 
 
 Thus the fact that respect for the moral law necessarily makes 
 the summum bonum an object of our endeavours, and the. sup- 
 position thence resulting of its objective reality, lead through 
 the postulates of practical reason to conceptions which specu- 
 lative reason might indeed present as problems, but could never 
 solve. Thus it leads i. To that one in the solution of which 
 the latter could do nothing but commit paralogisms (namely, 
 that of immortality), because it could not lay hold of the char- 
 acter of permanence, by which to complete the psychological 
 conception of an ultimate subject necessarily ascribed to the 
 soul in self -consciousness, so as to make it the real conception 
 of a substance, a character which practical reason furnishes by 
 the postulate of a duration required for accordance with the 
 moral law in the summum bonum, which is the whole end of 
 practical reason. 2. It leads to that of which speculative reason 
 contained nothing but antinomy, the solution of which it could 
 only found on a notion problematically conceivable indeed, but 
 whose objective reality it could not prove or determine, namely, 
 the cosmological idea of an. intelligible world and the conscious- 
 ness of our existence in it, by means of the postulate of freedom 
 (the reality of which it lays down by virtue of the moral law), 
 
CRITIQUE OF PRACTICAL REASON 481 
 
 and with it likewise the law of an intelligible world, to which 
 speculative reason could only point, but could not define its 
 conception. 3. What speculative reason was able to think, but 
 was obliged to leave undetermined as a mere transcendental 
 ideal, viz. the theological conception of the first Being, to this 
 it gives significance (in a practical view, that is, as a condition 
 of the possibility of the object of a will determined by that law), 
 namely, as the supreme principle of the summum bonum in an 
 intelligible world, by means of moral legislation in it invested 
 with sovereign power. 
 
 Is our knowledge, however, actually extended in this way by 
 pure practical reason, and is that immanent in practical reason 
 which for the speculative was only transcendent ? Certainly, but 
 only in a practical point of view. For we do not thereby take 
 knowledge of the- nature of our souls, nor of the intelligible 
 world, nor of the Supreme Being, with respect to what they are 
 in themselves, but we have merely combined the conceptions 
 of them in the practical concept of the summum bonum as the 
 object of our will, and this altogether a priori, but only by means 
 of the moral law, and merely in reference to it, in respect of the 
 object which it commands. But how freedom is possible, and 
 how we are to conceive this kind of causality theoretically and 
 positively, is not thereby discovered ; but only that there is such 
 a causality is postulated by the moral law and in its behoof. It 
 is the same with the remaining ideas, the possibility of which 
 no human intelligence will ever fathom, but the truth of which, 
 on the other hand, no sophistry will ever wrest from the con- 
 viction even of the commonest man. 
 
 VII. How is IT POSSIBLE TO CONCEIVE AN EXTENSION OF 
 PURE REASON IN A PRACTICAL POINT OF VIEW, WITHOUT 
 ITS KNOWLEDGE AS SPECULATIVE BEING ENLARGED AT 
 TH SAME TIME? 
 
 In .order not to be too abstract, we will answer this question 
 at once in its application to the present case. In order to extend 
 a pure cognition practically, there must be an a priori purpose 
 
482 KANT 
 
 given, that is, an end as object (of the will), which independently 
 on all theological principle is presented as practically necessary 
 by an imperative which determines the will directly (a categorical 
 imperative), -and in this case that is the summum bonum. This, 
 however, is not possible without ^re-supposing three theoretical 
 conceptions (for which, because they are mere conceptions of 
 pure reason, no corresponding intuition can be found, nor con- 
 sequently by the path of theory any objective reality) ; namely, 
 freedom, immortality, and God. Thus by the practical law 
 which commands the existence of the highest good possible in 
 a world, the possibility of those objects of pure speculative 
 reason is postulated, and the objective reality which the latter 
 could not assure them. By this the theoretical knowledge of 
 pure reason does indeed obtain an accession ; but it consists only 
 in this, that those concepts which otherwise it had to look upon 
 as problematical (merely thinkable) concepts, are now shown 
 assertorially to be such as actually have objects; because prac- 
 tical reason indispensably requires their existence for the pos- 
 sibility of its object, the summum bonum, which practically is 
 absolutely necessary, and this justifies theoretical reason in 
 assuming them. But this extension of theoretical reason is 
 no extension of speculative, that is, we cannot make any pos- 
 itive use of it in a theoretical point of view. . . . The above 
 three ideas of speculative reason are still in themselves not 
 cognitions ; they are however (transcendent) thoughts, in which 
 there is nothing impossible. Now, by help of an apodictic 
 practical law, being necessary conditions of that which it com- 
 mands to be made an object, they acquire objective reality: that 
 is, we learn from it that they have objects, without being able 
 to point out how the conception of them is related to an object, 
 and "this, too, is still not a cognition of these objects; for we 
 cannot thereby form any synthetical judgment about them, nor 
 determine their application theoretically; consequent!} 
 make no theoretical rational use of them at all, in which use 
 all speculative knowledge of reason consists. Nevertheless, the 
 theoretical knowledge, not indeed of these objects, but of rea- 
 son generally, is so far enlarged by this, that by the practical 
 
CRITIQUE OF PRACTICAL REASON 483 
 
 postulates objects were given to those ideas, a merely problem- 
 atical thought having by this means first acquired objective 
 reality. There is therefore no extension of the knowledge of 
 given supersensible objects, but an extension of theoretical 
 reason and of its knowledge in respect of the supersensible 
 generally; inasmuch as it is compelled to admit that there 
 are such objects, although it is not able to define them more 
 closely, so as itself to extend this knowledge of the objects (which 
 have now been given it on practical grounds, and only for prac- 
 tical use). For this accession, then, pure theoretical reason, for 
 which all those ideas are transcendent and without object, has 
 simply to thank its practical faculty. In this they become im- 
 manent and constitutive, being the source of the possibility of 
 realising the necessary object of pure practical reason (the sum- 
 mum bonum)', whereas apart from this they are transcendent, 
 and merely regulative principles of speculative reason, which 
 do not require it to assume a new object beyond experience, 
 but only to bring its use in experience nearer to completeness. 
 But when once reason is in possession of this accession, it will 
 go to work with these ideas as speculative reason (properly only 
 to assure the certainty of its practical use) in a negative manner: 
 that is, not extending but clearing up its knowledge so as on one 
 side to keep off anthropomorphism, as the source of superstition, 
 or seeming extension of these conceptions by supposed expe- 
 rience; and on the other side fanaticism, which promises the 
 same by means of supersensible intuition or feelings of the like 
 kind. . . . 
 
 When these ideas of God, of an intelligible world (the king- 
 dom of God), and of immortality are further determined by 
 predicates taken from our own nature, we must not regard this 
 determination as a sensualising of those pure rational ideas 
 (anthropomorphism), nor as a transcendent knowledge of super- 
 sensible objects; for these predicates are no others than under- 
 standing and will, considered too in the relation to each other 
 in which they must be conceived in the moral law, and there- 
 fore only so far as a pure practical use is made of them. As to 
 
484 KANT 
 
 all the rest that belongs to these conceptions psychologically, 
 that is, so far as we observe these faculties of ours empirically 
 in their exercise (e. g. that the understanding of man is discur- 
 sive, and its notions therefore not intuitions but thoughts, that 
 these follow one another in time, that his will has its satisfaction 
 always dependent on the existence of its object, &c., which 
 cannot be the case in the Supreme Being), from all this we 
 abstract in that case, and then there remains of the notions by 
 which we conceive a pure intelligence nothing more than just 
 what is required for the possibility of conceiving a moral law. 
 There is then a knowledge of God indeed, but only for practical 
 purposes, and if we attempt to extend it 'to a theoretical know- 
 ledge we find an understanding that has intuitions, not thoughts, 
 a will that is directed to objects on the existence of which its 
 satisfaction does not in the least depend (not to mention the 
 transcendental predicates, as, for example, a magnitude of exist- 
 ence, that is duration, which, however, is not in time, the only 
 possible means we have of conceiving existence as magnitude). 
 Now these are all attributes of which we can form no conception 
 that would help to the knowledge of the object, and we learn 
 from this that they can never be used for a theory of super- 
 sensible beings, so that on this side they are quite incapable 
 of being the foundation of a speculative knowledge, and their 
 use is limited simply to the practice of the moral law. 
 
 VIII. OF BELIEF FROM A REQUIREMENT OF PURE REASON 
 
 A want of requirement of pure reason in its speculative use 
 leads only to a hypothesis; that of pure practical reason to a 
 postulate; for in the former case I ascend from the result as high 
 as I please in the series of causes, not in order to give objective 
 reality to the result (e. g. the causal connexion of things and 
 changes in the world), but in order thoroughly to satisfy my 
 inquiring reason in respect of it. Thus I see before me order 
 and design in nature, and need not resort to speculation to assure 
 myself of their reality, but to explain them I have to pre-suppose 
 
CRITIQUE OF PRACTICAL REASON 485 
 
 a Deity as their cause; and then since the inference from an 
 effect to a definite cause is always uncertain and doubtful, 
 especially to a cause so precise and so perfectly defined as we 
 have to conceive in God, hence the highest degree of certainty 
 to which this pre-supposition can be brought is, that it is the 
 most rational opinion for us men. On the other hand, a re- 
 quirement of pure practical reason is based on a duty, that of 
 making something (the summum bonum) the object of my will 
 so as to promote it with all my powers; in which case I must 
 suppose its possibility, and consequently also the conditions 
 necessary thereto, namely, God, freedom, and immortality ; since 
 I cannot prove these by my speculative reason, although neither 
 can I refute them. This duty is founded on something that is 
 indeed quite independent on these suppositions, and is of itself 
 apodictically certain, namely, the moral law ; and so far it needs 
 no further support by theoretical views as to the inner constitu- 
 tion of things, the secret final aim of the order of the world, or a 
 presiding ruler thereof, in order to bind me in the most perfect 
 manner to act in unconditional conformity to the law. But the 
 subjective effect of this law, namely, the mental disposition con- 
 formed to it and made necessary by it, to promote the practically 
 possible summum bonum, this pre-supposes at least that the latter 
 is possible, for it would be practically impossible to strive after 
 the object of a conception which at bottom was empty and had 
 no object. . . . 
 
 Now since the promotion of this summum bonum, and there- 
 fore the supposition of its possibility, are objectively necessary 
 (though only as a result of practical reason), while at the same 
 time the manner in which we would conceive it rests with our 
 own choice, and in this choice a free interest of pure practical 
 reason decides for the assumption of a wise Author of the world ; 
 it is clear that the principle that herein determines our judgment, 
 though as a want it is subjective, yet at the same time being the 
 means of promoting what is objectively (practically) necessary, 
 is the foundation of a maxim of belief in a moral point of view, 
 that is, a faith oj pure practical reason. 
 
JOHANN GOTTLIEB FIGHTE 
 
 (1762-1814) 
 
 FIRST INTRODUCTION INTO THE SCIENCE 
 OF KNOWLEDGE 
 
 Translated from the German * by 
 BENJAMIN RAND 
 
 I. 
 
 ATTEND to thyself ; turn thy glance away from all that surrounds 
 thee and upon thine own innermost self. Such is the first demand 
 which philosophy makes of its disciples. We speak of nothing 
 that is without thee, but wholly of thyself. 
 
 In the most fleeting self-observation every one* must perceive 
 a marked difference between the various immediate determina- 
 tions of his consciousness, which we may also call representations. 
 Some of them appear entirely dependent upon our freedom, and 
 it is impossible for us to believe that there is anything without us 
 corresponding to them. Our imagination, our will, appears to 
 us as free. Others, however, we refer to a truth, as their model, 
 which is held to be established, independent of us; and in the 
 attempt to determine such representations, we find ourselves 
 conditioned by the necessity of their harmony with this truth. 
 In the knowledge of their contents we do not consider ourselves 
 free. In brief, we can say, some of our representations are ac- 
 companied by the feeling of freedom, others by the feeling of 
 necessity. 
 
 The question cannot reasonably arise : Why are the represen- 
 tations, which are directly dependent upon our freedom, deter- 
 mined in precisely this manner and not othe**wise2. For 'when 
 it is affirmed that they are dependent upon our freedom^ all 
 application of the conception of a ground is dismissedV they 
 
 * From Erste Einleitung in die Wissenschajtslehre in Philosophisches Jour- 
 nal, Bd. v, 1797, pp. 1-47; id., Sammtlithe Werke, Berlin, 1845, i, pp. 422- 
 436. 
 
THE SCIENCE OF KNOWLEDGE 487 
 
 are thus, because I have so determined them, and if I had de- 
 termined them otherwise, then they would be different. But it 
 is certainly a question worthy of reflection : What is the ground 
 of .the system of those representations which are accompanied 
 by the feelings of necessity and of that feeling of necessity itself ? 
 To answer this question is the task of philosophy; and, in my 
 opinion, nothing is philosophy but the science which solves this 
 problem. The system of those representations which are ac- 
 companied by the feeling of necessity is also called experience: 
 internal as well as external experience. Philosophy has there- 
 fore to express the same thing in other words to discover 
 the ground of all experience. 
 
 Only three distinct objections can be raised against what has 
 here been stated. Some one might deny that representations, ac- 
 companied by the feeling of necessity, and referred to a truth 
 determined without our aid, are ever present in our conscious- 
 ness. Such a person would either make the denial against better 
 knowledge or be differently constituted from other men. In the 
 latter case there would also be nothing for him that he denied, 
 and hence no denial. We could therefore dismiss his protest 
 without further ceremony. Or some one might say : the question 
 raised is entirely unanswerable, we are and must remain in in- 
 superable ignorance concerning it. To enter upon an argument 
 with such a person is wholly superfluous. He is best refuted by 
 an actual answer to the question ; then all he can do is to test our 
 attempt and to state where and why it appears to him insuffi- 
 cient. Finally, some one might dispute about the designation, 
 and assert : Philosophy is something else, or at least something 
 more, than what you have above stated. It might easily be proved 
 to such a one, that scholars have at all times regarded exactly 
 what has here been stated, to be philosophy, and that whatever 
 else he might set up for it has already another name ; that if this 
 word is to signify anything at all, it must mean precisely this 
 particular science. 
 
 Since, however, we are unwilling to enter upon any unfruit- 
 ful controversy about words, we have on our part already aban- 
 doned the name of philosophy, and have called the science which 
 
4 88 FICHTE 
 
 has, properly speaking, the solution of the problem here indi- 
 cated for its object, the Science oj Knowledge. 
 
 / 
 
 Only when speaking of something regarded as accidental, 
 that is, which we suppose might also have been otherwise, 
 though it was not determined by freedom, can we inquire con- 
 cerning a ground. And precisely because of this asking concern- 
 ing its ground does it become accidental to the inquirer. The 
 problem involved in seeking the ground of anything means 
 to find something else, from the special nature of which it can 
 be seen why the accidental, among the manifold determina- 
 tions which might have come to it, assumed .precisely the one it 
 did. The ground lies, by virtue of the mere thought of a ground, 
 outside of that which is grounded ; and both are, in so far as they 
 are the ground and the grounded, opposed to each other, re- 
 lated to each other, and thus the latter is explained from the 
 former. 
 
 Now philosophy seeks to discover the ground of all experi- 
 ence; hence its object lies necessarily beyond all experience. 
 This proposition applies to all philosophy, and has also actually 
 been so applied, down to the period of the Kantians and their 
 facts of consciousness, that is, of inner experience. 
 
 No objection can be raised against the proposition here set 
 forth ; for the premise to our conclusion is a mere analysis of the 
 above-stated conception of philosophy and from it the conclu- 
 sion is drawn. If some one possibly should remind us that the 
 conception of a ground must be differently explained, we cer- 
 tainly could not prevent him from forming another conception 
 of it if he chooses ; but we affirm with equal right, that in the 
 above description of philosophy we wish nothing else to be un- 
 derstood by that word but what has been stated. Hence, if this 
 meaning is not permitted, the possibility of philosophy, as we 
 have described it, must be altogether denied; and to such a 
 denial we have already made reply in our first section. 
 
 3- 
 
 The finite intelligence has nothing outside of experience. This 
 it is that yields the entire material of its thinking. The philoso- 
 
THE SCIENCE OF KNOWLEDGE ' 489 
 
 pher is subject necessarily to similar conditions, and hence it ap- 
 pears inconceivable how he can . raise himself above experience. 
 
 J* ut hg_can abstract;: that is to say, he can separate by the 
 freedom of thinking what is united in experience. In expedience, 
 the thing, or, that which is to be determined independently of 
 our freedom and in accordance with which our knowledge is to 
 shape itself, and the intelligence, or that which is to acquire a 
 knowledge of it, are inseparably united. The philosopher may 
 abstract from both, and if he does, he has abstracted from experi- 
 ence and lifted himself above it. If he abstracts from the first, 
 he retains an intelligence in itself, that is, abstracted from its re- 
 lation to experience ; if he abstracts from the latter, he retains the 
 thing in itselj, that is, abstracted from the fact that it occurs in 
 experience. He thus retains either the intelligence in itself, or the 
 thing- in-itself, as the ground of explanation of experience. The 
 former mode of procedure is called Idealism, the latter Dogmatism. 
 
 Only these two philosophical systems (and of that these re- 
 marks should convince everybody) are possible. According to 
 the first system, the representations which are accompanied ^y 
 the feeling of necessity are products of the intelligence, wmch 
 must be presupposed in their explanation ; according to the latter 
 system they are products of a thing in itself, which must be pre- 
 supposed to explain them. If any one desired to dispute this 
 position, he would have to prove either that there is still an- 
 other way to transcend ^xperience than by means of abstraction, 
 or that there exiafHn the consciousness of experience more than 
 the two components just mentioned. Now, in regard to the first, 
 it will appear below that what we have here called intelligence is 
 actually present under another name in consciousness, and there- 
 fore is not something entirely produced by abstraction ; but it will 
 at the same time be shown that the consciousness of it is condi- 
 tioned by an abstraction, which is wholly natural to mankind. 
 
 It will not be denied that it is possible to frame an entire sys- 
 tem from fragments of these dissimilar systems, and that this 
 illogical labor has actually very often been undertaken; but it 
 is denied that more than these two systems are possible in any 
 logical mode of procedure. 
 
4QO FICHTE 
 
 4. 
 
 Between the object (we shall call the explanatory ground of 
 experience affirmed by a philosophy the object of that philosophy, 
 since it appears to be only through and for such philosophy) 
 of idealism and that of dogmatism there is a remarkable distinc- 
 tion in reference to their relation to consciousness. Everything of 
 which I am conscious is called object of consciousness. There 
 are three ways in which the object can be related to consciousness. 
 Either the object appears to have been produced by the repre- 
 sentation, or as existing without its aid ; pud in the latter case, 
 either also as determined in regard to its strucjure^ or as present 
 merely with respect to its existence, but deterrrfnable in regard 
 to its structure by the free intelligence. 
 
 The first relation applies merely to an imaginary object, 
 whether with or without purpose ; the second applies to an object 
 of experience ; and the third applies only to an object, which we 
 shall forthwith describe. 
 
 I can determine myself by freedom to think this or that ; for 
 example, the thing-in-itself of the dogmatist* Now if I abstract 
 from the thought and look simply upon myself, then I myself 
 become the object of a particular representation; That I appear 
 to myself as determined in precisely this manner and not oth- 
 erwise, e. g., ; thinking, and among all possible thoughts as 
 thinking JUST ic thing-in-itself, is in my opinion to depend upon 
 my freedom self-determination : I have made myself such an 
 object of n v own free will. I have not, however, made myself, 
 but I am compelled to presuppose myself as determinable through 
 this self-determination^ I am therelfere myself my own object, 
 the determinate character of which depends under certain con- 
 ditions altogether upon intelligence* but the existence of which 
 must always be presupposed. // 
 
 Now this very I in itself is the object of Idealism. The object 
 of this system does not occur actually as something real in con- 
 sciousness, as a thing in itself, for then idealism would cease 
 to be what it is, and would be transformed into dogmatism, 
 but it does appear as I in itself. It occurs not as object of expe- 
 rience, for it is not determined, b"t is 
 
THE SCIENCE OF KNOWLEDGE 491 
 
 through me, and, without this determination &-wouM-ba4iothing. 
 atjtll, but it appears as something raiser! above all experience.^ 
 
 The object of dogmatism, on the contrary, belongs to the ob- 
 jects of the first class, which are produced wholly by free think-/ 
 ing. The thing-in-itself is a mere invention, and has no reality; 
 at all. It does not occur in experience, for the system of expe- 
 rience is nojthing^else than_thinking accompanied by the feel- 
 ing of necessity ; it cannot even be pretended to be anything 
 eke by the dogmatist, who, like every philosopher, has to give 
 an explanation of it. The dogmatist, indeed, desires to assure 
 reality to it, through the necessity of thinking it as the ground 
 of all experience; and he would succeed, if he could prove that 
 experience thereby can be, and can thereby only be explained. 
 But this is the very question in dispute, and he cannot presup- 
 pose what must first be proved. 
 
 The object of idealism thus has the advantage over that of 
 dogmatism, inasmuch as it is not to be deduced as the ground 
 of explanation of experience, which would be a contradiction 
 and would transform this system itself into a part of experience, 
 but is nevertheless to be referred to as a part of consciousness. 
 Whereas, the object of dogmatism can assume to be nothing but 
 a mere invention, which attains realization only through the 
 success of the system. This is cited merely to promote a clearer 
 insight into the distinction between the two systems ; but not to 
 draw therefrom an argument against the latter system. That 
 the object of every philosophy, as the explanatory ground of 
 experience, must be beyond experience, is demanded by the 
 very nature of philosophy, and is far from being derogatory to 
 a system. But we have as yet discovered no reason why that 
 object should be present also in a particular manner in con- 
 sciousness. 
 
 If anybody should remain unconvinced of the truth of what 
 has just been said, it still would not be impossible to convince 
 him of the truth of the whole system, since the foregoing has only 
 been incidental. Nevertheless, in conformity with our plan, we 
 will also here take into consideration possible objections. Some 
 one might deny the immediate self -consciousness affirmed to be 
 
492 FICHTE 
 
 in every free act of the mind. Such a one we have only again to 
 remind of the conditions of it above specified, This self-con- 
 sciousness neither obtrudes itself, nor comes of its own accord ; 
 one must really have a free act, and then abstract from the object 
 and attend entirely to one's self. No one can be compelled to 
 do this, and also if he professes to have done it, one cannot know 
 whether he has proceeded correctly. In a word, this conscious- 
 ness cannot be proved to any one ; but every one must produce 
 it with freedom in himself. Against the second affirmation, that 
 the thing-in-itself is a mere invention, an objection could only 
 be made, because one misunderstood it. Such a one we would 
 refer back to the preceding description of the origin of this con- 
 ception. 
 
 5- 
 
 Neither of these two systems can directly refute the other; 
 for their controversy is one about the first underivable principle. 
 Each refutes the other, if only you admit its own first principle 
 as established. Each denies everything to the opposite ; and they 
 have no point in common whereby they can attain a mutual 
 understanding and reconciliation. Though they appear to agree 
 on the words of a proposition, yet each one takes them in a dif- 
 ferent sense. 
 
 First of all, idealism cannot refute dogmatism. The former 
 system, indeed, has, as we have seen, the advantage over the 
 latter of being able to establish its explanatory ground of experi- 
 ence. the free acting intelligence as a fact of consciousness. 
 This fact the dogmatist must also concede to him, for otherwise 
 he would render himself incapable of any further dealing with 
 his opponent ; but he transformed, however, the ground of ex- 
 planation by a correct inference from his principle ^into an ap- 
 pearance and illusion, and thus disqualifies it for becoming an 
 explanatory ground of anything else, since it cannot maintain 
 its- own existence in its own philosophy. According to the dog- 
 matist everything that presents itself to our consciousness is a 
 product P* ^i^-in-itself, even our pretended determinations 
 by mean domTancl the belief that we are free. This be- 
 
 lief is produced in us by the effect upon ourselves of the Thing, 
 
THE SCIENCE OF KNOWLEDGE 493 
 
 and the determinations which we deduced from our freedom 
 are similarly caused by it. Only, we are not aware of it in these 
 instances, and hence ascribe it to no cause, that is, to our free- 
 dom. Every consistent dogmatist is necessarily a fatalistj he does 
 not deny the fact of consciousness, that we regard ourselves as 
 free, for this would be against all reason ; but he proves from 
 his principle the falsity of this view. He denies the independ- 
 ence of the Ego upon which the idealist builds, and makes it 
 merely a product of the thing, an accident of the world ; hence 
 the consistent dogmatist is necessarily also a materialist. He can 
 only be refuted by the postulate of the freedom and independ- 
 ence of the ego; but this is directly what he denies. 
 
 Even as little can the dogmatist refute the idealist. 
 
 The principle of the former, the thing-in-itself, is nothing, 
 and, as the defenders of it must admit, has no reality beyond 
 that which it receives from the fact that experience can only 
 be explained by it. But the idealist destroys this proof by ex- 
 plaining experience in another way, hence by denying precisely 
 what the dogmatist assumes. The thing-in-itself is a complete 
 chimer^. There is no further reason why it. should be assumed ; 
 and with its disappearance the entire structure of dogmatism 
 falls. 
 
 From what has just been stated there follows likewise the 
 absolute irreconcilability of the two systems; since the results 
 of the one destroy those of the other. Wherever their union has 
 been attempted the members would not fit into one another, 
 and somewhere an enormous gap has appeared. Any one who 
 would deny the truth of this position must prove the possibility 
 of such a union, that is, of a union which consists in a perpetual 
 transition from matter to spirit, or, what is entirely the same, 
 from necessity to freedom. 
 
 Since so far as we can perceive at present both systems ap- 
 pear to have the same speculative value, and since both cannot 
 stand together, nof^yeiTeither of the two convince the other, it 
 becomes a very interesting question what induces persons who 
 comprehend this and it is easily understood to prefer the 
 one to the other; and why it happens that scepticism, as the 
 
494 FICHTE 
 
 total renunciation of a reply to this problem, does not become 
 universal. 
 
 The dispute between the idealist and trjjio^matistjs_precisely 
 the question whether the independence of the Ego is to be-sacrL_ 
 ficed to that of the thing, or vice rsa._What, then, is it which 
 compels a reasonable man to decide in favor of the one or the 
 other ? 
 
 The philosopher discovers from the foregoing point of view, 
 which is one where he must necessarily place himself if he is 
 to be regarded as a philosopher, and which every man, in the 
 progress of thinking, must necessarily sooner or later occupy, 
 nothing further than that he must represent to himself both that 
 hejis free, and that there are determined things outside of him. 
 It is, however, impossible for him to stop at this thought ; the 
 thought of the mere representation is only a half- thought, . a 
 broken fragment of a thought. Something must be thought in 
 addition as corresponding to the representation independent of 
 it. In other words, the representation cannot exist by itself, 
 it is something only in connection with something else, and in 
 itself it is nothing. It is this necessity of thought which forces 
 one from that point of view to the question, What is the ground 
 of the representations ? or, which is entirely the same, What is 
 that which corresponds to them? 
 
 Now the representation of the independence of the Ego and 
 that of the thing can exist certainly together ; but not the inde- 
 pendence itself of both. Only one can be the first, the beginning, 
 the independent ; the second, by the very fact of being second, 
 is necessarily dependent upon the first, with which it is to be 
 connected. 
 
 Now which of the two is to be made the first ? Reason affords 
 no ground for a decision ; for the question does not relate to the 
 connecting of one link with another, where alone the grounds 
 of reason extend ; but to the beginning of the entire succession, 
 which as an absolute first act is wholly dependent upon the free- 
 dom of thinking. The decision is therefore entirely arbitrary; 
 and since the arbitrariness must have a cause, the decision is 
 dependent upon inclination and interest. The last ground of the 
 
THE SCIENCE OF KNOWLEDGE 495 
 
 distinction between the dogmatist and the idealist is consequently 
 the difference of their interest. 
 
 The highest interest, and hence the ground of all other inter- 
 est, is that for ourselves. Thus with the philosopher. Not to lose 
 his Self in his reasoning, but to retain and to assert it, this is the 
 interest which unconsciously guides all his thinking. Now, there 
 exist two grades of mankind; and in the progress of our race, 
 before the last grade has been universally attained, two chief 
 classes of men. The one class consist of those who have not 
 raised themselves to the full feeling of their freedom and of 
 absolute independence, but who are merely conscious of them- 
 selves in the representations of outward things. These have only 
 a desultory self-consciousness, bound up with outward objects, 
 and collected from their manifoldness. The image of their Self 
 is reflected to them only from the things, as from a mirror. .If 
 the latter be taken from them, then they lose the Self at the 
 same time. For their own sake, they cannot give up the belief 
 in the independence of things, since they exist only together 
 with these things. Whatever they are they have actually be- 
 come through the external world. Whosoever is only a product 
 of the things will never view himself in any other manner, and 
 he is entirely correct, so long as he speaks merely of himself 
 and of those like him. The principle of the dogmatist is : belief 
 in the things for their own sake ; hence, a mediated belief in 
 his own desultory Self, as merely the result of the things. 
 ^But whosoever becomes conscious of his self-existence and 
 independence from all outward things and this one can only 
 Become by making something of one's self, by means of one's 
 own self, independently of all external things needs no longer 
 the things in support of his Self, and cannot use them, because 
 they destroy his self-existence and transform it into an empty 
 appearance. The Ego, which he possesses, and which interests 
 him, destroys that belief in the things ; he believes in his inde- 
 pendence from inclination, and lays hold of it with affection. 
 His belief in himself is immediate. 
 
 From this interest can be explained the Carious passions 
 which commonly mingle with the defence of these philosophical 
 
496 FICHTE 
 
 systems. The dogmatist is actually in peril of losing his Self 
 when his system is attacked; and yet he is not armed against 
 this attack, because there is something in his inmost self which 
 takes the side of the assailant; hence he defends himself with 
 heat and bitterness. The idealist, on the contrary, cannot well 
 refrain from looking down with disesteem upon the dogmatist, 
 who can tell him nothing which he first has not long since known 
 and thrown aside as useless, inasmuch as one arrives at ideal- 
 ism, if not through dogmatism itself, yet at least by the dispo- 
 sition thereto. The dogmatist gets angry, misconstrues, and 
 would persecute, if he had the power; the idealist is cold, and 
 inclined to ridicule the dogmatist. 
 
 What kind of a philosophy one chooses depends consequently 
 upon what kind of a man one is ; for a philosophical system is 
 not a piece of dead household furniture, which one can use or 
 lay aside at pleasure, but is animated by the soul of the man 
 who has it. A person of a naturally indolent character, or who 
 has become weak-minded and perverted through intellectual 
 slavery, scholarly luxury, and vanity, will never elevate himself 
 to idealism. 
 
 You can reveal to the dogmatist the inadequacy and inconse- 
 quence of his system ; you can confuse and terrify him from all 
 sides ; but you cannot convince him, because he is unable quietly 
 and coolly to hear and to examine what he cannot tolerate. If 
 idealism should prove to be the only true philosophy, it will also 
 appear that a man must be born a philosopher, be educated to 
 be one, and educate himself to be one ; but that by no human art 
 can one be made a philosopher. Hence this science of know- 
 ledge expects few proselytes among men whose mental habits 
 have already been moulded; but its hopes are centred in the 
 rising generation, whose native vigor has not yet been impaired 
 by the intellectual laxness of the present age. 
 
THE SCIENCE OF KNOWLEDGE 
 
 Translated from the German * by 
 A. E. KROEGER 
 
 "THE FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLES OF 
 KNOWLEDGE " 
 
 i. FIRST AND ABSOLUTELY UNCONDITIONED 
 FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLE 
 
 WE have to search for the absolute, first, and unconditioned 
 fundamental principle of human knowledge. It cannot be 
 proven nor determined if it is to be absolute first principle. 
 
 This principle is to express the deed-act which does not oc- 
 cur among the empirical determinations of our consciousness, 
 nor can so occur, since it is rather the basis of all consciousness, 
 and first and alone makes consciousness possible. In represent- 
 ing this deed- act it is not so much to be feared that my readers 
 will not think what they ought to think, as that they will think 
 what they ought not to think. This renders necessary a reflec- 
 tion on what may perhaps for the present be taken for the deed- 
 act, and an abstraction from all that does not really belong to it. 
 
 Even by means of this abstracting reflection, that deed- act 
 which is not empirical fact of consciousness cannot become fact 
 of consciousness ; but by means of this abstracting reflection 
 we may recognize so much : that this deed- act must necessarily 
 be thought as the basis of all consciousness. 
 
 The laws * according to which this deed- act must necessarily 
 be thought as basis of human knowledge, or, which is the same, 
 the rules by which that abstracting reflection proceeds, have not 
 yet been proven as valid, but are for the present tacitly presup- 
 posed as well-known and agreed upon. As we proceed we shall 
 
 * From J. G. Fichte's Grundlage der gesammten Wissenschaftslehre, Jena and 
 Leipzig, 1794. Reprinted here from J. G. Fichte's The Science of Knowledge, 
 translated by A. E. Kroeger, London, Trubner & Co., 1889, pp. 63-84. 
 
 1 The laws of general logic. 
 
498 FICHTE 
 
 deduce them from that fundamental principle, the establishment 
 whereof is correct only if they are correct. This is a circle, but 
 an unavoidable circle. And since it is unavoidable and freely 
 admitted, it is also allowable to appeal to all the laws of general 
 logic in establishing this highest fundamental principle. 
 
 In undertaking this abstracting reflection we must start from 
 some proposition which every one will admit without dispute. 
 Doubtless there are many such. We choose the one which seems 
 to us to open the shortest road to our purpose. 
 
 In admitting this proposition, the deed-act, which we intend 
 to make the basis of our whole science of knowledge, must be 
 admitted; and the reflection must show that this deed-act is 
 admitted the moment that proposition is admitted. 
 
 Our course of proceeding in this reflection is as follows: 
 Any fact of empirical consciousness, admitted as such valid 
 proposition, is taken hold of, and from it we separate one of its 
 empirical determinations after the other, until only that re- 
 mains, which can no longer be separated and abstracted from. 
 
 As such admitted proposition we take this one : A is A. 
 
 Every one admits this proposition, and without the least 
 hesitation. It is recognized by all as completely certain and 
 evident. 
 
 If any one should ask a proof of its certainty, no one would 
 enter such a proof, but would say: This proposition is absolutely 
 (that is, without any further ground) certain ; and by saying this 
 would ascribe to himself the power of absolutely positing some- 
 thing. 
 
 In insisting on the in-itself certainty of the above proposition, 
 you posit not that A is. The proposition A is A is by no means 
 equivalent to A is. (Being when posited without predicate is 
 something quite different from being when posited with a predi- 
 cate.) Let us suppose A to signify a space inclosed within two 
 straight lines, then the proposition A is A would still be correct ; 
 although the proposition A is would be false, since such a space 
 is impossible. 
 
 But you posit by that proposition : // A is, then A is. The ques- 
 tion whether A is at all or not, does not, therefore, occur in it. 
 
THE SCIENCE OF KNOWLEDGE 499 
 
 The content of the proposition is not regarded at all : merely its 
 jorm. The question is not whereof you know, but what you know 
 of any given subject. The only thing posited, therefore, by that 
 proposition is the absolutely necessary connection between' the 
 two A's. This connection we will call X. 
 
 In regard to A itself nothing has as yet been posited. The 
 question, therefore, arises: Under what condition is A? 
 
 X at least is in the Ego, and posited through the Ego, for it is 
 the Ego which asserts the above proposition, and so asserts it 
 by the virtue of X as a law, which X or law must, therefore, 
 be given to the Ego; and, since it is asserted absolutely, and 
 without further ground, must be given to the Ego through itself. 
 
 Whether and how A is posited we do not know j but since__XL 
 is to designate a connection between an unknown positing^ of 
 A (of the first A in the proposition A is A) and a positing of the 
 same A, which latter positing is absolute on condition of the 
 first positing, it follows that A, at least in so far as that connection 
 is posited, is posited_m and through the Ego, like_X. Proof : X 
 is only possible in relation to an A ; now X is really posited in 
 the Ego, hence, also, A must be posited in the Ego, in so far as 
 X is related to it. 
 
 X is related to that A, in the above proposition, which oc- 
 cupies the logical position of subject, and also to that A which 
 is the predicate, forjboth are united by X v Both, therefore, are 
 posited in the Ego, in so far as they are posited; and the A_pf 
 the predicate is posited absolutely if the first one is posited. Hence 
 the above proposition may be- also expressed : If A is posited 
 in the Ego, then it is posited, or then it is 7 
 
 Hence, by means of X, the Ego posits : that A is absolutely for 
 the asserting Ego, and is simply because it is posited in the Ego ; 
 or that there is something in the Ego which always remains the 
 same, and is thus able to connecTor posit ; and hence the abso- 
 lutely posited X may also be expressed Ego = Ego, or I am I. 
 
 Thus we have already arrived at the proposition / am ; not 
 as an expression of a deed-act, it is true, but, at least, as expres- 
 sion of a fact. 
 
 For X is absolutely posited ; this is a fact of empirical conscious- 
 
500 FICHTE 
 
 ness, as shown by the admitted proposition. Now, X signifies 
 the same as I am I; hence, this proposition is also absolutely 
 posited. 
 
 But Ego is Ego, or I am I, has quite another significance, 
 than A is A. For the latter proposition had content only on a' 
 certain condition, namely, if A is posited. But the proposition 
 I am I is unconditionally and absolutely valid, since it is the 
 same as X ; it is valid not only in form, but also in content. In 
 it the Ego is posited not on condition, but absolutely, with the 
 predicate of self-equality; hence it is posited, and the proposi- 
 tion may also be expressed, / am. 
 
 This proposition, / am, is as yet only founded upon a fact, 
 and has no other validity than that of a fact. If "A = A " (or 
 X) is to be certain, then "I am" must also be certain. Now, it 
 is a fact of empirical consciousness that we are compelled to 
 regard X as absolutely certain; hence, also, "I am" is certain, 
 since it is the ground of the X. It follows from this, that the 
 ground of explanation of all facts of empirical consciousness is 
 this : before all positing, the Ego must be posited through itself*. 
 
 (I say of all facts; and to prove this I must show that X is 
 the highest fact of empirical consciousness, is the basis of all 
 others, and contained in all other facts; which, perhaps, would 
 be admitted by all men without proof, although the whole science 
 of knowledge busies itself to prove it.) 
 
 The proposition A = A is asserted.^ But all asserting is an 
 act of the human mind ; for it hasli all the conditions of such an 
 act in empirical consciousness, which ^jpust be presupposed as 
 well known and admitted in order to advance our reflection. 
 Now, this act is based on something which has no higher ground, 
 namely, X or I am. 
 
 Hence, that which is absolutely posited and in itself grounded 
 is the ground of a certain (we shall see hereafter of all) acting 
 of the human mind ; hence its pure character ; the pure character 
 of activity in itself, altogether abstracting from its particular 
 empirical conditions. 
 
 The positing of the Ego through itself is, therefore, the pure 
 activity of the Ego. The Ego posits itself ; and the Ego is by 
 
THE SCIENCE OF KNOWLEDGE 501 
 
 virtue of this its mere self-positing. Again vice versa : the Ego 
 is and posits its being, by virtue of its mere being. It is both 
 the acting and the product of the act; the active and the re- 
 sult of the activity ; deed and act, in one ; and hence the / am is 
 expressive of a deed-act ; and of the only possible deed- act, as 
 our science of knowledge must show. 
 
 Let us again consider the proposition / am I. The Ego is 
 absolutely posited. Let us assume that the first Ego of this 
 proposition (which has the position of formal subject) is the 
 absolutely posited Ego, and that the second Ego (that of the 
 predicate) is the being Ego; then the absolutely valid assertion 
 that both are one signifies: the Ego is, because it has posited 
 itself. 
 
 (This is, indeed, the case according to the logical form of 
 the proposition. In A = A the first A is that which is posited 
 in the Ego (either absolutely, like the Ego itself, or condition- 
 ally, like any non-Ego) ; and in this positing of A the Ego is 
 absolute subject; and hence the first A is also called the sub- 
 ject. But the second A designates that which the Ego, in now 
 making itselfjhe object of its own reflection, discovers thus as 
 posited in itself (since it has just before itself posited the A in 
 itself). The Ego in asserting that proposition A = A, predicates 
 in truth not something of A, but of itself, namely, that it has 
 found an A posited in itself; and hence the second A is called 
 predicate.) 
 
 The Ego in the former and the Ego in the latter significance 
 are to be absolutely equal. Hence, the above proposition may 
 be turned around, and then it reads : The Ego posits itself simply 
 because it is. It posits itself through its mere being, and is through 
 its mere being posited. 
 
 This, then, will explain clearly in what significance we here 
 use the word Ego (I), and will lead us to a definite explanation 
 of the Ego as absolute subject. The Ego as absolute subject is 
 that, the being (essence) whereof consists merely in positing itself 
 as being. As soon as it posits itself, it is; and as soon as it is, 
 it posits itself; and hence the Ego is for the Ego absolute and 
 necessary. Whatsoever is not for itself is not an Ego. 
 
502 FICHTE 
 
 ILLUSTRATION 
 
 The question has been asked, What wasl before I became self- 
 conscious ? The answer is, I was not at all, for I was not I. The 
 Ego is only, in so far as it is conscious of itself. The possibility of 
 that question is grounded upon a mixing up of the Ego as sub- 
 ject, and the Ego as object of the reflection of the absolute sub- 
 ject; and is in itself altogether improper. The Ego represents 
 itself and in so far takes itself up in the form of representation, 
 and now first becomes a somewhat, that is, an object. Conscious- 
 ness receives in this form of representation a substrate, which 
 is, even without the real consciousness, and which, moreover, is 
 thought bodily. Such a condition is thought, and the question 
 asked, What was the Ego at that time ? that is, what is the sub- 
 strate of consciousness ? But even in this thought you uncon- 
 sciously add in thinking the absolute subject as looking at that 
 substrate ; and hence you unconsciously add in thought the very 
 thing whereof you wanted to abstract, and thus you contradict 
 yourself. The truth is, you cannot think any thing at all without 
 adding in your thought your Ego as self-conscious ; you cannot 
 abstract from your self-consciousness; and all questions of the 
 above kind are not to be answered, since, maturely considered, 
 they cannot be asked. 
 
 If the Ego is only in so far as it posits itself, then it also is 
 only for the positing, and posits only for the being Ego. The 
 Ego is for the Ego ; but if it posits itself absolutely, as it is, then 
 it posits itself necessarily, and is necessary for the Ego. / am 
 only for me; but for me, / am necessarily. (By saying for me, I 
 already posit my being.) 
 
 To posit itself and to be is, applied to the Ego, the same. 
 Hence, the proposition I am because I have posited myself can 
 also be expressed : I am absolutely because I am. 
 
 Again, the Ego as positing itself and the Ego as being are one' 
 and the same. The Ego is as what it posits itself, and posits 
 itself as what it is. Hence, / am absolutely what I am. 
 
 The immediate expression of the thus developed deed- act may 
 
THE SCIENCE OF KNOWLEDGE 503 
 
 be given in the following formula : I am absolutely because I am, 
 and I am absolutely what' I am jor myself. 
 
 If this narration of the original deed-act is to be placed at the 
 head of a science of knowledge as its highest fundamental prin- 
 ciple, it may perhaps be best expressed thus : 
 
 The Ego Posits Originally Its Own Being. 
 
 (In other words, the Ego is necessarily identity of subject and 
 object ; it is itself subject-object ; and it is this without further 
 mediation.) 
 
 We started from the proposition A = A, not as if the proposi- 
 tion, I am, could be proven by it, but because we had to start 
 from some one certain proposition, given in empirical conscious- 
 ness. And our development, also, has shown that A = A does 
 not contain the ground of "I am," but, on the contrary, that 
 the latter proposition is the ground of the former. 
 
 By abstracting from the content of the proposition I am, and 
 looking merely to its form, namely, the form of drawing a con- 
 clusion from the being posited of something to its being, as we 
 must abstract for the sake of logic, we thus obtain as fundamen- 
 tal principle of logic the proposition A = A, which can only 
 be proven and determined through the science of knowledge. 
 Proven : for A is A because the Ego which has posited A is the 
 same as the Ego in which A is posited. Determined : for what- 
 ever is, is only in so far as it is posited in the Ego, and there is 
 nothing outside of the Ego. No possible A (no thing) can be any 
 thing else but an A posited in the Ego. 
 
 By abstracting, moreover, from all asserting as a determined 
 acting, and looking merely to the general manner of acting of 
 the human mind, which is given through that form, we obtain 
 the category of reality. Every thing to which the proposition A = 
 A is applicable has reality, in so far as that proposition is ap- 
 plicable to it. That which is posited through the mere positing 
 of any thing (in the Ego) is its reality, its essence. 
 
 REMARKS 
 
 Kant, in his deduction of the categories, has hinted at our 
 proposition as absolute fundamental principle of all knowledge ; 
 
504 FICHTE 
 
 but he has never definitely established it as fundamental princi- 
 ple. Before Kant, Descartes has suggested a similar one, Cogito, 
 ergo sum ; which, however, is not necessarily the minor and con- 
 clusion of a syllogism, of which the major would have to be, 
 Quodcunque cogitat, est ; but which he may also have viewed as 
 immediate fact of consciousness. In that case it would signify, 
 Cogitans sum, ergo sum (or, as we should say, Sum, ergo sum). 
 But in that case the word cogitans is completely superfluous; 
 you do not think necessarily when you are, but you are neces- 
 sarily when you think. Thinking is not the essence, but merely 
 a particular determination of the Ego ; and there are many other 
 determinations of the Ego. 
 
 Reinhold speaks of representation, and his fundamental 
 principle would read in the Cartesian form, Repraesentio, ergo 
 sum ; or, more correctly, Repraesentans sum, ergo sum. He goes 
 considerably further than Descartes, but not far enough; for 
 representation, also, is not the essence of the Ego, but merely 
 a particular determination of the Ego; and there are many 
 other determinations of the Ego, although they certainly must 
 pass through the medium of representation in order to enter em- 
 pirical consciousness. 
 
 Spinoza, on the other hand, goes beyond our proposition in 
 its established significance. He does not deny the unity of em- 
 pirical consciousness, but he utterly denies its pure consciousness. 
 According to him the whole series of representations of a single 
 empirical subject is related to the only one pure subject, as a 
 single representation is related to the whole series. In his view 
 the Ego (that is, that which he calls his Ego, or which I call 
 my Ego) is not absolutely because it is, but because something 
 else is. True, he considers the Ego to be Ego for the Ego ; but 
 he asks what it may be for something outside of the Ego. Such 
 an "outside of the Ego" would also be an Ego, of which the 
 posited Ego (for instance, my Ego) and all possible Egos would 
 be modifications. He separates the pure and the empirical 
 consciousness. The first he posits in God, who never becomes 
 self-conscious, since pure consciousness never attains conscious- 
 ness; the latter he posits in the particular modifications of the 
 
THE SCIENCE OF KNOWLEDGE 505 
 
 Godhead. His system, thus established, is perfectly logical and 
 not to be refuted, because he has entered a sphere where reason 
 cannot follow him; but his system is also groundless, for what 
 justified him in going beyond the pure consciousness given in 
 empirical consciousness ? 
 
 2. SECOND, AND IN REGARD TO ITS CONTENT, 
 CONDITIONED FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLE 
 
 For the same reason that the first fundamental principle could 
 not be proven or deduced, the second, also, cannot be proven. 
 Hence, we here also proceed from a fact of empirical con- 
 sciousness in the same manner. 
 
 The proposition not A is not A will doubtless be recognized 
 by every one as certain, and it is scarcely to be expected that 
 any one will ask for its proof. 
 
 If, however, such a proof were possible, it must in our system 
 be deduced from the proposition A = A. 
 
 But such a proof is impossible. For let us assume, at the 
 utmost, that the above proposition is the same as A is A 
 (and hence that -A is equal to some Y posited in the Ego), 
 and that for this reason our proposition signifies now: if the 
 opposite of A is posited, then it is posited ; still we should only 
 have the same connection posited (X) which we obtained in our 
 i, and our proposition, A is not A, instead of being derived 
 from A = A, would, after all, be only the very same proposition. 
 The chief question, Is the opposite of A posited, and under what 
 condition of form of mere acting is it posited ? is altogether ig- 
 nored. If our second proposition were a derived one, then this 
 condition of the form of acting would have to be derived from 
 the proposition A = A. But how can the proposition A = A, 
 which involves only the form of positing, also involve the form 
 of oppositing ? Hence, that form of acting, the oppositing, is pos- 
 ited absolutely, and with no attached condition. A is posited 
 as such simply because it is posited. 
 
 Hence, as sure as the proposition A not = A occurs among 
 the facts of empirical consciousness, there occurs among the 
 
5 o6 FICHTE 
 
 acts of the Ego an -oppositing ; and this oppositing, as far as 
 its jorm is concerned, is absolutely and unconditionally possible, 
 and is an acting which has no higher ground. 
 
 Through this absolute act the opposite, as mere opposite, is 
 posited. Every opposite, in so far as it is merely opposite, is simply 
 by virtue of an absolute act of the Ego, and has no other ground. 
 Opposition generally is simply posited through the Ego. 
 
 But if any A is to be posited, an A must be posited. Hence, 
 the act of oppositing is also, in another respect, conditioned. 
 Whether the act at all is possible depends upon another act; 
 hence, the act in its content, as acting generally, is conditioned ; 
 it is an acting in relation to another acting. The jorm of the act, 
 however, (the How? namely, that it is not an act of positing, 
 but of oppositing,) is unconditioned. 
 
 (Opposition is only possible on condition of the unity of con- 
 sciousness of the positing and the oppositing. For if the conscious- 
 ness of the first act were not connected with that of the second, 
 then the second positing would not be an ^-positing, but an 
 absolute positing. Oppositing it becomes only through its rela- 
 tion to a positing.) 
 
 As yet we have only spoken of the act, as mere act, of the 
 manner of acting. Let us now examine its product, = A. 
 
 In A we can again distinguish jorm and content. Through 
 the form is determined, that it is an opposite; the content de- 
 termines that it is an opposite of a determined something (of 
 A), that it is not this something. 
 
 The jorm of A is determined simply through the act; it 
 is an opposite because it is product of an oppositing; the con- 
 tent is determined through A : it is not what A is, and its whole 
 essence consists in this, that it is not what A is. I know of A 
 simply that it is the opposite of A. But what that is whereof I 
 know this, I can only know by knowing A. 
 
 Originally only the Ego is posited, and this alone is absolutely 
 posited. (i.) Hence, an absolute oppositing can only refer to 
 the Ego. The opposite of the Ego we call Non-Ego. 
 
 As sure as the proposition A is not A is unconditionally 
 admitted as a fact of empirical consciousness, a non-Ego is ab- 
 
THE SCIENCE OF KNOWLEDGE 507 
 
 solutely opposited to the Ego. All we have said above in refer- 
 ence to oppositing generally is deduced from this original opposit- 
 ing, and hence is valid for it; it is, therefore, unconditioned in 
 form, but conditioned in content. And thus we have also found 
 the second principle of all human knowledge. 
 
 Whatever appertains to the Ego, of that the opposite must 
 appertain to the non-Ego. 
 
 (The general opinion is, that the conception of the non-Ego is 
 a discursive conception, obtained by abstracting from all ob- 
 jects of representation. But the foolishness of this explanation 
 can be easily demonstrated. If I am to represent an object, I 
 must posit it in opposition to the representing subject. Now, 
 it is true that in the object of representation there can and must 
 be an X, whereby it discovers itself to be not the representing, 
 but a represented ; but no object of representation can possibly 
 teach one, that every thing wherein this X occurs is represented 
 object, and not representing subject. Now, it is true that in the 
 object of representation there can and must be an X, whereby 
 it discovers itself to be not the representing, but a represented ; 
 but no object of representation can possibly teach me, that 
 every thing wherein this X occurs is represented object, and 
 not representing subject ; on the contrary, only by presupposing 
 the law do I attain any object.) 
 
 By undertaking the same abstraction with this proposition, 
 which we undertook with the first, we obtain the logical propo- 
 sition A is not A, which I should call the proposition of 
 oppositing. In the present place, this proposition cannot yet 
 be properly determined, or expressed in a formula, the reason 
 whereof will appear in the following section. 
 
 By abstracting from the determined act of asserting this 
 proposition, and looking merely to the form of drawing a con- 
 clusion from the being opposited of something to its being, we 
 obtain the category of negation. This also cannot be clearly 
 developed till in the following section. 
 
508 FICHTE 
 
 3. THIRD, IN ITS FORM CONDITIONED FUN- 
 DAMENTAL PRINCIPLE. 
 
 Every step we take in our science brings us nearer to the 
 point where every thing can be proven. In the first principle, 
 nothing could be nor was to be proven ; in the second, only the 
 act of oppositing was not provable ; but this act once admitted, 
 it was strictly shown that the opposite must be a Non-Ego. 
 The third principle is almost throughout capable of proof, since 
 it is not, like the second, conditioned in content, but only in 
 form by the two foregoing propositions. 
 
 It is conditioned in form signifies, the problem oj the act it 
 establishes is given by the two foregoing propositions, but not 
 the solution of the problem. The solution is the result of an 
 unconditioned and absolute act of reason. 
 
 We therefore commence with a deduction, and proceed as 
 far as we can go. When we can go no further, we shall have to 
 appeal to this absolute act. 
 
 1. In so far as the Non-Ego is posited, the Ego is not posited; 
 for the Non-Ego completely cancels the Ego. 
 
 Now, the Non-Ego is posited in the Ego, for it is opposited ; 
 and all oppositing presupposes the identity of the Ego. 
 
 Hence, the Ego is not posited in the Ego in so far as the Non- 
 Ego is posited in it. 
 
 2. But the Non-Ego can only be posited in so far as an Ego 
 is posited in the Ego, (in the identical consciousness,) as the op- 
 posite of which it is posited. 
 
 Hence, in so far as the Non-Ego is posited in the Ego, the Ego 
 also must be posited in it. 
 
 3. The conclusions of our ist and 2d are opposed to each 
 other; yet both are developed from the second fundamental 
 principle; hence, that second principle is opposed to itself and 
 cancels itself. 
 
 4. But it cancels itself only in so far as the posited is canceled 
 by the opposited, hence in so far as itself is valid. 
 
 Hence, it does not cancel itself. The second fundamental 
 principle cancels itself and does not cancel itself. 
 
THE SCIENCE OF KNOWLEDGE 509 
 
 5. If this is the case with the second principle, it must also 
 be with the first principle. That first principle cancels itself and 
 does not cancel itself. For, 
 
 If Ego is = Ego, then all is posited, which is posited in the 
 Ego. 
 
 Now, the second principle is to be posited and not to be posited 
 in the Ego. 
 
 Hence, Ego is not = Ego, but Ego is = to the Non-Ego, and 
 Non-Ego = Ego. 
 
 All these results have been deduced from the established 
 principles according to the laws of reflection presupposed as 
 valid ; they must be correct, therefore. But if they are correct, 
 the identity of consciousness, the only absolute foundation of 
 our knowledge, is canceled. This determines our problem. We 
 must find an X, by means of which all these results may be cor- 
 rect, without destroying the identity of consciousness. 
 
 1. The opposites, to be united, are in the Ego as conscious- 
 ness. Hence X must also be in consciousness. 
 
 2. Both the Ego and Non-Ego are products of original acts 
 of the Ego, and consciousness itself is such a product of the first 
 original act of the Ego, of the positing of the Ego through itself. 
 
 3. But our above results show that the act of which the Non- 
 Ego is the product, that is, the oppositing, is not at all possible 
 without X. Hence, X itself must be a product of an original act 
 of the Ego. There must be, accordingly, an act of the human 
 mind = Y, the product of which is X. 
 
 4. The form of this act Y is determined by the above prob^ 
 lem. It is to be a uniting of the opposites (the Ego and the Non- 
 Ego) without their mutually canceling each other. The oppo- 
 sites are to be taken up into the identity of consciousness. 
 
 5. But the problem does not determine the How, or the 
 manner of this uniting, nor even suggest it at all. We must, 
 therefore, make an experiment, and ask : How can A and A, 
 being and not being, reality and negation, be thought together, 
 without their mutually canceling each other? 
 
 6. It is not to be expected that any one will reply otherwise 
 but : They must mutually limit each other. If this answer is 
 
5 io FICHTE 
 
 t 
 
 correct, the act Y is a limiting of both opposites through each 
 other, and X would signify the limits. 
 
 (Let me not be understood as asserting that the conception 
 of limits is an analytical conception, involved in, and to be 
 developed out of, the union of reality and negation. It is true 
 our two fundamental principles have given us the opposite 
 conceptions, and our first principle has given us the require- 
 ment to unite them. But the manner of uniting them has not 
 been given, and is determined by a particular law of our mind, 
 which law our experiment was only to make us conscious of.) 
 
 7. The conception of limits, however, involves more than 
 the required X; for it involves also the conceptions of reality 
 and negation, which are to be united. Hence, to get X pure, we 
 must undertake another abstraction. 
 
 8. To limit something signifies to cancel the reality thereof 
 not altogether, but only in part. Hence the conception of limits 
 involves, besides the conception of reality and negation, that 
 of divisibility, (of quantitability generally, not of a determined 
 quantity). This conception is the required X, and hence, through 
 the act Y, the Ego as well as the Non-Ego is posited divisible. 
 
 9. The Ego as well as the Non-Ego is posited divisible ; for 
 the act Y cannot succeed the act of oppositing, for in itself the 
 act of oppositing has shown itself impossible; nor can it pre- 
 cede that act, for the act Y occurs merely to make the act of 
 oppositing possible ; and divisibility is nothing but a divisible. 
 Hence, the act Y and the act of oppositing occur in and with each 
 other; both are one and the same, and are only distinguished 
 in reflection. By oppositing, therefore, a Non-Ego to the Ego, 
 both the Ego and the Non-Ego are posited di visile. 
 
 Let us now see whether the here established act has really 
 solved the opposites. 
 
 The first result is now determined as follows : The Ego is not 
 posited in the Ego in so far, that is, with those parts of reality 
 wherewith the Non-Ego is posited. That part of reality, which 
 is ascribed to the Non-Ego, is canceled in the Ego. 
 
 This proposition* at present does not contradict the second 
 result : in so far as the Non-Ego is posited, the Ego also must 
 
THE SCIENCE OF KNOWLEDGE 511 
 
 be posited ; for both are posited as divisible in regard to their 
 reality. 
 
 And only now can you say of either, it is something. For the 
 absolute Ego of the first fundamental principle is not something, 
 (has no predicate and can have none;) it is simply what it is. 
 But now all reality is in consciousness, and of this reality that 
 part is to be ascribed to the Non-Ego, which is not to be ascribed 
 to the Ego, and vice versa. Both are something. The Non-Ego 
 is what the Ego is not, and vice versa. Opposed to the absolute 
 Ego, the Non-Ego is absolutely nothing, (but it can be opposed 
 to the absolute Ego only in so far as it is an object of represen- 
 tation, as we shall see hereafter;) opposed to the divisible Ego, 
 the Non-Ego is a negative quantity. 
 
 The Ego is to be = Ego, and yet it is also to be opposed to 
 itself. But it is self-equal in regard to consciousness ; and in this 
 consciousness the absolute Ego is posited as indivisible, and the 
 Ego, to which the Non-Ego is opposed, as divisible. Hence, 
 in the unity of consciousness, all the opposites are united; for 
 in it even the Ego, in so far as a Non-Ego is opposed to it, is 
 opposed to the absolute Ego; and this is, as it were, the test 
 that the established conception of divisibility was the correct 
 one. 
 
 According to our presupposition, which can be proven only 
 through the completion of the science of knowledge, only one 
 absolute unconditioned, one in its content conditioned, and one 
 in its form conditioned principle is possible. Hence, no further 
 principle can be possible. All that is unconditionally and abso- 
 lutely certain has been exhausted, and I might express the total 
 in this formula: 
 
 The Ego opposits in the Ego a divisible Non-Ego to a divisible 
 Ego. 
 
 Beyond this cognition no philosophy can go ; but every thorough 
 philosophy ought to go to it, and by doing so will become science 
 of knowledge. Whatsoever is hereafter to occur in the system 
 of the human mind must be deducible from what we have here 
 established. 
 
512 FICHTE 
 
 REMARKS 
 
 We have united the opposites, Ego and Non-Ego, through 
 the conception of divisibility. By abstracting from the content 
 (the Ego and Non-Ego) and looking at the mere form of uniting 
 opposites through the conception of divisibility, we obtain the 
 logical proposition of the ground; that is, A is in part A, 
 and vice versa. Every opposite is related to its opposite in one 
 characteristic = X; and all equals are opposed to each other 
 in one characteristic X. Such an X is called, in the first instance, 
 ground of relation ; in the second instance, ground of distinction. 
 This logical proposition our third fundamental principle both 
 proves and determines. 
 
 Proves : for every opposite = A is opposed to an A, and 
 this A is posited. Through the positing of a A you both cancel 
 and do not cancel A. Hence, you only cancel A in part; and 
 instead of the X in A, which is not canceled, you have posited 
 in A not X, but X itself; and hence A is = A in X. 
 
 Again, every opposite (= A = B) is self -equal by virtue of 
 being posited in the Ego : A = B, B = B. 
 
 Now, you posit B = A ; hence, B is not posited through A, 
 for then it would be = A and not = B. (You would have only 
 posited one, and not two.) 
 
 But if B is not posited through the positing of A, then it is 
 in so far = A; and through the positing of both as equal, 
 neither A nor B, but an X, is posited, which X is = X and = A 
 and = B. 
 
 Thus it appears how the proposition A B can be valid, 
 which in itself contradicts the proposition A = A. X = X, A 
 =A, B = X; hence, A = B in so far as both is = X; but A = 
 B in so far as both is = X. 
 
 Opposites are related and equals are opposed to each other in 
 only one part. For, if they were opposed in many parts, that is, 
 if the opposites themselves contained opposite characteristics, 
 one or both would belong to that wherein they are equal, and 
 hence they would not be opposites, and vice versa. Every 
 grounded judgment has, therefore, only one ground of relation 
 
THE SCIENCE OF KNOWLEDGE 513 
 
 and one ground of distinction. If it has more, it is not one 
 judgment, but many judgments. 
 
 Determines : for only on condition that many things are 
 posited at all as equals or as opposites, are they thus opposed 
 or related in one characteristic. But it is by no means asserted 
 that absolutely every thing which may occur in our conscious- 
 ness must be equal to another, and opposed to a third. 
 
 A judgment, therefore, concerning that to which nothing is 
 related or opposed, does not come at all under, the rule of this 
 proposition of the ground, for it is not under the condition of 
 its validity; it is not grounded, since, on the contrary, itself 
 grounds all possible judgments; it has no ground, but furnishes 
 itself the ground of all grounded. The object of all such judg- 
 ments is the absolute Ego, and all judgments, whereof it is the 
 subject, are valid absolutely, and without further ground. 
 
 The act whereby, in comparing a twofold, you look up the 
 mark wherein they are opposites, is called the antithetical pro- 
 ceeding, generally spoken of as analytical, which expression, 
 however, is less proper; partly because it permits the opinion 
 that you can develop something out of a conception which you 
 have not previously put into it by a synthesis, and partly because 
 the expression antithetical signifies more clearly that it is the 
 opposite of synthetical. For the synthetical proceeding consists 
 in this, that in opposites that characteristic is looked up wherein 
 they are equal. In the mere logical form, judgments of the first 
 class are called antithetical or negative, and judgments of the 
 latter class synthetical or affirmative judgments. 
 
 Again : since we discovered, in the development of our third 
 principle, that the act of uniting opposites in a third is not pos- 
 sible without the act of oppositing, and vice versa, it also follows 
 that in logic antithesis and synthesis are inseparable. No anti- 
 thesis no positing of equals as opposites without synthesis 
 - without the previous positing of the equals as equals. No 
 synthesis no positing of opposites as equals without anti- 
 thesis without the previous positing of the opposites as op- 
 posites. (As far as the content is concerned, mere analytical 
 judgments have, therefore, no existence; and not only do they 
 
FICHTE 
 
 not carry us far, as Kant remarks, but they do not advance us 
 a single step.) 
 
 Kant's celebrated question, which he placed at the head of 
 his Critic of Pure Reason, How are synthetical judgments a 
 priori possible ? has now been answered in the most universal 
 and satisfactory manner. In our third 'principle we have estab- 
 lished a synthesis between the opposites, Ego and Non-Ego, by 
 means of the posited divisibility of both, concerning the possi- 
 bility of which no further question can be asked nor any further 
 ground assigned; it is absolutely possible, and we are justified 
 in establishing it without further ground. All other syntheses, 
 which are to be valid, must be involved in this one ; must have 
 been established in and with this one; and as soon as this is 
 proven, the most convincing proof has been shown up that they 
 are equally valid. 
 
 Must be involved in this one ; and this shows us at the same 
 time in the most determined manner, how we must proceed in 
 the development of our science. It is syntheses we are to obtain, 
 and hence our whole course of proceeding hereafter will be 
 synthetical ; every proposition will contain a synthesis. (At least 
 in the theoretical part of our science, for in the practical part 
 the very reverse is the case, as will appear hereafter.) But no 
 synthesis is possible without a previous analysis; from this 
 analysis, however, in so far as it is an act, we abstract, and only 
 look up its product the opposites. Hence, at every propo- 
 sition hereafter we shall begin by looking up the opposites in- 
 volved in it, and which are to be united. Again, all our syn- 
 theses are to be involved in the highest synthesis, just shown 
 up, and to be developed out of it. Hence it will be our task to 
 look up in the Ego and Non-Ego, which that synthesis unites, 
 some opposite characteristics, which have not been united ; and 
 to unite these opposites through a new ground of relation, 
 which, again, must be involved in the highest ground of rela- 
 tion ; next, it will be our task to look up new opposites in the 
 opposites united by this second synthesis, and to unite them in 
 a third synthesis; and to continue this course until we arrive 
 at opposites which can no longer be perfectly united, whereby 
 
THE SCIENCE OF KNOWLEDGE 515 
 
 we shall then be forced to enter the practical part of our 
 science. 
 
 As antithesis is not possible without synthesis, and vice versa, 
 so neither is possible without a thesis ; that is, without an abso- 
 lute positing, whereby a certain A (the Ego) is posited, not as 
 the equal of any other, nor as the opposite of any other, but is 
 absolutely posited. This, when applied to our system, gives it 
 completeness and surety. It must be a system and one system; 
 the opposites must be united so long as opposites still exist, and 
 until the absolute unity is produced; which absolute unity, as 
 will be shown hereafter, can, however, only be produced by a 
 completed approach to the infinite, that is to say, never in time. 
 
 The necessity to opposit and unite in the above determined 
 manner rests immediately on our third fundamental princi- 
 ple ; the necessity to unite at all, rests on the first highest and 
 absolutely unconditioned principle. The form of the system is 
 grounded in the highest synthesis; but that a system is to be 
 at all is grounded in the absolute thesis. 
 
THE VOCATION OF MAN 
 
 Translated from the German* by 
 WILLIAM SMITH 
 
 BOOK III. FAITH 
 ra 
 
 THIS, then, is my whole sublime vocation, my true nature. I am 
 a member of two orders : the one purely spiritual, in which 
 I rule by my will alone; the other sensuous, in which I ope- 
 rate by my deed. The whole end of reason is pure activity, 
 absolutely by itself alone^having no need of any instrument out 
 of itself, independence of everything which is not reason, 
 absolute freedom. The will is the living principle of reason, 
 is itself reason, when purely and simply apprehended; that 
 reason is active by itself alone, means, that pure will, merely as 
 such, lives and rules. It is only the Infinite Reason that lives 
 immediately and wholly in this purely spiritual order. The 
 finite reason, which does not of itself constitute the world of 
 reason, but is only one of its -many members, lives necessarily 
 at the same time in a sensuous order ; that is to say, in one which 
 presents to it another object, beyond a purely spiritual activity : 
 a material object, to be promoted by instruments and powers 
 which indeed stand under the immediate dominion of the will, 
 but whose activity is also conditioned by their own natural laws: 
 Yet as surely as reason is reason, must the will operate abso- 
 lutely by itself, and independently of the natural laws by which 
 the material action is determined ; and hence the sensuous 
 life of every finite being points towards a higher, into which the 
 will, by itself alone, may open the way, and of which it may 
 acquire possession, a possession which indeed we must again 
 sensuously conceive of as a state, and not as a mere will. 
 
 * From Die Bestimmung des Menschen, Berlin, 1800. Reprinted from J. G. 
 Fichte's Vocation of Man, translated by Wm. Smith, London, 1838. 
 
THE VOCATION OF MAN 517 
 
 These two orders, the purely spiritual and the sensuous, 
 the latter consisting possibly of an innumerable series of par- 
 ticular lives, have existed since the first moment of the de- 
 velopment of an active reason within me, and still proceed 
 parallel to each other. The latter order is only a phenomenon 
 for myself, and for those with whom I am associated in this life ; , 
 the former alone gives it significance, purpose, and value. I am 
 immortal, imperishable," eternal, as soon as I form the resolu- 
 tion to obey the laws of reason ; I do not need to become so. The 
 super- sensual w6rld is no future world; it is now present; it can 
 at no point of finite existence be more present than at another; 
 not more present after an existence of myriads of lives than at 
 this moment. My sensuous existence may, in future, assume 
 other forms, but these are just as little the true life, as its present 
 form. By that resolution I lay hold on eternity, and cast off this 
 earthly life and all other forms of sensuous life which may yet 
 lie before me in futurity, and place myself far above them. I 
 become the sole source of my own being and its phenomena, 
 and, henceforth, unconditioned by anything without me, I have 
 life in myself. My will, which is directed by no foreign agency 
 in the order of the super-sensual world, but by myself alone, is 
 this source of true life, and of eternity. 
 
 It is my will alone which is this source of true life, and of 
 eternity ; only by recognising this will as the peculiar seat of 
 moral goodness, and by actually raising it thereto, do I obtain 
 the assurance and the possession of that super- sensual world. 
 
 Without regard to any conceivable or visible object, without 
 inquiry as to whether my will may be followed by any result 
 other than the mere volition, "l must will in accordance with 
 the moral law. My will stands alone, apart from all that is not 
 itself, and is its own world merely by itself and for itself; not 
 only as being itself an absolutely first, primary and original 
 power, before which there is no preceding influence by which it 
 may be governed, but also as being followed by no conceivable 
 or comprehensible second step in the series, corning after it, by 
 which its activity may be brought under the dominion of a for- 
 eign law. Did there proceed from it any second, and from this 
 
5 i8 FICHTE 
 
 again a third result, and so forth, in any conceivable sensuous 
 world opposed to the spiritual world, then would its strength 
 be broken by the resistance it would encounter from the inde- 
 pendent elements of such a world which it would set in motion ; 
 the mode of its activity would no longer exactly correspond to 
 the purpose expressed in the volition; and the will would no 
 longer remain free, but be partly limited by the peculiar laws 
 of its heterogeneous sphere of action. And thus must I actually 
 regard the will in the present sensuous world, the only one known 
 to me. I am indeed compelled to believe, and consequently to 
 act as if I thought, that by my mere volition, my tongue, my 
 hand, or my foot, might be set in motion ; but how a mere aspira- 
 tion, an impress of intelligence upon itself, such as will is, can 
 be the principle of motion to a heavy material mass, this I 
 not only find it impossible to conceive, but the mere assertion is, 
 before the tribunal of the understanding, a palpable absurdity ; 
 - here the movement of matter even in myself can be explained 
 only by the internal forces of matter itself. 
 
 Such a view of my will as I have taken, can, however, be 
 attained only through an intimate conviction that it is not merely 
 the highest active principle for this world, which it certainly 
 might be, without having freedom in itself, by the mere influence 
 of the system of the . universe, perchance, as we must conceive 
 of a formative power in Nature, but that it absolutely dis- 
 regards all earthly objects, and generally all objects lying out of 
 itself, and recognises itself, for its own sake, as its own ultimate 
 end. But by such a view of my will I am at once directed to a 
 super-sensual order of things, in which the will, by itself alone 
 and without any instrument lying out of itself, becomes an effi- 
 cient cause in a sphere which, like itself, is purely spiritual, and 
 is thoroughly accessible to it. That moral volition is demanded 
 of us absolutely for its own sake alone, a truth which I dis- 
 cover only as a fact in my inward consciousness, and to the know- 
 ledge of which I cannot attain in any other way : this was the 
 first step of my thought. That this demand is reasonable, and 
 the source and standard of all else that is reasonable; that it is 
 not modelled upon any other thing whatever, but that all other 
 
THE VOCATION OF MAN 519 
 
 things must, on the contrary, model themselves upon it, and 
 be dependent Upon it, a conviction which also I cannot arrive 
 at from without, but can attain only by inward experience, by 
 means of the unhesitating and immovable assent which I freely 
 accord to this demand : this was the second step of my thought. 
 And from these two terms I have attained to faith in a super- 
 sensual Eternal World. If I abandon the former, the latter falls 
 to the ground. If it were true, as many say it is, assuming it 
 without farther proof as self-evident and extolling it as the high- 
 est summit of human wisdom, that all human virtue must 
 have before it a certain definite external object, and that it must 
 first be assured of the possibility of attaining this object, before 
 it can act and before it can become virtue; that, consequently, 
 p reason by no means contains within itself the principle and the 
 standard of its own activity, but must receive this standard from 
 without, through contemplation of an external world ; if this 
 were true, then might the ultimate end of our existence be 
 accomplished here below ; human nature might be completely 
 developed and exhausted by our earthly vocation, and we should 
 have no rational ground for raising our thoughts above the pre- 
 sent life. 
 
 But every thinker who has anywhere acquired those first 
 principles even historically, moved perhaps by a mere love of 
 the new and unusual, and who is able to prosecute a correct 
 course of reasoning from them, might speak and teach as I have 
 now spoken to myself. He would then present us with the 
 thoughts of some other being, not with his own; everything 
 would float before him empty and without significance, because 
 he would be without the sense whereby he might apprehend its 
 reality. He is a blind man, who, upon certain true principles 
 concerning colours which he has learned historically, has built 
 a perfectly correct theory of colour, notwithstanding that there is 
 in reality no colour existing for him; he can tell how, under 
 certain conditions, it must be; but to him it is not so, because he 
 does not stand under these conditions. The faculty by which 
 we lay hold on Eternal Life is to be attained only by actually 
 
520 FICHTE 
 
 renouncing the sensuous and its objects, and sacrificing them 
 to that law which takes cognizance of our will only and not 
 of our actions ; renouncing them with the firmest conviction 
 that it is reasonable for us to do so, nay, that it is the only 
 thing reasonable for us. By this renunciation of the Earthly 
 does faith in the Eternal first arise in our soul, and is there 
 enshrined apart, as the only support to which we can cling after 
 we have given up all else, as the only animating principle that 
 can elevate our minds and inspire our lives. We must indeed, ac- 
 cording to the figure of a sacred doctrine, first "die unto the world 
 and be born again, before we can enter the kingdom of God." 
 
 I see Oh I now see clearly before me the cause of my former 
 indifference and blindness concerning spiritual things ! Absorbed 
 by mere earthly objects, lost in them with all our thoughts and 
 efforts, moved and urged onward only by the notion of a result 
 lying beyond ourselves, by the desire of such a result and of 
 our enjoyment therein, insensible and dead to the pure im- 
 pulse of reason, which gives a law to itself, and offers to our as- 
 pirations a purely spiritual end, the immortal Psyche remains, 
 with fettered pinions, fastened to the earth. Our philosophy 
 becomes the history of our own heart and life; and according 
 to what we ourselves are, do we conceive of man and his voca- 
 tion. Never impelled by any other motive than the desire after 
 what can be actually realised in this world, there is for us no 
 true freedom, no freedom which holds the ground of its de- 
 termination absolutely and entirely within itself. Our freedom 
 is, at best, that of the self- forming plant ; not essentially higher in 
 its nature, but only more artistical in its results ; not producing 
 a mere material form with roots, leaves, and blossoms, but a 
 mind with impulses, thoughts, and actions. We cannot have the 
 slightest conception of true freedom, because we do not our-, 
 selves possess it; when it is spoken of, we either bring down 
 what is said to the level of our own notions, or at once declare 
 all such talk to be nonsense. Without the idea of freedom, we 
 are likewise without the faculty for another world. Everything 
 of this kind floats past before us like words that are not addressed 
 
THE VOCATION OF MAN 521 
 
 to us ; like a pale shadow, without colour or meaning, which we 
 know not how to lay hold of or retain. We leave it as we find 
 it, without the least participation or sympathy. Or should we 
 ever be urged by a more active zeal to consider it seriously, we 
 then convince ourselves to our own satisfaction that all such 
 ideas are untenable and worthless reveries, which the man of 
 sound understanding unhesitatingly rejects; and according to 
 the premises from which we proceed, made up as they are of 
 our inward experiences, we are perfectly in the right, and secure 
 from either refutation or conversion so long as we remain what 
 we are. The excellent doctrines which are taught amongst us 
 with a special authority, concerning freedom, duty, and ever- 
 lasting life, become to us romantic fables, like those of Tartarus 
 and the Elysian fields ; although we do not publish to the world 
 this our secret opinion, because we find it expedient, by means 
 of these figures, to maintain an outward decorum among the 
 populace; or, should we be less reflective, and ourselves bound 
 in the chains of authority, then we sink to the level of the com- 
 mon mind, and believing what, thus understood, would be mere 
 foolish fables, we find in those pure spiritual symbols only the 
 promise of continuing throughout eternity the same miserable 
 existence which we possess here below. 
 
 In one word : only by the fundamental improvement of 
 my will does a new light arise within me concerning my exist- 
 ence and vocation ; without this, however much I may speculate, 
 and with what rare intellectual gifts soever I may be endowed, 
 darkness remains within me and around me. The improvement 
 of the heart alone leads to true wisdom. Let then my whole life 
 be unceasingly devoted to this one purpose. 
 
 IV 
 
 My Moral Will merely as such, in and through itself, shall 
 certainly and invariably produce consequences; every determi- 
 nation of my will in accordance with duty, although no action 
 should follow it, shall operate in another, to me incomprehensi- 
 ble, world, in which nothing but this moral determination of the 
 will shall possess efficient activity. What is it that is assumed 
 in this conception? 
 
522 FICHTE 
 
 Obviously a Law; a rule absolutely without exception, accord- 
 ing to which a will determined by duty must have consequences ; 
 just as in the material world which surrounds me I assume a law 
 according to which this ball, when thrown by my hand with this 
 particular force, in this particular direction, necessarily moves 
 in such a direction with a certain degree of velocity, perhaps 
 strikes another ball with a certain amount of force, which in its 
 turn moves on with a certain velocity, and so on. As here, 
 in the mere direction and motion of my hand, I already perceive 
 and apprehend all the consequent directions and movements, 
 with the same certainty as if they were already present before 
 me ; even so do I embrace by means of my virtuous will a series 
 of necessary and inevitable consequences in the spiritual world, 
 as if they were already present before me; only that I cannot 
 define them as I do those in the material world, that is, I only 
 know that they must be, but not how they shall be ; and even 
 in doing this I conceive of a Law of the spiritual world, in which 
 my pure will is one of the moving forces, as my hand is one of 
 the moving forces of the material world. My own firm confidence 
 in these results, and the conceptions of this Law of the spiritual ' 
 world, are one and the same ; they are not two thoughts, dJie 
 of which arises by means of the other, but they are entirely the 
 same thought ; just as the confidence with which I calculate on 
 a certain motion in a material body, and the conception of a 
 mechanical law of nature on which that motion depends, are one 
 and the same. The conception of a Law expresses nothing more 
 than the firm, immovable confidence of reason in a principle, 
 and the absolute impossibility of admitting its opposite. 
 
 I assume such a law of a spiritual world, not given by my 
 will nor by the will of any finite being, nor by the will of all finite 
 beings taken together, but to which my will, and the will of all 
 finite beings, is subject. Neither I, nor any finite and therefore 
 sensuous being, can conceive how a mere will can have conse- 
 quences, nor what may be the true nature of those consequences; 
 for herein consists the essential character of our finite nature, 
 that we are unable to conceive this, that having indeed our 
 will, as such, wholly within our power, we are yet compelled by 
 
THE VOCATION OF MAN 523 
 
 our sensuous nature to regard the consequences of that will as 
 sensuous states : how then can I, or any other finite being 
 whatever, propose to ourselves as objects, and thereby give 
 reality to, that which we can neither imagine nor conceive? I 
 Cannot say that, in the material world, my hand, or any other 
 body which belongs to that world and is subject to the universal 
 law of gravity, brings this law into operation; these bodies 
 themselves stand under this law, and are able to set another 
 body in motion only in accordance with this law, and only in so 
 far as that body, by virtue of this law, partakes of the universal 
 moving power of Nature. Just as little can a finite will give a 
 law to the super-sensual world, which no finite spirit can em- 
 brace ; but all finite wills stand under the law of that world, and 
 can produce results therein only inasmuch as that law already 
 exists, and inasmuch as they themselves, in accordance with the 
 form of that law which is applicable to finite wills, bring them- 
 selves under its conditions, and within the sphere of its activ- 
 ity by moral obedience ; by moral obedience, I say, the only 
 tie which unites them to that higher world, the only nerve that 
 descends from it to them, and the only organ through which 
 they can re-act upon it. As the universal power of attraction 
 embraces all bodies, and holds them together in themselves and 
 with each other, and the movement of each separate body is 
 possible only on the supposition of this power, so does that super- 
 sensual law unite, hold together, and embrace all finite reason- 
 able beings. My will, and the will of all finite beings, may be 
 regarded from a double point of view : partly as a mere voli- 
 tion, an internal act directed upon itself alone, and, in so far, 
 the will is complete in itself, concluded in this act of volition ; 
 partly as something beyond this, a fact. It assumes the latter 
 form to me, as soon as I regard it as completed ; but it must also 
 become so beyond me : in the world of sense, as the moving 
 principle, for instance, of my hand, from the movement of which, 
 again, other movements follow; in the super-sensual worlo^ 
 as the principle of a series of spiritual consequences of whij 
 have no conception. In the 'former point of view, as 
 of volition, it stands wholly within my own power ;J 
 
5 2 4 FICHTE 
 
 tion of the latter character, that of an active first principle, de- 
 pends not upon me, but on a law to which I myself am subject ; 
 
 on the law of nature hi the world of sense, on a super-sensual 
 law in the world of pure thought. 
 
 What, then, is this law of the spiritual world which I conceive? 
 This idea now stands before me, in fixed and perfect shape; a 
 cannot and dare not add anything whatever to it ; I have only 
 to express and interpret it distinctly. It is obviously not such as 
 I may suppose the principle of my own, or any other possible 
 sensuous world, to be, a fixed, inert existence, from which, 
 by the encounter of a will, some internal power may be evolved, 
 
 something altogether different from a mere will. For, and 
 this is the substance of my belief, jny will, absolutely by itself, 
 and without the intervention of any instrument that might 
 weaken its expression, shall act in" a perfectly congenial sphere, 
 
 reason upon reason, spirit upon spirit ; ina sphere to which 
 nevertheless it does not give the law of life, activity, and progress, 
 
 but which lias thlflt law rr> if^plf;- llimiTnh J ~Tipr>n gplf-arfivp 
 
 reason. But self-active reason is will. The law of the super- 
 sensual world must, therefore, be a Will, a Will which oper- 
 ates purely as will ; by itself, and absolutely without any instru- 
 ment or sensible material of its activity; which is, at the same 
 time, both act and product ; with whom to will is to do, to com- 
 mand is to execute; in which therefore the instinctive demand 
 of reason for absolute freedom and independence is realised, 
 a Will which in itself is law ; determined by no fancy or caprice, 
 through no previous reflection, hesitation or doubt : but 
 eternal, unchangeable, on which we may securely and infallibly 
 rely, as the physical man relies with certainty on the laws of his 
 world : A Will in which the moral will of finite beings, and 
 this alone, has sure and unfailing results ; since for it all else is 
 unavailing, all else is as if it were not. 
 
 That sublime Will thus pursues no solitary path withdrawn 
 from the other parts of the world of reason. There is a spiritual 
 bond between Him and all finite rational beings; and He him- 
 self is this spiritual bond of the rational universe. Let me will, 
 purely and decidedly, my duty ; and He wills that, in the spiritual 
 
THE VOCATION OF MAN 525 
 
 world at least, my will shall prosper. Every moral resolution 
 of a finite being goes up before Him, and to speak after the 
 manner of mortals moves and determines Him, not in con- 
 sequence of a momentary satisfaction, but in accordance with 
 the eternal law of His being. With surprising clearness does this 
 thought, which hitherto was surrounded with darkness, now 
 reveal itself to my soul ; the thought that my will, merely as such, 
 and through 'itself, shall have results. It has results, because it 
 is immediately and infallibly perceived by another Will to which 
 it is related, which is its own accomplishment and the only living 
 principle of the spiritual world; in Him it has its first results, 
 and through Him it acquires an influence on the whole spiritual 
 world, which throughout is but a product of that Infinite Will. 
 
 Thus do I approach the mortal must speak in his own 
 language thus do I approach that Infinite Will ; and the voice 
 of conscience in my soul, which teaches me in every situation of 
 life what I have there to do, is the. channel through which again 
 His influence descends upon me. That voice, sensualized by 
 my environment, and translated into my language, is the oracle 
 of the Eternal World which announces to me how I am to per- 
 form my part in the order of the spiritual universe, or in the 
 Infinite Will who is Himself that order. . I cannot, indeed, survey 
 or comprehend that spiritual order, and I need not to do so ; 
 I am but a link in its chain, and can no more judge of the whole, 
 than a single tone of music can judge of the entire harmony of 
 which it forms a part. But what I myself ought to be in this 
 harmony of spirits I must know, for it is only I myself who can 
 make me so, and this is immediately revealed to me by a voice 
 whose tones descend upon me from that other world. Thus do 
 I stand connected with the ONE who alone has existence, and 
 thus do I participate in His being. There is nothing real, lasting, 
 imperishable in me, but these two elements : the voice of 
 conscience, and my free obedience. By the first, the spiritual 
 world bows down to me, and embraces me as one of its members ; 
 by the second I raise myself into this world, apprehend it, and 
 re-act upon it. That Infinite Will is the mediator between it and 
 me ; for He himself is the original source both of it and me. This 
 
526 FICHTE 
 
 is the one True and Imperishable for which my soul yearns even 
 from its inmost depths ; all else is mere appearance, ever vanish- 
 ing, and ever returning in a new semblance. 
 
 This Will unites me with himself; He also unites me with all 
 finite beings like myself, and is the common mediator between 
 us all. This is the great mystery of the invisible world, and its 
 fundamental law, in so far as it is a world or system of many 
 individual wills : the union, and direct reciprocal action, of 
 many separate and independent wills; a mystery which already 
 lies clearly before every eye in the present life, without attracting 
 the notice of any one, or being regarded as in any way wonderful. 
 The voice of conscience, which imposes on each his particular 
 duty, is the light-beam on which we come forth from the bosom 
 of the Infinite, and assume our place as particular individual 
 beings ; it fixes the limits of our personality ; it is thus the true 
 original element of our nature, the foundation and material of 
 all our life. The absolute freedom of the will, which we bring 
 down with us from the Infinite into the world of Time, is the 
 principle of this our life. I act : and, the sensible intuition 
 through which alone I become a personal intelligence being 
 supposed, it is easy to conceive how I must necessarily know of 
 this my action, I know it, because it is I myseff who act ; 
 it is easy to conceive how, by means of this sensible intuition, 
 my spiritual act appears to me as a fact in a world of sense ; and 
 how, on the other hand, by the same sensualization, the law of 
 duty which, in itself, is a purely spiritual law, should appear to 
 me as the command to such an action ; it is easy to conceive, 
 how an actually present world should appear to me as the con- 
 dition of this action, and, in part, as the consequence and pro- 
 duct of it. Thus far I remain within myself and upon my own 
 territory; everything here, which has an existence for me, un- 
 folds itself purely and solely from myself; I see everywhere only 
 myself, and no true existence 'out of myself. But in this my 
 world I admit, also, the operations of other beings, separate and 
 independent of me, as much as I of them. How these beings 
 can themselves know of the influences which proceed from them, 
 
THE VOCATION OF MAN 527 
 
 may easily be conceived; they know of them in the same way 
 in which I know of my own. But how I can know of them is 
 absolutely inconceivable ; just as it is inconceivable how they 
 can possess that knowledge of my existence, and its manifesta- 
 tions, which nevertheless I ascribe to them. How do they come 
 within my world, or I within theirs, since the principle by 
 which the consciousness of ourselves, of our operations, and of 
 their sensuous conditions, is deduced from ourselves, i. e., 
 that each individual must undoubtedly know what he himself 
 does, is here wholly inapplicable ? How have free spirits 
 knowledge of free spirits, since we know that free spirits are the 
 only reality, and that an independent world of sense, through 
 which they might act on each other, is no longer to be taken 
 into account. Or shall it be said, I perceive reasonable be- 
 ings like myself by the changes which they produce in the world 
 of sense ? Then I ask again, How dost thou perceive these 
 changes? I comprehend very well how thou canst perceive 
 changes which are brought about by the mere mechanism of 
 nature ; for the law of this mechanism is no other than the law 
 of thy own thought, according to which, this world being once 
 assumed, it is carried out into farther developments. But the 
 changes of which we now speak are not brought about by the 
 mere mechanism of nature, but by a free will elevated above all 
 nature; and only in so far as thou canst regard them in this 
 character, canst thou infer from them the existence of free beings 
 like thyself. Where then is the law within thyself, according to 
 which thou canst realize the determinations of other wills abso- 
 lutely independent of thee? In short, this mutual recognition 
 and reciprocal action of free beings in this world, is perfectly 
 inexplicable by the laws of nature or of thought, and can be 
 explained only through the One in whom they are united, al- 
 though to each other they are separate; through the Infinite 
 Will who sustains and embraces them all in His own sphere. 
 Not immediately from thee to me, nor from me to thee, flows 
 forth the knowledge which we have of each other ; we are 
 separated by an insurmountable barrier. Only through the com- 
 mon fountain of our spiritual being do we know of each other; 
 
528 FICHTE 
 
 only in Him do we recognise each other, and influence each other. 
 "Here reverence the image of freedom upon the earth; here, 
 a work which bears its impress :" thus is it proclaimed within 
 me by the voice of that Will, which speaks to me only in so far 
 as it imposes duties upon me ; and the only principle through 
 which I recognise thee and thy work, is the command of con- 
 science to respect them. 
 
 Whence, then, our feelings, our sensible intuitions, our dis- 
 cursive laws of thought, on all which is founded the external 
 world which we behold, in which we believe that we exert an 
 influence on each other? With respect to the two last our sen- 
 sible intuitions and our laws of thought to say, these are laws 
 of reason in itself, is only to give no satisfactory answer at all. 
 For us, indeed, who are excluded from the pure domain of reason 
 in itself, it may be impossible to think otherwise, or to conceive 
 of reason under any other law/ But the true law of reason in 
 itself is the practical law, the law of the super-sensual world, or 
 of that sublime Will. And, leaving this for a moment undecided, 
 whence comes our universal agreement as to feelings, which, 
 nevertheless, are something positive, immediate, inexplicable? 
 On this agreement in feeling, perception, and in the laws of 
 thought, however, it depends that we all behold the same ex- 
 ternal world. 
 
 "It is a harmonious, although inconceivable, limitation of 
 the infinite rational beings who compose our race; and only by 
 means of such a harmonious limitation do they become a race :" 
 -thus answers the philosophy of mere knowledge, and here 
 it must rest as its highest point. But what can set a limit to rea- 
 son but reason itself ? what can limit all finite reason but the 
 Infinite Reason? This universal agreement concerning a sen- 
 sible world, assumed and accepted by us as the foundation of 
 all our other life, and as the sphere of our duty which, strictly 
 considered, is just as incomprehensible as our unanimity con- 
 cerning the products of our reciprocal freedom, this agree- 
 ment is the result of the One Eternal Infinite Will. Our faith, 
 of which we have spoken as faith in duty, is only faith in Him, 
 in His reason, in His truth. What, then, is the peculiar and 
 
THE VOCATION OF MAN 529 
 
 essential truth which we accept in the world of sense, and in 
 ~which we believe?' Nothing less than that from our free and 
 faithful performance of our duty in this _worlcL there will arise 
 to^usthroughout eternity ajife in which our freedom and morality 
 may still continue their development Xlf this be true, then in- 
 deed is there truth in our world, and the only truth possible for 
 finite beings; and it must be true, for this world is the result 
 of the Eternal Will in us, and that Will, by the law of His 1 
 own being, can have no other purpose with respect to finite be- 
 ings, than that which we have set forth. 
 
 That Eternal Will is thus assuredly the Creator of the World, 
 in the only way in which He can be so, and in the only way in 
 which it needs creation : in the finite reason. Those who re- 
 gard Him as building up a world from an everlasting inert matter, 
 which must still remain inert and lifeless, like a vessel made 
 by human hands, not an eternal procession of His self-develop- 
 ment, or who ascribe to Him the production of a material 
 universe out of nothing, know neither the world nor Him. If 
 matter only can be reality, then were the world indeed nothing, 
 and throughout all eternity would remain nothing. Reason 
 alone exists : the Infinite in Himself the finite in Him and 
 through Him. Only in our minds has He created a world; at 
 least that lT n W- hir.h we npfnlrl rt } arid that hy wfr/ffy we imfolfl 
 it ; - the voice of duty, and harmonious feelings, intuitions, 
 and laws of thought/ It is His light through which we behold 
 the light, and all that it reveals to us. In our minds He still 
 creates this world, and acts upon it by acting upon our minds 
 through the call of duty, as soon as another free being changes 
 aught therein. In our minds He upholds this world, and thereby 
 the finite existence of which alone we are capable, by continually 
 evolving from each state of our existence other states in succes- 
 sion. When He shall have sufficiently proved us according to 
 His supreme designs, for our next succeeding vocation, and we 
 shall have sufficiently cultivated ourselves for entering upon it, 
 then, by that which we call death, will He annihilate for us this 
 life, and introduce us to a new life, the product of our virtuous 
 actions. All our life is His life. We are in His hand, and abide 
 
530 FICHTE 
 
 therein, and no one can pluck us out of His hand. We are eternal, 
 because He is eternal. 
 
 Sublime and Living Will ! named by no name, compassed by 
 no thought ! I may well raise my soul to Thee, for Thou and I 
 are not divided. Thy voice sounds within me, mine resounds in 
 Thee ; and all my thoughts, if they be but good and true, live 
 in Thee also. In Thee, the Incomprehensible, I myself, and the 
 world in which I live, become clearly comprehensible to me; 
 all the secrets of my existence are laid open, and perfect harmony 
 arises in my soul. 
 
 Thou art best known to the child-like, devoted, simple mind. 
 To it Thou art the searcher of hearts, who seest its inmost depths ; 
 the ever-present true witness of its thoughts, who knowest its 
 truth, who knowest it though all the world know it not. Thou 
 art the Father who ever desirest its good, who rulest all things 
 for the best. To Thy will it unhesitatingly resigns itself: "Do 
 with me," it says, "what thou wilt; I know that it is good, for 
 it is Thou who doest it." The inquisitive understanding, which 
 has heard of Thee, but seen Thee not, would teach us thy nature ; 
 and as Thy image, shows us a monstrous and incongruous shape, 
 which the sagacious laugh at, and the wise and good abhor. 
 
 I hide my face before Thee, and lay my hand upon my mouth. 
 How Thou art, and seemest txTThine own being, I can never 
 know, any more than I can assume Thy nature. After thou- 
 sands upon thousands of spirit-lives, I shall comprehend Thee 
 as little as I do now in this earthly house. That which I conceive, 
 becomes finite through my very conception of it; and this can 
 never, even by endless exaltation, rise into the Infinite. Thou 
 differest from men, not in degree but in nature. In every stage 
 of their advancement they think of Thee as a greater man, and 
 still a greater; but never as God the Infinite, whom no 
 measure can mete. I have only this discursive, progressive 
 thought, and I can conceive of no other : how can I venture 
 to ascribe it to Thee? In the Idea of person there are imper- 
 fections, limitations : how can I clothe Thee with it without 
 these? 
 
 I will not attempt that which the imperfection of my finite 
 
THE VOCATION OF MAN 531 
 
 nature forbids, and which would be useless to me : How Thou 
 art, I may not know. But, let me be what I ought to be, and 
 Thy relations to me the mortal and to all mortals, lie open 
 before my eyes, and surround me more clearly than the con- 
 sciousness of my own existence. Thou workest in*me the know- 
 ledge of my duty, of my vocation in the world of reasonable 
 beings ; how, I know not, nor need I to know. Thou knowest 
 what I think and what I will : how Thou canst know, through 
 what act thou bringest about that consciousness, I cannot under- 
 stand, nay, I know that the idea of an act, of a particular 
 act of consciousness, belongs to me alone, and not to Thee, 
 the Infinite One. Thou wiliest that my free obedience shall 
 bring with it eternal consequences : the act of Thy will I 
 cannot comprehend, I only know that it is not like mine. Thou 
 doest, and Thy will itself is the deed ; but the way of Thy work- 
 ing is not as my ways, I cannot trace it. Thou lives t and art, 
 for Thou knowest and wiliest and workest, omnipresent to finite 
 Reason ; but Thou art not as / now and always must conceive 
 of being. 
 
 In the contemplations of these Thy relations to me, the finite 
 being, will I rest in calm blessedness. I know immediately 
 only what I ought to do. This will I do, freely, joyfully, and 
 without cavilling or sophistry, for it is Thy voice which com- 
 mands me to do it ; it is the part assigned to me in the spiritual 
 World-plan ; and the power with which I shall perform it is Thy 
 power. Whatever may be commanded by that voice, whatever 
 executed by that power, is, in that plan, assuredly and truly good. 
 I remain tranquil amid all the events of this world, for they are 
 in Thy world. Nothing can perplex or surprise or dishearten 
 me, as surely as Thou livest, and I can look upon Thy life. For 
 in Thee, and through Thee, O Infinite One ! do I behold even 
 my present world in another light. Nature, and natural conse- 
 quences, in the destinies and conduct of free beings, as opposed 
 to Thee, become empty, unmeaning words. Nature is no longer ; 
 Thou, only Thou, art. It no longer appears to me to be the end 
 and purpose of the present world to produce that state of uni- 
 
532 FICHTE 
 
 versal peace among men, and of unlimited dominion over the 
 mechanism of nature, for its own sake alone, but that this 
 should be produced by man himself, and, since it is expected 
 from all, that it should be produced by all, as one great, free, 
 moral, community. Nothing new and better for an individual 
 shall be attainable, except through his own virtuous will ; nothing 
 new and better for a community, except through the common 
 will being in accordance with duty: this is a fundamental 
 law of the great moral empire, of which the present life is a part. 
 The good will of the individual is thus often lost to this world, 
 because it is but the will of the individual, and the will of the 
 majority is not in harmony with his, and then its results are 
 to be found solely in a future world ; while even the passions and 
 vices of men cooperate in the attainment of good, not in and 
 for themselves, for in this sense good can never come out of evil, 
 but by holding the balance against the opposite vices, and, at 
 last, by their excess, annihilating these antagonists, and them- 
 selves with them. Oppression could never have gained the upper 
 hand in human affairs, unless the cowardice, baseness, and 
 mutual mistrust of men had smoothed the way to it. It will con- 
 tinue to increase, until it -extirpate cowardice and slavishness; 
 and despair itself at last reawaken courage. Then shall the two 
 opposite vices have annihilated each other, and the noblest of 
 all human relations, lasting freedom, come forth from their 
 antagonism. 
 
 The actions of free beings, strictly considered, have results 
 only in other free beings ; for in them, and for them alone, there 
 is a world ; and that in which they all agree, is itself the world. 
 But they have these results only through the Infinite Will, 
 the medium through which all individual beings influence each 
 other. But the announcement, the publication of this Will to us, 
 is always a call to a particular duty. Thus even what we call 
 evil in the world, the consequence of the abuse of freedom, exists 
 only through Him ; and it exists for those who experience it only 
 in so far as, through it, duties are laid upon them. Were it not 
 in the eternal plan of our moral culture, and the culture of our 
 whole race, that precisely these duties should be laid upon us, 
 
THE VOCATION OF MAN 533 
 
 they would not be so laid upon us ; and that through which they 
 are laid upon us i. e. what we call evil would not have been 
 produced. In so far, everything that is, is good, and absolutely 
 legitimate. There is but one world possible, a thoroughly 
 good world. All that happens in this world is subservient to the 
 improvement and culture of man, and, by means of this, to the 
 promotion of the purpose of his earthly existence. It is this 
 higher World-plan which we call Nature, when we say, Na- 
 ture leads men through want to industry; through the evils of 
 general disorder to a just constitution ; through the miseries of 
 continual wars to endless peace on earth. Thy will, O Infinite 
 One ! thy Providence alone, is this higher Nature. This, too, is 
 best understood by artless simplicity, when it regards this life 
 as a place of trial and culture, as a school for eternity ; when, 
 in all the events of life, the most trivial as well as the most im- 
 portant, it beholds thy guiding Providence disposing all for the 
 best ; when it firmly believes that all things must work together 
 for the good of those who love their duty, and who know Thee. 
 
 All Death in Nature is Birth, and in Death itself appears 
 visibly the exaltation of Life. There is no destructive principle 
 in Nature, for Nature throughout is pure, unclouded Life ; it is 
 not Death which kills, but the more living Life, which, concealed 
 behind the former, bursts forth into new development. Death 
 and Birth are but the struggle of Life with itself to assume a 
 more glorious and congenial form. And my death, how can 
 it be aught else, since I am not a mere show and semblance of 
 life, but bear within me the one original, true, and essential 
 Life ? It is impossible to conceive that Nature should annihilate 
 a life which does not proceed from her ; the Nature which 
 exists for me, and not I for her. 
 
 Yet even my natural life, even this mere outward manifesta- 
 tion to mortal sight of the inward invisible Life, she cannot 
 destroy without destroying herself; she who only exists for 
 me, and on account of me, and exists not if I am not. Even 
 because she destroys me must she animate me anew; it is only 
 my Higher Life, unfolding itself in her, before which my present 
 
534 
 
 FICHTE 
 
 life can disappear; and what mortals call Death is the visible 
 appearance of this second Life. Did no reasonable being who 
 had once beheld the light of this world die, there would be no 
 ground to look with faith for a new heavens and a new earth ; 
 the only possible purpose of Nature, to manifest and maintain 
 Reason, would be fulfilled here below, and her circle would be 
 completed. But the very act by which she consigns a free and 
 independent being to death, is her own solemn entrance, intel- 
 ligible to all Reason, into a region beyond this act itself, and 
 beyond the whole sphere of existence which is thereby closed. 
 Death is the ladder by which my spiritual vision rises to a new 
 Life and a new Nature. 
 
 Every one of my fellow-creatures who leaves this earthly 
 brotherhood and whom my spirit cannot regard as annihilated 
 because he is my brother, draws my thoughts after him beyond 
 the grave ; he is still, and to him belongs a place. While we 
 mourn for him here below, as in the dim realms of unconscious- 
 ness there might be mourning when a man bursts from them 
 into the light of this world's sun, above there is rejoicing that 
 a man is born into that world, as we citizens of the earth receive 
 with joy those who are born unto us. When I shall one day 
 follow, it will be but joy for me ; sorrow shall remain behind in 
 the sphere I shall have left. 
 
 The world on which but now I gazed with wonder passes 
 away from before me and sinks from my sight. With all the 
 fulness of life, order, and increase which I beheld in it, it is 
 yet but the curtain by which a world infinitely more perfect is 
 concealed from me, and the germ from which that other shall 
 develop itself. My FAITH looks behind this veil, and cherishes 
 and animates this germ. It sees nothing definite, but it expects 
 more than it can conceive here below, more than it will ever be 
 able to conceive in all time. 
 
 Thus do I live, thus am I, and thus am I unchangeable, firm, 
 and completed for all Eternity ; for this is no existence as- 
 sumed from without, it is my own, true, essential Life and 
 Being. 
 
FRIEDRIGH WILHELM VON 
 
 SGHELLING 
 
 (1775-1854) 
 
 SYSTEM OF TRANSCENDENTAL IDEALISM 
 
 Translated from the German* by 
 BENJAMIN RAND 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO IDEALISM 
 
 SECTION I. IDEA OF TRANSCENDENTAL PHILOSOPHY 
 
 i. ALL knowledge is based upon the agreement of an objective 
 with a subjective. For we know only the true, and the truth is 
 universally held to be the agreement of representations with their 
 objects. 
 
 2. The sum of all that is purely objective in our knowledge 
 we may call Nature ; whereas the sum of everything subjective 
 may be termed the Ego, or Intelligence. These two concepts are 
 mutually opposed. Intelligence is originally conceived as that 
 which solely represents, and nature as that which is merely ca- 
 pable of representation; the former as the conscious the latter 
 as the unconscious. But in all knowledge there is necessary a 
 mutual agreement of the two the conscious and the uncon- 
 scious per se. The problem is to explain this agreement. 
 
 3. In knowledge itself, in that I know, the objective and sub- 
 jective are so united that one cannot say which of the two has 
 priority. There is here no first and no second the two are 
 contemporaneous and one. In any attempt to explain this iden- 
 tity, I must already have resolved it. In order to explain it, in- 
 asmuch as there is nothing else given me as a principle of 
 explanation except these two factors of knowledge, I must of 
 necessity place the one before the other, that is to say, must set 
 out from the one in order to arrive at the other. From which of 
 the two I shall set out is not determined by the problem. 
 
 * From the System des transcendentalen Idealismus, Tubingen, 1800. 
 
536 SCHELLING 
 
 4. There are, consequently, only two cases possible: 
 
 A. Either the objective is made first, and the question arises 
 how a subjective agreeing with it is superinduced. 
 
 The idea of the subjective is not contained in the idea of the 
 objective; on the contrary they mutually exclude each other. 
 The subjective must therefore be superinduced upon the objec- 
 tive. It forms no part of the conception of Nature that there 
 must be likewise an intelligence to represent it. Nature, to all 
 appearance, would exist even if there were nothing to represent 
 it. The problem may therefore likewise be expressed thus: 
 How is the Intelligent superinduced upon Nature? or, How 
 does Nature come to be represented? 
 
 The problem assumes Nature, or the objective, as the first. 
 It is, therefore, undoubtedly the task of natural science, which 
 does the same. That natural science actually, and without know- 
 ing it, approximates, at least, to the solution of this problem 
 can here be only briefly shown. 
 
 If all knowledge has, as it were, two poles, which mutually 
 presuppose and demand each other, then they must seek each 
 other in all sciences. There must, therefore, of necessity, exist 
 two fundamental sciences ; and it must be impossible to set out 
 from one pole without being driven to the other. The necessary 
 tendency of all natural science, therefore, is to proceed from 
 Nature to the intelligent. This, and this alone, lies at the foun- 
 dation of the effort to bring theory into natural phenomena. 
 The final perfection of natural science would be the complete 
 intellectualization of all the laws of Nature into laws of intuition 
 and of thought. The phenomena, that is, the material, must 
 completely vanish, and leave only the laws, that is, the formal. 
 Hence it happens that the more the conformity to law is mani- 
 fested in Nature, so much the more the wrapping disappears 
 the phenomena themselves become more intellect ualized, and 
 at length entirely cease. Optical phenomena are nothing more 
 than a geometry whose lines are drawn by aid of the light ; and 
 even this light itself is already of doubtful materiality. In the 
 phenomena of magnetism every trace of matter has alreadv 
 vanished ; and of the phenomena of gravitation, which even the 
 
TRANSCENDENTAL IDEALISM 537 
 
 natural philosopher believed could be attributed only to direct 
 spiritual influence, there remains nothing but their law, whose 
 performance on a large scale is the mechanism of the heavenly 
 motions. The complete theory of Nature would be that by virtue* 
 of which the whole of Nature should be resolved into an intelli-f 
 gence. The dead and unconscious products of Nature are only 
 unsuccessful attempts of Nature to reflect itself, but the so- 
 called dead Nature is merely an unripe Intelligence ; hence in 
 its phenomena the intelligent character appears, though still 
 unconscious. Its highest aim, that is of becoming wholly self- 
 objective, Nature does not attain, except in its highest and last 
 reflection, which is none other than man, or more generally 
 what we call reason. By its means Nature first turns completely 
 back upon itself, and thereby it is manifest that Nature is origi- 
 nally identical with what in us is known as intelligent and con- 
 scious. 
 
 This may suffice to prove that natural science has a neces- 
 sary tendency to render Nature intelligent. By this very ten- 
 dency it becomes natural philosophy, which is one of the two 
 necessary fundamental sciences of philosophy. 
 
 B. Or the subjective is made first, and the problem is, how an 
 objective is superinduced agreeing with it. 
 
 If all knowledge is based upon the agreement of these two, 
 then the problem to explain this agreement is undoubtedly the 
 highest for all knowledge; and if, as is generally admitted, 
 philosophy is the highest and loftiest of all sciences, it becomes 
 certainly the chief task of philosophy. 
 
 But the problem demands only the explanation of that agree- 
 ment generally, and leaves it entirely undetermined where the 
 explanation shall begin, what it shall make its first, and what 
 its second. Since also the two opposites are mutually necessary, 
 the result of the operation is the same, from whichever point one 
 sets out. To make the objective the first, and to derive the sub- 1 
 jective from it, is, as has just been shown, the task of natural I 
 philosophy. 
 
 If, therefore, there is a transcendental philosophy, the only 
 direction remaining for it is the opposite, that is: to proceed frorr 
 
538 SCHELLING 
 
 the subjective as the first and the absolute, and to deduce the 
 origin of the objective from it. Natural and transcendental 
 philosophy have divided between themselves these two possible 
 directions of philosophy. And if all philosophy must have for 
 an aim to make either an Intelligence out of Nature or a Na- 
 ture out of Intelligence, then transcendental philosophy, to which 
 this latter problem belongs, is the other necessary fundamental 
 science of philosophy. 
 
 SECTION II. COROLLARIES 
 
 In the foregoing we have not only deduced the concept of 
 transcendental philosophy, but have at the same time afforded 
 the reader a glance into the whole system of philosophy. It is 
 composed, as has been shown, of two fundamental sciences, 
 which though opposed to one another in principle and direction, 
 reciprocally demand and supplement each other. Not the en- 
 tire system of philosophy, but only the one fundamental science 
 of it, is here to be set up, and, in the first place, to be more 
 strictly characterized in accordance with the idea of it already 
 deduced. 
 
 i. If, for transcendental philosophy, the subjective is the 
 first and only ground of all reality, and the sole principle of 
 explanation of everything else ( i), then it necessarily begins 
 with universal doubt regarding the reality of the objective. 
 
 As the natural philosopher, wholly intent upon the objective, 
 seeks nothing so much as to exclude every admixture of the 
 subjective in his knowledge, so, on the other hand, the tran- 
 scendental philosopher seeks nothing so much as the entire ex- 
 clusion of the objective from the purely subjective principle of 
 knowledge. The means of separation is absolute scepticism 
 not that partial scepticism which is directed merely against the 
 common prejudices of men and never sees the foundation - 
 but the radical scepticism which aims not at the individual 
 prejudices, but against the fundamental prejudice, with which 
 all others must stand or fall. For beyond the artificial and 
 inculcated prejudices of man, there exist others of deeper ori- 
 gin which have been placed in him not by art or education, 
 
TRANSCENDENTAL IDEALISM 539 
 
 but by nature itself. These are regarded by all except the 
 philosopher, as the principles of knowledge, and by the mere 
 thinker of self, as the test of all truth. 
 
 The one fundamental prejudice, to which all others may be , 
 reduced, is this: that there exist things outside of us. This isv 
 an opinion, which, although it rests neither on proofs nor on 
 conclusions (for there is not a single valid proof of it), yet as it 
 cannot be uprooted by any opposite proof (naturam furca ex- 
 pellas, tamen usque redibit), lays claim to immediate certainty. 
 But since it refers to something wholly distinct from us, and, 
 in fact, opposed to us, of which there is no evidence how it came 
 into immediate consciousness, it must be regarded as nothing 
 more than a prejudice a natural and original one, to be sure, ' 
 but nevertheless a prejudice. 
 
 The contradiction that a conclusion which in its nature can- 
 not be immediately certain, is, nevertheless, blindly and without! 
 grounds, accepted as such, cannot be solved by transcendental! 
 philosophy, except on the assumption that this conclusion is 
 implicitly, and without our being aware of it, not founded upon, , 
 but identical, and one and the same with an affirmation which ' 
 is immediately certain. To demonstrate this identity will in^ 
 reality be the task of transcendental philosophy. 
 
 2. Now, even for the ordinary use of reason, there exists 
 nothing immediately certain except the affirmation / am, which, 
 since it loses all significance outside of immediate conscious- 
 ness, is the most individual of all truths, and the absolute pre- 
 judice, which must be assumed, if anything else is to be made 
 certain. The affirmation There are things outside of us, will 
 therefore be certain for the transcendental philosopher, solely 
 because of its identity with the affirmation / am ; and its cer- 
 tainty will also only be equal to the certainty of the affirmation 
 from which it derives its own. 
 
 According to this view transcendental knowledge would be 
 distinguished from common knowledge in two particulars. 
 , First. That for it the certainty of the existence of external 
 things is a mere prejudice, which it transcends, in order to inves- 
 tigate the grounds of it. (It can never be the task for transcen- 
 
540 SCHELLING 
 
 dental philosophy to prove the existence of things in themselves, 
 but only to show that it is a natural and necessary prejudice 
 to assume external objects as real.) 
 
 Second. That it separates the two affirmations, / am and 
 There are things outside of me, which run together in the or- 
 dinary consciousness, and places the one before the other, in 
 order to prove their identity and that immediate connection 
 which in the other is only felt. By this act of separation, when 
 it is completed, one transports one's self in the transcendental 
 act of contemplation, which is by no means a natural, but an 
 artificial one. 
 
 3. If the subjective alone has reality for the transcendental 
 philosopher he will also make only the subjective directly his 
 object. The objective will be for him only indirectly an object, 
 and, whereas, in ordinary knowledge, knowledge itself the act 
 of knowing disappears in the object, in transcendental know- 
 ledge, on the contrary, the object as such disappears in the act 
 of knowing. Transcendental knowledge is therefore a know- 
 ledge of knowing, in so far as it is purely subjective. 
 
 Thus, for example, in intuition it is the objective only that 
 reaches the ordinary consciousness ; the act of intuition is itself 
 lost in the object; whereas on the contrary the transcendental 
 mode of observation gets only a glimpse of the object of intui- 
 tion by the act of intuition. Thus the ordinary thinking is a 
 mechanism, in which ideas prevail, without, however, being dis- 
 tinguished as ideas; whereas the transcendental act of thought 
 interrupts this mechanism, and in becoming conscious of the 
 idea as an act, rises to the idea of the idea. In ordinary action, 
 the acting is itself forgotten in the object of the action ; philo- 
 sophizing is also an action, but not an action only. It is likewise 
 a continued self-intuition in this action. 
 
 The nature of the transcendental mode of thought must con- 
 sist, therefore, in general in this : that, in it, that which in jalt 
 other thinking, knowing, or acting escapes the consciousness^' 
 and is absolutely non-objective, is brought into consciousness 
 and becomes objective. In brief, it consists in a continuous^ act 
 of becoming an object to itself on the part of the subjective. 
 
TRANSCENDENTAL IDEALISM 541 
 
 The transcendental art will therefore consist in the ability to 
 maintain one's self constantly in this duplicity of acting and 
 thinking. 
 
 SECTION III. PRELIMINARY DIVISION OF TRANSCENDENTAL 
 
 PHILOSOPHY 
 
 This division is preliminary, because the principles of the 
 division can be derived only from the science itself. 
 
 We return to the idea of science. 
 
 Transcendental philosophy has to explain how knowledge is 
 possible at all, assuming that the subjective in it is accepted as 
 the ruling or first element. 
 
 It is therefore, not a single part, nor a special object of know- 
 ledge, but knowledge itself, and knowledge in general, that it 
 takes for its object. 
 
 Now all knowledge can be reduced to certain original con- 
 jvictions or original prejudices. These different convictions tran- 
 scendental philosophy must trace to one original conviction. 
 This ultimate conviction from which all others are derived, is 
 expressed in the first principle of this philosophy, and the task 
 of finding such is none other than to find the absolutely certain 
 by which all other certainty is attained. 
 
 The division of transcendental philosophy is determined through 
 those original convictions, whose validity it affirms. These con- 
 victions must, in the first place, be sought in the common un- 
 derstanding. If, therefore, we go back to the standpoint of 
 the ordinary view, we find the following convictions deeply en- 
 graven in the human understanding : 
 
 A. That not only does there exist a world of things indepen- 
 dent of us, but also that our representations agree with them in 
 such a manner that there is nothing else in the things beyond 
 what we represent by them. The necessity in our objective re- 
 presentations is explained by the belief that the things are un- 
 alterably determined, and that by this determination of things 
 our representations appear to be mediately determined. By 
 this first and most original conviction, the first problem of philo- 
 sophy is determined, viz.: to explain how representations can 
 
542 SCHELLING 
 
 absolutely agree with objects which exist entirely independent 
 of them. Since it is upon the assumption that things are exactly 
 as we represent them, and that we therefore certainly know 
 things as they are in themselves, that the possibility of all ex- 
 perience rests (for what would experience be, and where would 
 physics, for example, stray to, without that presupposition of the 
 absolute identity of being and seeming?), the solution of this 
 problem is identical with theoretical philosophy, which has to 
 investigate the possibility of experience. 
 
 B. The second equally original conviction is, that represen- 
 tations which originate in us freely and without necessity can 
 pass over from the world of thought into the real world, and 
 attain objective reality. 
 
 This conviction is opposed to the first. According to the first, 
 it is assumed that objects are unalterably determined, and our 
 representations by them; according to the other, that objects 
 are changeable, and that, too, by the causality of representa- 
 tions in us. According to the first conviction, a transition takes 
 place within us from the real world into the world of representa- 
 tions, or a determining of the representations by the objective; 
 according to the second, a transition takes place from the world 
 of representations into the world of reality, or a determining of 
 the objective by a (freely conceived) representation in us. 
 
 By this second conviction, a second problem is determined, viz. 
 how, by something merely thought, an objective is changeable, 
 so as entirely to correspond with that something thought. 
 
 Since the possibility of all free action rests upon that assump- 
 tion, the solution of this problem is practical philosophy. 
 
 C. But with these two problems we find ourselves involved in 
 a contradiction. According to B, the supremacy of thought (the 
 ideal) over the world of sense is demanded. But how is such 
 supremacy conceivable, if (according to A) the idea in its origin 
 is already only the slave of the objective ? On the other hand, 
 if the real world is something wholly independent of us, and is 
 something with which our ideas must conform as their pattern 
 (by A), then it becomes inconceivable how, on the other hand, 
 the real world can conform to the ideas in us (by B). In brief, 
 
TRANSCENDENTAL IDEALISM 543 
 
 in the theoretical certainty we lose the practical; in the prac- 
 tical we lose the theoretical. It is impossible that at the same 
 time there should be truth in our knowledge and reality in our 
 volition. 
 
 This contradiction must be solved, if there is to be a philoso- 
 phy at all. The solution of this problem, or the answering of 
 the question : How can ideas be conceived as conforming to ob- 
 jects, and at the same time objects as conforming to ideas ? - 
 is not the first, but is the chief task of transcendental philosophy. 
 
 It is easy to see that this problem cannot be solved either in 
 theoretical or practical philosophy, but in a higher one, which 
 is the connecting link of both, and is neither theoretical nor 
 practical, but both at the same time. 
 
 How at the same time the objective world conforms to repre- 
 sentations in us, and representations in us conform to the objec- 
 tive world, cannot be conceived, unless there exists a preestablished 
 harmony between the two worlds of the ideal and the real. But 
 this preestablished harmony is itself not conceivable unless the 
 activity by which the objective world is produced, is originally 
 identical with that which displays itself in volition, and vice versa. 
 
 Now it is certainly a productive activity which manifests itself 
 in volition. All free action is productive, but productive only 
 with consciousness. If, then, since the two activities are only 
 one in principle, we suppose that the same activity which is 
 productive with consciousness in free action, is productive with- 
 out consciousness in the production of the world, this prees- 
 tablished harmony is a reality, and the contradiction is solved. 
 If we suppose that all this is actually the case, then that origi-* 
 nal identity of the activity which is engaged in the produc : - 
 tion of the world, with that which exhibits itself in volition,* 
 must manifest itself in the productions of the former, and these 
 must necessarily appear as the productions of an activity at 
 once conscious and unconscious. 
 
 Nature, as a whole, no less than in its different productions, 
 will of necessity appear as a work produced with consciousness 
 and yet at the same time as the production of the blindest mech- 
 anism. It is the result of purpose without being explainable 
 
544 SCHELLING 
 
 as such. The philosophy of the aims of Nature, or teleology, is 
 therefore the required point of union of theoretical and practical 
 philosophy. 
 
 D. Heretofore, we have posited only in general terms the 
 identity of the unconscious activity which has produced Nature, 
 and the conscious activity which manifests itself in volition, 
 without having decided where the principle of this activity lies, 
 whether in Nature or in us. 
 
 But now the system of knowledge can be regarded as com- 
 plete only when it reverts to its principle. Transcendental philo- 
 sophy would therefore be completed only when it also could 
 demonstrate that identity the highest solution of its entire 
 problem in its principle (the Ego). 
 
 It is therefore postulated, that activity, at once conscious and 
 unconscious, can be shown in the subjective, that is in conscious- 
 ness itself. 
 
 Such an activity can be no other than the tzsthetic, and every 
 work of art can only be conceived as the product of- such. The 
 ideal work of art and the real world of objects are therefore 
 products of one and the same activity. The meeting of the two 
 (of the conscious and the unconscious) gives without conscious- 
 ness the real, with consciousness the aesthetic world. 
 
 The objective world is only the original still unconscious 
 poetry of the soul. The universal organum of philosophy the 
 keystone of its entire arch is the philosophy of art. 
 
 SECTION IV. ORGAN OF TRANSCENDENTAL PHILOSOPHY 
 
 i. The only immediate object of transcendental consideration 
 is the subjective ( 2). The sole organ of this method of philoso- 
 phizing is therefore the inner sense, and its object is of such a 
 nature that, unlike that of mathematics, it can never become the 
 object of external intuition. The object of mathematics, to be 
 sure, exists as little outside of knowledge, as that of philosophy. 
 The entire existence of mathematics depends upon the intuition. 
 It exists, therefore, only in the intuition ; but this intuition itself 
 is an external one. In addition to this the mathematician has 
 
TRANSCENDENTAL IDEALISM 545 
 
 never to do immediately with the intuition the construction 
 itself but only with the thing constructed, which can certainly 
 be presented outwardly. The philosopher, however, regards only 
 the act of construction itself, which is purely an internal one. 
 
 2. Moreover, the objects of the transcendental philosopher 
 have no existence, except in so far as they are freely produced. 
 One cannot be compelled to this production any more than one 
 can be compelled by the external drawing of a mathematical, 
 figure to regard it internally. Just as the existence of a mathe-- 
 matical figure depends upon external sense, so the entire reality- 
 of a philosophical concept depends upon the inner sense. The. 
 whole object of this philosophy is no other than the action of- 
 the intelligence according to fixed laws. This action can be con- . 
 ceived only through a peculiar, direct, inner intuition, and this - 
 again is possible only by production. But this is not enough. 
 In philosophizing, one is not only the object, but is always at the 
 same time the subject of the reflection. Two conditions are con- 
 sequently demanded for 'the understanding of philosophy. First, 
 the philosopher must be engaged in a continued inner activity, in 
 a continuous production of those original actions of intelligence ; 
 second, he must be engaged in continuous reflection upon this 
 productive action ; in a word, he must at the same time always 
 be the contemplated (producing) and the contemplating. 
 
 3. By this continuous duplicity of production and of intuition, 
 that must become an object which is otherwise reflected by no- 
 thing. It cannot be proved here, but will be proved later, that 
 this becoming-reflected on the part of the absolutely uncon- 
 scious and non-objective, is possible only by an aesthetic act of 
 the imagination. Nevertheless, it is certain from what has al- 
 ready been proved that all philosophy is productive. Philosophy, 
 therefore, as well as art, rests upon the productive faculty, and 
 the difference between the two consists merely in the different 
 direction of the productive power. For whereas production in 
 art is directed outward, /in order to reflect the unconscious by 
 products; philosophical' production is directed immediately in- 
 ward, in order to reflect it in intellectual intuition. The special 
 sense by which this kind of philosophy must be grasped is there- 
 
546 SCHELLING 
 
 fore the aesthetic sense, and hence it is that the philosophy of 
 art is the true organum of philosophy (3). 
 
 From the vulgar reality there exist only two outlets: poetry, 
 which transports us into the ideal world, and philosophy, which 
 causes the real world wholly to vanish before us. It is not clear 
 why the sense for philosophy should be more widely diffused 
 than that for poetry, especially among the classes of men who 
 have not wholly lost the aesthetic organ either by memory work 
 (nothing destroys more directly the productive power) or by 
 dead speculation, which is ruinous to all imaginative power. 
 
 4. It is unnecessary to occupy more time with the common- 
 places about the sense of truth, or about entire disregard for 
 results, although it might be asked, what other conviction can 
 be sacred to one who questions the most certain of all that 
 there are things outside of us. We may rather take a glance at 
 the so-called claims of the common understanding. 
 
 The common understanding in matters of philosophy has no 
 claims whatsoever, except those which all objects of investiga- 
 tions have, viz., to be perfectly explained. 
 
 It is not, therefore, our business to prove that what is held 
 for true, is true, but only to disclose the unavoidableness of its 
 illusions. This implies that the objective world belongs only to 
 the necessary limitations which render self-consciousness (the 
 I am) possible; it is enough for the common understanding, if 
 from this view the necessity of its own view is derived. 
 
 For this purpose it is necessary, not only that the inner machi- 
 nery of our mental activity be disclosed, and the mechanism 
 of necessary ideas revealed, but also that it should be shown 
 by what peculiarity of our nature it is necessary that what has 
 reality only in our intuition, is reflected to us as something 
 existing outside of us. 
 
 As natural science produces idealism out of realism, when 
 it intellectualizes t^e laws of nature into laws of intelligence, 
 or superinduces tljp formal upon the material ( i), so tran- 
 scendental philosophy produces realism out of idealism when 
 it materializes the laws of intelligence into laws of nature, or 
 introduces the material into the formal. 
 
TRANSCENDENTAL IDEALISM 547 
 
 FIRST DIVISION. THE PRINCIPLE OF TRAN- 
 SCENDENTAL IDEALISM 
 
 SECTION I. THE NECESSITY AND NATURE OF A HIGHEST 
 PRINCIPLE OF KNOWLEDGE 
 
 1. Meanwhile we will assume as hypothesis, that there is in 
 general, reality in our knowledge. We will then ask : What are 
 the conditions of this reality ? Whether reality actually belongs 
 to our knowledge will depend upon whether these conditions, 
 which are so far merely deducible from our hypothesis, can 
 hereafter be shown to be demonstrable. 
 
 If all knowledge is based upon the agreement of an objective 
 and subjective (Introd. i), then our entire knowledge consists 
 of principles which are not immediately true, but which derive 
 their reality from something else. 
 
 The mere juxtaposition of a subjective with a subjective con- 
 stitutes no proper knowledge. And conversely, true knowledge 
 presupposes a meeting of opposites, whose conjunction can at 
 best be only mediated. 
 
 There must be, therefore, in our knowledge, some general - 
 mediating property which is the only ground of knowledge. 
 
 2. It is assumed as an hypothesis that there is a system in our. 
 knowledge, that is to say, there is a whole, which supports itself, ^ 
 and is in harmony with itself. The sceptic denies this presuppo- 
 sition just as he does the first ; and like the former hypothesis, 
 it can be proven only by the act itself. What then would be the 
 consequence if our knowledge, yes, even if our entire nature, , 
 were in itself contradictory ? Therefore, let us merely assume . 
 that our knowledge is one original whole, and that the system 
 of philosophy gives the outline scheme of this whole, then the 
 question again is, first of all, to enquire concerning the condi- 
 tions of this whole. 
 
 Since every valid system (as e. g. that of the universe) must 
 have the basis of its existence in itself, so likewise, if there exists 
 a system of knowledge, the principle of it must lie within the 
 knowledge itself. 
 
548 SCHELLING 
 
 3. There can be only one such principle, inasmuch as all 
 truth is absolutely self -identical. There may exist degrees of 
 probability, but truth admits of no degrees. What is true is 
 
 equally true. But it would be impossible for the truth of all 
 affirmations of knowledge to be absolutely alike, if they de- 
 rived their truths from different principles (parts of mediation). 
 There must consequently be only one (mediating) principle in 
 all kno'wledge. 
 
 4. This principle is the mediate or indirect principle of every 
 science, but the immediate and direct principle only of the 
 science of all knowledge, or of transcendental philosophy. 
 
 By the task of establishing a science of all knowledge, that is, 
 one which makes the subjective first and highest, one is immedi- 
 ately driven to a highest principle of all knowledge. 
 
 All objections to such an absolute highest principle of know- 
 ledge are precluded by the very idea of transcendental phi- 
 losophy. They all arise merely from overlooking the limitation 
 of the first problem of this science, which at the very outset 
 withdraws from every objective and keeps in view solely the 
 subjective. 
 
 We are not at all concerned with an absolute principle of 
 being, for all those objections hold against it ; but are concerned 
 with an absolute principle of knowledge. 
 
 But now it is evident that if there were no absolute boundary 
 of knowledge no something which lays hold of and binds 
 us absolutely in knowledge without our being conscious of it, 
 and which even in the very act of knowing does not become 
 for us an object, for the very reason that it is the principle of 
 all knowledge then all knowledge, even a knowledge of any 
 particulars, would be impossible. 
 
 The transcendental philosopher does not ask : What last foun- 
 dation of our knowledge may lie outside of it ? but, What is the 
 last in our knowledge itself, beyond which we cannot proceed ? 
 He seeks the principle of knowledge within knowledge. It is 
 therefore something that can be known. 
 
 The assertion : There exists a highest principle of knowledge 
 is not (like the assertion : There exists an absolute principle of 
 
TRANSCENDENTAL IDEALISM 549 
 
 being) a positive but a negative and restricting proposition, 
 meaning only that there is some kind of ultimate from which 
 all knowledge takes its beginning, and beyond which there is no 
 knowledge. 
 
 Since the transcendental philosopher (Introd. i) makes 
 throughout only the subjective his object, he affirms merely that 
 subjectively, that is to say, for us, there exists some kind of a 
 first knowledge. Whether apart from us, beyond this first know- 
 ledge, there really is a something, does not at first concern him 
 at all. Concerning this question the sequel must decide. 
 
 The first knowledge is for us undoubtedly the knowledge of 
 ourselves, or self-consciousness. When the idealist accepts this 
 knowledge as the principle of philosophy, it is in conformity 
 with the limited object of his entire task, which has no other 
 object beyond the subjective of knowledge. That self-conscious- 
 ness is the fixed point to which for us everything is bound, needs 
 no proof. But that this self-consciousness might be indeed only 
 the modification of a higher being (probably of a higher con- 
 sciousness, and this of a still higher, and so on ad infinitum), 
 
 in a word, that even self -consciousness can be in general 
 something at all capable of being explained through something 
 of which we can know nothing, just because the entire synthesis 
 of our knowledge is first constructed through self-consciousness 
 
 is of no concern to us as transcendental philosophers. The 
 reason is that self-consciousness is not a kind of being, but a 
 kind of knowledge, and indeed, the highest and final, that for us 
 exists at all. 
 
 To proceed farther, it may even be proved, and in part has 
 already been proved (Introd. i), that even if the objective is 
 voluntarily accepted as the first, we nevertheless can never go 
 beyond self-consciousness. We are then either driven back in 
 our explanation into an infinite series from the grounded to the 
 ground, or we must voluntarily break the series by setting up 
 an absolute as first, which is in and of itself, cause and effect, 
 subject and object ; and since this is possible originally only by 
 means of self-consciousness we must further break the continuity 
 by setting up self -consciousness as first. This is done by natural 
 
550 SCHELLING 
 
 science, for which being is primal even as little as for transcenden- 
 tal philosophy (cf. "Outline of a System of Philosophy of Nature)." 
 It places the only reality in an absolute, which is and is of it- 
 self cause and effect, that is, in the absolute identity of the sub- 
 jective and objective, which we term nature, and which again in 
 its highest potency is nothing else but self-consciousness. 
 
 Dogmatism, for which being is the original, can indeed ex- 
 plain in no other way except by means of an infinite regress; 
 for the succession of causes and effects along which its explana- 
 tion runs could only be concluded by something which is at 
 one and the same time in itself cause and effect. But just thereby 
 it would be transformed into natural science, which in turn in 
 its fulness reverts to the principle of transcendental idealism. 
 (Consistent dogmatism exists only in Spinozism ; but Spinozism 
 as a real system can again survive only as natural science, the 
 last result of which becomes in turn the principle of transcend- 
 ental philosophy.) 
 
 From the foregoing it is evident that self-consciousness em- 
 braces the entire horizon of our knowledge broadened even to 
 the infinite, and remains in every direction the highest. Never- 
 theless there is for the present purpose no need of this far- 
 reaching consideration, but only of the reflection upon the mean- 
 ing of our first problem. The following argument will doubtless 
 make it intelligible and self-evident to every one. 
 
 It is at present my purpose only to introduce a system into 
 my knowledge, and to seek within knowledge itself that by 
 means of which all individual knowledge is determined. But 
 that whereby everything in my knowledge is determined is with- 
 out doubt the knowledge of myself. Inasmuch as I desire onlyj 
 to ground my knowledge in itself I seek no further concerning 
 the last ground of that first knowledge (i. e. of self-conscious- 
 ness), which if any such exists must necessarily be outside of 
 knowledge. Self -consciousness is the luminous point in the en- 
 tire system of knowledge; but it illumines only forwards, not 
 backwards. Granted even that this self -consciousness is only 
 a modification of a being independent of it, which, to be sure, 
 no philosophy can indeed make- conceivable, it is still for me at 
 
TRANSCENDENTAL IDEALISM 551 
 
 present no kind of being, but a kind of knowledge, and in this 
 quality only do I here regard it. Through the limitation of my 
 task, which carries me back to the infinite and includes me in 
 the circle of knowledge, self-consciousness becomes for me some-y 
 thing independent, and the absolute principle, not of all being, 
 but of all knowledge, since all knowledge, and not merely my 
 own must proceed from it. That knowledge in general, and that 
 this first knowledge in particular, is dependent upon an existence 
 which is independent of it, no dogmatist has yet proved. Up to 
 the present it is just as possible that all existence is only the 
 modification of one knowledge, as that all knowledge is only 
 the modification of one existence. Nevertheless, abstracted and 
 viewed wholly apart from the question, whether the necessary 
 is at all identical with existence and knowledge merely the ac- 
 cident of existence, knowledge for our science becomes independ- 
 ent by the very fact that we consider it only in so far as it is 
 merely subjective. 
 
 Whether it is absolutely independent may remain undecided, 
 until such time as science itself decides, whether anything can 
 be thought that is not derived from this knowledge itself. 
 
 Against the task itself, or rather against the defining of the 
 task, the dogmatist can still raise no objection, for the reason 
 that I may quite arbitrarily limit my task; while I may not 
 arbitrarily extend my task to something, which, as can be seen 
 in advance, can never fall within the sphere of my knowledge, 
 as, for instance, a last ground of knowledge outside of know- 
 ledge. The only possible objection against our definition is this, 
 that the task thus appointed may not be the task of philosophy, 
 its solution not philosophy. 
 
 However, what philosophy may be is the very question as yet 
 unsolved. The answering can be the outcome only of philosophy 
 itself. That the solution of this task is philosophy can be proved 
 only by the doing of it, that is, by solving together with this task all 
 those problems which one has ever sought to solve in philosophy. 
 
 We affirm, nevertheless, with the same right with which the 
 dogmatist affirms the opposite, that what one has heretofore 
 understood by philosophy is possible only as a science of know- 
 
552 SCHELLING 
 
 ledge, and has not being, but knowledge for its object ; that its 
 principle can therefore not be a principle of being, but only a 
 principle of knowledge. Whether we shall succeed more surely 
 in arriving at being from knowledge, in deriving everything 
 objective from the knowledge which at first we only assumed to 
 be independent for the benefit of our science, and in raising it 
 thereby to absolute independence, whether we shall succeed 
 more surely in this than the dogmatist in his opposite attempt to 
 create knowledge from being which he assumes to be independ- 
 ent, the sequel must decide. 
 
 5. By the first undertaking of our science, which is to seek 
 whether a transition can be found from knowledge as such (in 
 so far as it is act), to the objective in it (which is no act, but a 
 being or an existence), knowledge is already posited as indepen- 
 dent. Nothing can be urged against this undertaking itself be- 
 fore we have tried it. 
 
 It is therefore likewise posited by this task, that knowledge 
 has an absolute principle in itself ; and that this principle lying 
 within knowledge itself shall be also the principle of transcendental 
 philosophy as a science. 
 
 But further, every science is a totality of principles with a 
 determined form. If therefore the entire system of science shall 
 be established by means of such a principle, then it must deter- 
 mine not only the content, but also the form of this science. 
 
 It is universally assumed that there belongs to philosophy a 
 characteristic form, which is called systematic. To assume 
 this form without deriving it, may be permitted in the other 
 sciences which already presuppose the science of science, but 
 not in this science, which has as its very object the possibility 
 of such a form. 
 
 What is scientific form, really, and what is its object ? This 
 question must be answered by the science of knowledge, for all 
 the other sciences. Since, however, this science of knowledge is 
 in itself a science, there would be needed a science of knowledge 
 of the science of knowledge. But this again would be a science, 
 and so on ad infinitum. The question arises, how this circle, 
 since it is apparently indissoluble, can be explained. 
 
TRANSCENDENTAL IDEALISM 553 
 
 This circle, which is unavoidable for science, cannot be ex- 
 plained, unless it has originally its origin in knowledge itself 
 I (the object of science), in such a way that the original content 
 :of knowledge presupposes the original form, and conversely 
 that the original form of knowledge presupposes the original con- 
 tent of it, and that both are mutually conditioned. For this pur- 
 pose, therefore, it would be necessary to find in intelligence itself 
 some point where both form and content originate by one and 
 the same indivisible act of original knowledge. The task of find- 
 ing this point would have to be identical with that of finding the 
 principle of all knowledge. 
 
 The principle of philosophy must therefore be of such a 
 nature that in it the content is conditioned by the form, and 
 again, the form conditioned by the content ; and that not one 
 presupposes the other but that they reciprocally presuppose one 
 another. Against this first principle of philosophy, among other 
 things the following argument has been urged. The principle 
 of philosophy must permit of being expressed in a fundamental 
 proposition, and this fundamental proposition shall without 
 doubt not only be formal but also material. But now every 
 proposition, whatever its content, is subject to the laws of logic. 
 Every fundamental proposition, therefore, of a material nature, 
 through the mere fact that it is such, presupposes higher princi- 
 ples, which are those of logic. Now there is nothing lacking to 
 this argument, except that one ought to reverse it. Let any one 
 think of a formal proposition, e. g. A = A, as the highest. 
 What is logical in this proposition is merely the form of the 
 identity between A and A ; but whence does the A itself come ? 
 If A is, it is like itself; but whence is it? Undoubtedly this 
 question cannot be answered by the proposition itself, but only 
 by means of a higher one. The analysis A = A presupposes 
 the synthesis A. It is therefore evident that no formal principle 
 can be thought without a material one; nor a material prin- 
 ciple without presupposing a formal one. 
 
 From this circle, that every form presupposes a content and 
 every content a form, one cannot extricate one's self, unless some 
 proposition is found in which there is reciprocally conditioned 
 
554 SCHELLING 
 
 and made possible the form by means of the content and the 
 content by means of the form. 
 
 The first false presupposition in this argument therefore is, 
 that the fundamental propositions of logic are unconditioned, 
 that is to say, cannot be derived from any higher propositions. 
 Now the logical fundamental propositions originate for us only 
 in that we make as content for these what in other propositions 
 is only the form. Logic can therefore only originate through 
 abstraction of determined propositions. If it arises in scientific 
 form, it can only originate through abstraction of the supreme 
 fundamental propositions of knowledge, and since these again 
 as fundamental principles presuppose already the logical form 
 they must be of such a character that in them both form and 
 matter are reciprocally conditioned and produced. 
 
 But it must be apparent that this abstraction cannot be made 
 before these highest fundamental principles of knowledge are 
 established; before the science of knowledge itself has been 
 created. This new circle, that the science of knowledge at the 
 same time establishes logic, and yet according to the laws of 
 logic must be created, finds the same explanation as the circle 
 previously set forth. Since in the highest fundamental principles 
 of knowledge the form and the content are mutually conditioned, 
 the science of knowledge must be equally the law and the most 
 perfect exercise of scientific form, and must likewise be ab- 
 solutely autonomous in its form as well as in its content. 
 
 SECTION II. DEDUCTION OF THE PRINCIPLE ITSELF 
 
 We speak here of a deduction of the highest principle. There 
 can be no question of the derivation of this principle from a 
 higher one, nor in general of a proof of its content. The proof 
 can only relate to the worth of this principle, that is, can only 
 prove that this principle is the highest and has all the charac- 
 teristics which belong to a highest principle. 
 
 This deduction can be made by very different methods. We 
 select that one, which, while it appears to us to be the easiest, 
 at the same time permits the true meaning of the principle to 
 be most immediately seen. 
 
TRANSCENDENTAL IDEALISM 555 
 
 1. That knowledge is possible at all not this or that definite 
 knowledge, but some knowledge, at the very least a knowledge 
 of our ignorance the sceptic himself admits. If we know any- 
 thing, this knowledge is either conditioned or unconditioned. 
 Conditioned ? then we know it only because it is connected with 
 something unconditioned. We thus come in any case to an un- 
 conditioned knowledge. (That there must be something in our 
 knowledge that we do not know from something higher, has 
 already been proven in the preceding chapter.) 
 
 The only question is, What is there then unconditionally 
 known ? 
 
 2. I know unconditionally only that, the knowledge of which 
 is conditioned solely by the subjective, not by the objective. 
 Now it is affirmed that only such knowledge as is expressed in 
 identical propositions is conditioned solely through the subjective. 
 For in the judgment A = A one abstracts entirely from the con- 
 tent of the subject A. Whether A has reality at all or not is en- 
 tirely indifferent for this knowledge. If, therefore, complete 
 abstraction is made of the reality of the subject, then A is con- 
 sidered solely in so far as it is posited in us, represented by us ; 
 one does not inquire at all whether something outside of us 
 corresponds to this presentation. The proposition is evident 
 and certain, regarded entirely apart from the question whether 
 A is something actually existing, or merely imagined, or itself 
 impossible. For the proposition says only this : When I think 
 A, I think nothing but A. The knowledge in this proposition 
 is conditioned solely through my thinking (the subjective) ; i. e. 
 according to the explanation it is unconditioned. 
 
 3. But in all knowledge an objective is thought as in conjunc- 
 tion with the subjective. In the proposition A=A there is how- 
 ever no such conjunction. All primal knowledge thus goes be- 
 yond mere conceptual identity, and the proposition A=A must 
 itself assume such knowledge. When I think A, I think of it, to 
 be sure, as A ; but how does it happen that I think A ? If it be 
 an idea freely created, then it can be the foundation of no know- 
 ledge ; if it be an idea accompanied by the feeling of necessity, 
 then it must have objective reality. 
 
556 SCHELLING 
 
 If now all propositions are termed synthetic in which subject 
 and predicate are mediated not merely by the identity in the 
 act of thought but by something foreign to the thought and dis- 
 tinct from it, then our entire knowledge consists solely of syn- 
 thetic propositions, and only in such propositions is there actual 
 knowledge, i. e. knowledge which has its object outside of us. 
 
 4. But now synthetic propositions are not unconditioned, i. e. 
 certain by themselves, for only the identical or analytical are 
 such (2). Therefore in order that there may be certainty in syn- 
 thetic propositions and thereby in our entire knowledge they 
 must be carried back to an unconditioned something, that is 
 to say, to the identity of the act of thought in general. This 
 however contradicts itself. 
 
 5. This contradiction would be capable of solution only in the 
 event that some point might be found in which the identical and 
 synthetical coincide ; or in the event that a proposition could be 
 found, which while it is identical is at the same time synthetic, 
 and while it is synthetic is at the same time identical. 
 
 In view of those propositions in which an entirely foreign 
 objective is in conjunction with a subjective (and this happens 
 in every synthetic judgment A = B ; the predicate or concept 
 always in such cases represents the subjective, and the subject 
 the objective), it is inconceivable how certainty can be attained. 
 
 a. Unless there is something absolutely true. For if there 
 were in our knowledge an infinite regress from principle to 
 principle in order to attain to the feeling of that compulsion 
 (of the certainty of the proposition) we should have to run 
 backwards, unconsciously at least, through that infinite regress. 
 This is clearly absurd. If the regress is actually infinite then it 
 can in no way be traversed. If it is not infinite, then there is 
 something absolutely true. If such absolute certainty exists, 
 our entire knowledge and every single truth in our knowledge 
 must be interwoven with it. The obscure feeling of this connec- 
 tion produces that feeling of compulsion with which we hold 
 any proposition to be true. This obscure feeling ought to be 
 resolved by philosophy into clear concepts, by revealing that 
 connection and its principal links. 
 
TRANSCENDENTAL IDEALISM 557 
 
 b. That absolute truth can only be identical knowledge. 
 Since now all true knowledge is synthetic, it follows that such 
 absolute truth, inasmuch as it is an identical knowledge, must at 
 the same time be also a synthetic knowledge. If therefore abso- 
 lute truth exists, there must also exist a point where the syn- 
 thetic knowledge springs immediately from the identical, and the 
 identical from the synthetic. 
 
 6. In order to solve the problem how to find such a point, we 
 must undoubtedly probe still deeper into the opposition be- 
 tween identical and synthetic propositions. 
 
 In every proposition two concepts are compared with each 
 other, i. e., they are posited as like or unlike one another. Now 
 in the identical propositions only the act of thought is compared 
 with itself. The synthetic proposition on the other hand goes 
 beyond the mere act of thought. This is because when I think 
 the subject of the proposition I do not likewise think the predi- 
 cate, as the predicate is added to the subject. The object of my 
 thought is therefore here not merely determined by the fact that 
 it is thought, but it is viewed as real, for real is precisely that 
 which cannot be created by the mere thinking. 
 
 If now an identical proposition is that where the concept is 
 compared only with the concept, and a synthetic proposition 
 that where the concept is compared with the object differing 
 from it, then the task of finding a point where the identical 
 knowledge is at the same time synthetic, is equivalent to finding 
 a point in which the object and its concept, the thing and its pre- 
 sentation, are originally, directly, and without any mediation one. 
 
 That this problem is identical with that of finding a princi- 
 ple of all knowledge, can be still more briefly proved. How the 
 presentation and the object can harmonize is wholly inexplicable 
 unless there is in knowledge itself a point where both are originally 
 one, or where there exists the most perfect identity of being and 
 of presentation. 
 
 7. Since now the presentation is the subjective and the being 
 is the objective, the task, when it is most accurately set, is to find 
 the point where the subject and object are immediately one. 
 
 8. By this gradual restriction of the task, it is now likewise as 
 
55 8 SCHELLING 
 
 good as solved. The unmediated identity of the subject and 
 object can exist only where the represented is likewise the repre- 
 senting, the perceived also the perceiving. But this identity of the 
 represented with the representing exists solely in self-conscious- 
 ness. The point sought is therefore found in self-consciousness. 
 
 Explanations. 
 
 a. If now we revert to the fundamental principle of identity 
 A=A, we discover that we can derive our principle directly from 
 it. In every identical proposition it was affirmed that the thought 
 is compared with itself ; this undoubtedly takes place by means 
 of an act of thought. The proposition A = A therefore presup- 
 poses a thought that becomes immediately an object to itself; 
 but an act of thought which becomes its own object exists only 
 in self-consciousness. It is certainly incomprehensible how one 
 can seriously derive from a mere proposition of logic something 
 real ; but it is truly comprehensible how one can find in it by re- 
 flection upon the act of thought something real, e. g. the cate- 
 gories from the logical function of judgment, and similarly the 
 act of self-consciousness from every identical proposition. 
 
 b. .That the subject and object of thought are one in self- 
 consciousness can become clear to every one solely by the act of 
 self-consciousness itself. It is necessary for this purpose that one 
 at the same tune perform this act, and in so doing reflect again 
 upon one's self. Self -consciousness is the act whereby the think- 
 ing itself immediately becomes the object, and conversely. This 
 act and none other is self -consciousness. Such act is an abso- 
 lutely free action, to which one can indeed be guided but cannot 
 be compelled. The readiness to perceive one's self in this act, 
 to discriminate one's self both as thought and as thinking, and 
 again to recognize one's self as identical in such discrimination, 
 is constantly presupposed in what follows. 
 
 c. Self-consciousness is an act, but by every act something is 
 accomplished for us. Every thought is an act, and every definite 
 thought is a definite act. By means of every such act there also 
 arises in us a definite conception. The conception is nothing but 
 the act of thinking itself, and abstracted from this act it is no- 
 
TRANSCENDENTAL IDEALISM 559 
 
 thing. By the act of self-consciousness there must likewise origi- 
 nate a conception for us ; and this is no other than the conception 
 of the Ego. While I regard myself as the object by means of self- 
 consciousness there originates in me the conception of the Ego ; 
 and conversely the conception of the Ego is only the conception 
 of self becoming its own object. 
 
 d. The conception of the Ego is accomplished by the act of 
 self-consciousness. Without the act, therefore, the Ego is no- 
 thing ; its entire reality depends solely upon this act. The Ego 
 can thus be conceived only as act, and it is otherwise nothing. 
 
 Whether the external object is nothing different from its con- 
 ception, whether also here conception and object are one, is a 
 question which is still to be decided. But that the conception 
 of the Ego, that is, the act whereby thought becomes its own 
 object, and the Ego itself (the object) are absolutely one, needs no 
 proof, since the Ego is clearly nothing apart from the act, and in 
 general exists only in this act. 
 
 Here, therefore, is that original identity of thought and of ob- 
 ject, of appearance and of being, which we sought, and which is 
 nowhere else met with. The Ego does not exist at all before that 
 act whereby the thought becomes its own object. It is therefore 
 nothing other than the thought becoming itself the object, and 
 consequently absolutely nothing apart from the thought. The 
 reason why so many fail to see, in case of the Ego, that its 
 being conceived is identical with its being originated has its 
 explanation solely in the fact, that they neither can perform the 
 act of self-consciousness with freedom, nor are able to reflect 
 upon what originates in this very act. As regards the first, it is to 
 be remarked, that we make a clear distinction between self-con- 
 sciousness as act, and mere empirical consciousness. What we 
 commonly term consciousness is merely something which goes 
 along with the representations of objects, something which main- 
 tains identity amid the change of representations. It is thus 
 purely of an empirical character, for indeed I am thereby con- 
 scious of myself, but only as of one having representations. The 
 act here spoken of is one, however, by which I am conscious of 
 myself, not as having this or that determination, but originally,* 
 
560 SCHELLING 
 
 and this consciousness, in contrast with the other, is called pure 
 consciousness, or self-consciousness KO.T' e^oxrjv- 
 
 The genesis of these two kinds of consciousness may be 
 made clearer in the following way. Let one abandon himself 
 wholly to the involuntary succession of representations, then, no 
 matter how manifold or different these may be, they will never- 
 theless appear as belonging to one identical subject. But if I 
 reflect upon this identity of the subject in the representations, 
 there originates for me the proposition 7 think. It is this / think 
 that accompanies all representations and maintains in them 
 the continuity of consciousness. If however one frees one's 
 self from every act of representation in order to become con- 
 scious of one's original self, there arises not the proposition 7 
 think, but the proposition 7 am, which is undoubtedly a higher 
 one. In the proposition 7 think there exists already the expres- 
 sion of a determination or affection of the Ego ; the proposition 
 7 am, on the contrary, is an infinite proposition, because it is 
 one which has no real predicate, but which, for that very reason, 
 may have an infinity of possible predicates. 
 
 e. The Ego is nothing distinct from the thought of it ; the thought 
 of the Ego and the Ego itself are absolutely one. The Ego, there- 
 fore, is absolutely nothing apart from the thought; it is therefore 
 als^no thing, no affair, but endlessly the non-objective. This is to 
 be understood in the following way. The Ego is indeed object, 
 but only for itself, and is thus not originally in the world of ob- 
 jects. It becomes an object only by the very fact that it makes 
 itself its own object. It becomes the object not of something 
 external, but always only of itself. 
 
 Everything that is not Ego is originally object, and for this 
 very reason is an object not to itself, but to something perceiving 
 outside of it. The original objective is always something known, 
 never a knower. The Ego is known only through its own self- 
 knowledge. Matter is called self -less for the very reason that it 
 has nothing innermost, and exists only as something perceived 
 in a foreign perception. 
 
 I . If the Ego is no thing, no affair, then one cannot ask concern- 
 ing any predicate of the Ego. It has none except this, that it is no 
 
TRANSCENDENTAL IDEALISM 561 
 
 thing. The character of the Ego consists in having no other 
 predicate except that of self-consciousness. 
 
 The same result can also be reached in other ways. 
 
 That which is the highest principle of knowledge cannot 
 have its ground of knowledge in something higher. Its princi- 
 pium essendi and cognoscendi, must therefore be one, and coin- 
 cide in one. 
 
 For this very reason the unconditioned can never be sought 
 in any one thing; for what is object, is originally also object of 
 knowledge ; whereas what is a principle of all knowledge cannot 
 become at all an object of knowledge, either originally or in 
 itself, except only through a special act of freedom. 
 
 The unconditioned can therefore never be sought in the world 
 of objects. (Therefore the purely objective, or matter, is for 
 natural science nothing original, but is for it even as much 
 appearance as it is for transcendental philosophy.) 
 
 Unconditioned is termed that which can by no means become 
 a thing, or an affair. The first task of philosophy can therefore 
 be thus expressed: to find something which absolutely cannot 
 be thought as thing. But of this character is only the Ego, and 
 conversely, the Ego is that which is in itself non-objective. 
 
 g. If now the Ego is absolutely no object, no thing, it appears 
 difficult to explain how in general a knowledge of it is possible, 
 or what kind of knowledge we have of it. 
 
 The Ego is pure act, pure doing, and, because it is the prin- 
 ciple of all knowledge, must be absolutely non-objective in know- 
 ledge. If it is, therefore, to become an act of knowledge, it can 
 become known only in a way entirely different from common 
 knowledge. 
 
 This knowledge must be : 
 
 (a) Absolutely free, because all other knowledge is not free. 
 It must, therefore, be a knowledge to which the way is not by 
 proofs, conclusions, and the mediation of concepts. It is there- 
 fore in general an intuition. 
 
 (6) It must also be a knowledge whose object is not independ- 
 ent of it, and is therefore a knowledge which is at the same time 
 productive of its object. It is an intuition which is altogether 
 
562 SCHELLING 
 
 freely productive, and in which the producing is one and the 
 same with the produced. 
 
 Such an intuition is termed intellectual intuition, in contrast 
 with the sensible intuition, which never appears as productive 
 of its object, and in which therefore the perceiving-itself is dis- 
 tinct from the perceived. 
 
 Such an intuition is the Ego, because through the knowledge 
 the Ego has of itself, the Ego itself (the object) first originates. 
 Since the Ego (as object) is none other than this very knowledge 
 of itself, the Ego originates solely by the fact that it knows itself. 
 The Ego itself is, therefore, a knowledge which at the same time 
 creates itself (as object). 
 
 The intellectual intuition is the organ of all transcendental 
 thinking. For the whole aim of transcendental thought is freely 
 to transform into its own object something which is otherwise 
 no object. It presupposes a faculty to produce and at the same 
 time to perceive certain functions of the soul, so that the pro- 
 ducing of the object and the perceiving are absolutely one. This 
 faculty, however, is precisely the faculty of intellectual intuition. 
 
 Transcendental philosophizing must therefore be constantly 
 accompanied by intellectual intuition. All pretence that this 
 philosophizing cannot be understood has its cause not in the 
 unintelligibility of it, but in the defect of the organ whereby it 
 must be comprehended. Apart from this intuition, philosophiz- 
 ing has itself no substratum that might cause and support 
 thought. This very intuition supplies the place of the objective 
 world in the transcendental thought, and, as it were, carries the 
 flight of speculation. The Ego itself is an object that exists by 
 virtue of the fact that it has knowledge of itself, that is, it is a 
 constant intellectual intuition. Since the sole object of tran- 
 scendental philosophy is this self-producing activity, the intel- 
 lectual intuition is for it precisely what space is for geometry. 
 Just as without intuition of space, geometry would be absolutely 
 incomprehensible, because all its constructions are only different 
 methods and ways of qualifying that intuition, so without the 
 intellectual intuition, all philosophy would be incomprehensible, 
 because all its conceptions are only different qualifications of 
 
TRANSCENDENTAL IDEALISM 563 
 
 that production which has itself for an object, that is, of the 
 intellectual intuition (cf. Fichte's "Einleitung in die Wissen- 
 schaftslehre " in the " Philosophisches Journal "). 
 
 No reason need be given why people have perceived something 
 mysterious in this intuition, some special sense feigned by a few, 
 except that some persons are really without it. This, however, 
 is no more strange than that they still entirely lack many an- 
 other sense whose reality is as little involved in doubt. 
 
 h. The Ego is nothing other than a producing which becomes 
 its own object, i. e. it is an intellectual intuition. But this in- 
 tellectual intuition is itself an absolutely free act. It can there- 
 fore not be demonstrated, but only demanded. The Ego itself 
 is solely this intuition ; the Ego therefore as principle of philoso- 
 phy is itself only something that is postulated. 
 
 Since the time that Reinhold made the scientific founding of 
 philosophy his aim, there has been much talk of a first funda- 
 mental proposition from which philosophy would have to pro- 
 ceed. By this one generally understood a theorem in which the 
 entire philosophy should be involved. But it is easily perceived 
 that transcendental philosophy can proceed from no theorem, 
 because it proceeds from the subjective, that is, from that which 
 can become objective only by a distinct act of freedom. A theo- 
 rem is a proposition which depends upon being. Transcenden- 
 tal philosophy, however, proceeds from no being, but from a free 
 act ; and this can only be. postulated. Every science that is not 
 empirical must by its first principle already exclude all empiri- 
 cism, that is, must presuppose its object as not already existing 
 but must create it. In this way, for example, geometry proceeds, 
 since it starts not from theorems but from postulates. It is 
 because the most primal construction in it is postulated, and is 
 left to the pupil to create, that he is at the very outset sent 
 back to self -construction. It is just the same with transcendental 
 philosophy. Unless one bring to it the transcendental method of 
 thought, one must find it incomprehensible. It is, therefore, 
 necessary that one place one's self at the outset through freedom 
 in that method of thought ; and this takes place by means of 
 the free act whereby the principle originates. If it be a fact that 
 
564. SCHELLING 
 
 transcendental philosophy does not presuppose its objects, it 
 certainly cannot presuppose its first object, the principle ; it can 
 postulate it only as one freely to be constructed. As the principle 
 is of its own construction, so are also all its remaining concepts ; 
 and the entire science has to do with its own free constructions. 
 
 If the principle of philosophy is a postulate, then the object 
 of this postulate must be the most primal construct for the in- 
 ner sense, i. e. must be the Ego, not in so far as it is determined 
 in this or that particular way, but the Ego in general, as pro- 
 duction of itself. Through and in this primal construct, it is 
 true, something definite is effected, just as always happens by 
 every definite act of the soul. But the product is surely nothing 
 without the construction; in fact it exists only in that it is 
 constructed; abstracted from the construction it exists as little 
 as the line of the geometer. The geometrical line also is nothing 
 existing, for the line on the board is, as we know, not the line 
 itself, but is recognized only as such because it is taken in con- 
 nection with the original intuition of the line itself. 
 
 What the Ego is, is for this reason just as little demonstrable 
 as what the line is : one can only describe the action by which it 
 originates. If the line could be demonstrated it would not need 
 to be postulated. It is just the same with that transcendental 
 line of the production which must be originally intuited in tran- 
 scendental philosophy, and from which all other constructions 
 of the science first proceed (cf. "Allgemeine Uebersicht der 
 philosophischen Literatur" in New Philos. Journal, 10. Hft). 
 
 i. What comes to us by the original act of intellectual intui- 
 tion can be expressed in a fundamental principle which one can 
 term the first fundamental principle of philosophy. Now the Ego 
 originates through the intellectual intuition in so far as it is its 
 own product, that is, is at the same time producing and produced. 
 This identity between the Ego in so far as it is the producing and 
 the Ego as produced is expressed in the proposition the 1 = 1. 
 This proposition, since it places opposites as equal, is by no means 
 an identical, but a synthetic proposition. 
 
 By means of the proposition 1 = 1, the proposition A=A is 
 therefore^ transformed into a synthetical proposition, and we 
 
TRANSCENDENTAL IDEALISM 565 
 
 have found the point where the identical knowledge springs im- 
 mediately from the synthetical, and the synthetical knowledge 
 from the identical. But at this point also is found (Chap. I) the 
 principle of all knowledge. In the proposition 1 = 1, therefore, 
 the principle of all knowledge must be expressed, because this 
 proposition is indeed the only possible one, that is at the same 
 time identical and synthetical. 
 
 The mere reflection upon the proposition A= A could have led 
 us to the same conclusion. The proposition A = A appears, to be 
 sure, identical ; it could, however, very well also have synthetical 
 significance, that is, if the one A were opposed to the other. One 
 would therefore have to substitute in the place of A, a conception 
 which expresses the original duplicity of identity, and vice versa. 
 
 Such a conception is that of an object which is at the same 
 time opposed to and on an equality with itself. But of such 
 character is only an object which in itself is both cause and 
 effect, producing and produced, subject and object. The con- 
 ception of an original identity in duplicity, and conversely, is 
 therefore solely the conception of a subject-object, and this oc- 
 curs originally only in self-consciousness. 
 
 Natural science sets out from nature as at once arbitrarily the 
 producing and the produced, in order to derive the individual 
 from that conception. The unmediated object of knowledge 
 is such an identity only in the unmediated self-consciousness, 
 in the highest potency of becoming its own object, in which the 
 transcendental philosopher at the outset places himself, not arbi- 
 trarily, but with freedom. The original duplicity in nature is itself 
 ultimately explained only by assuming nature to be intelligible. 
 
 k. The proposition 1=1 meets at the same time the second 
 demand which is made of the principle of knowledge, that it 
 establish at once both the form and the content of knowledge. For 
 the highest formal fundamental proposition A=A, is of course 
 only possible by the act which is expressed by the proposition 
 1 = 1, that is, by the act of thinking which becomes its own 
 object, and is identical with itself. The proposition 1 = 1 is 
 therefore so far from being conditioned by the fundamental 
 proposition of identity, that on the contrary this latter is con- 
 
5 66 SCHELLING 
 
 ditioned by the former. For if I were not I, then A could also 
 not be A, because the equality which is posited in that proposition 
 expresses after all only an equality between the subject which 
 judges and that in which A is posited as object, that is, an equal- 
 ity between the Ego as subject and object. 
 
 General Comments. 
 
 1. The contradiction which has been solved by the foregoing 
 deduction is the following : the science of knowledge can proceed 
 from nothing objective, since it begins precisely with the uni- 
 versal doubt in the reality of the objective. The unconditioned- 
 certain, therefore, exists for it only in the absolute non-objective 
 which also proves the non-objectivity of the identical proposi- 
 tions as the solely unconditioned-certain. But how the objective 
 could arise from this original non-objective would not be con- 
 ceivable, unless that non-objective were an Ego, that is, a prin- 
 ciple that becomes its own object. Only what is not originally 
 object, can make itself the object, and thereby become an object. 
 From this original duplicity in itself, every objective for the Ego 
 is evolved that comes into consciousness ; and it is that original 
 identity in duplicity which alone brings union and coherence 
 into all synthetic knowledge. 
 
 2. Some remarks may still be necessary on the use of lan- 
 guage in this philosophy. 
 
 Kant in his anthropology finds it remarkable that a new 
 world appears to spring up to the child as soon as it begins to 
 speak of itself as I. This is in fact very natural : it is the in- 
 tellectual world which reveals itself to him, since whatever can 
 say I to itself lifts itself thereby above the objective world, and 
 enters from a foreign intuition into its own. Philosophy must 
 undoubtedly proceed from that conception in which the entire 
 intellectuality is contained, and from which it is developed. 
 
 From this very fact one must see that in the conception of the 
 Ego there exists something higher than the mere expression of 
 individuality. It is the very act of self-consciousness indeed, 
 with which the consciousness of individuality makes its simul- 
 taneous appearance, but which itself contains nothing individ 
 
TRANSCENDENTAL IDEALISM 567 
 
 ual. Heretofore the discussion has been only of the Ego as the 
 mere act of self - consciousness ; and from it all individuality 
 must yet be derived. 
 
 Under the Ego as principle, the individual I is thought of just 
 as little as is the empirical I, the I which appears in empiri- 
 cal consciousness. The pure consciousness determined and re- 
 stricted in a different way yields the empirical consciousness. 
 The two, therefore, are separated merely by their restrictions. 
 Remove the restrictions of the empirical and you have the ab- 
 solute Ego, which is here treated. The pure self-consciousness 
 is an act which lies outside of all time and itself constitutes all 
 time ; the empirical consciousness is only one creating itself in 
 time, and in the succession of representations. 
 
 The question whether the Ego is a thing in itself, or a phe- 
 nomenon, is of itself contradictory. It is in general no thing, 
 neither thing in itself, nor phenomenon. 
 
 The dilemma which one may here bring forward in reply : 
 Everything must either be something or nothing, etc., rests upon 
 the ambiguity of the concept something. If the something in gen- 
 eral is intended to designate something real in contrast with the 
 merely imagined, then the Ego must indeed be something real, 
 since it is the principle of all reality. And just as clearly is it true 
 that because the Ego is principle of all reality, it cannot then be 
 real in the same sense as that to which belongs merely derived 
 reality. The reality which such objector regards as the true one, 
 namely that of things, is merely derived, and is only the reflec- 
 tion of that higher reality. The dilemma strictly viewed is thus 
 equivalent to saying: Everything is either a thing or nothing. 
 This is manifestly false, since there certainly exists a higher 
 conception than that of the thing, namely, that of the deed, or 
 of the activity. 
 
 This conception must indeed be higher than that of the thing, 
 since the things themselves are to be conceived only as modifi- 
 cations of an activity limited in different ways. The being of the 
 thing does not indeed consist in mere rest or inactivity. For 
 even all space-filling is only a degree of activity, and every thing 
 is only a determined degree of activity with which space is filled. 
 
5 68 SCHELLING 
 
 Since none of the predicates which attach to things belong 
 to the Ego, the paradox is thereby explained, that one cannot say 
 of the Ego, that it is. One is unable to predicate being of the 
 Ego, just because the Ego is being itself. The eternal act of self- 
 consciousness conceived as in no time, which we term Ego, is 
 what gives existence to all things, and which therefore needs no 
 other existence by which to be supported; but appears self- 
 carrying and self-supporting, objectively as the eternal becom- 
 ing, subjectively as the infinite producing. 
 
 3. Before we proceed to the setting up of the system itself, it 
 may be well to show how the principle can establish at the same 
 time both theoretical and practical philosophy. That it does this 
 is a necessary character of the principle, and is thus obvious. 
 
 That the principle should be at the same time the principle of 
 theoretical and practical philosophy, is impossible, unless it be 
 both theoretical and practical. Since now a theoretical principle 
 is a theorem, but a practical principle is a command, something 
 must be intermediate between the two. This is the postulate. 
 It borders on the practical philosophy because it is a pure 
 demand, and on the theoretical because it requires a purely 
 theoretical construction. What the postulate derives its compul- 
 sory power from is explained by the fact that it is allied to the 
 practical demands. The intellectual intuition is something that 
 one can demand and expect. Whoever has not such faculty at 
 least ought to have it. 
 
 4. What every one who has attentively followed us thus far 
 perceives for himself is that the beginning and the end of this 
 philosophy is freedom, the absolutely indemonstrable, that which 
 proves itself by itself. What in all other systems threatens the 
 destruction of freedom is in this system derived from itself. 
 Being, in this system, is only suspended freedom. In a system 
 which makes being the first and highest, not only must know- 
 ledge be a mere copy of an original being, but all freedom 
 must also be only a necessary deception, because one is igno- 
 rant of the principle whose movements constitute the apparent 
 manifestations of freedom. 
 
GEORG WILHELM FRIEDRICH HEGEL 
 
 (1770-1831) 
 
 THE LOGIC OF HEGEL 
 
 Translated from the German* by 
 WILLIAM WALLACE 
 
 CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION 
 
 i. PHILOSOPHY misses an advantage enjoyed by the other 
 sciences. It cannot like them rest the existence of its objects 
 on the natural admissions of consciousness, nor can it assume 
 that its method of cognition, either for starting or for cojyinuing, 
 is one already accepted. The objects of philosophy, it is true, 
 are upon the whole the same, as those of religion. In bd^the 
 object is Truth, in that supreme sense in which God and God 
 only is the Truth. Both in like manner go on to treat of the 
 finite worlds of Nature and the human Mind, with their relation 
 to each other and to their truth in God. Some acquaintance 
 with its objects, therefore, philosophy may and even must pre- 
 sume, that and a certain interest in them to boot, were it for no 
 other reason than this: that in point of time the mind makes 
 general images of objects, long before it makes notions of them, 
 and that it is only through these mental images, and by recourse 
 to them, that the thinking mind rises to know and comprehend 
 thinkingly. 
 
 But with the rise of this thinking study of things, it soon be- 
 comes evident that thought will be satisfied with nothing short 
 of showing the necessity of its facts, of demonstrating the exist- 
 ence of its objects, as well as their nature and qualities. Our 
 original acquaintance with them is thus discovered to be inade- 
 quate. We can assume nothing, and assert nothing dogmatically ; 
 
 * From the Encyclopaedic der philosophischen Wissenschaften im Grundrisse 
 (i. Thl. Die Logik), Heidelberg, 1817; 2. verm. Aufl. 1827. Reprinted here from 
 The Logic of Hegel, trans, by Wm. Wallace. 2d rev. ed., Oxford, Clarendon 
 Press, 1892. 
 
570 , HEGEL 
 
 nor can we accept the assertions and assumptions of others. 
 And yet we must make a beginning : and a beginning, as primary 
 and underived, makes an assumption, or rather is an assumption. 
 It seems as if it were impossible to make a beginning at all. 
 
 2. This thinking study oj things may serve, in a general way, 
 as a description of philosophy. But the description is too wide. 
 If it be correct to say, that thought makes the distinction between 
 man and the lower animals, then everything human is human, 
 for the sole and simple reason that it is due to the operation of 
 thought. Philosophy, on the other hand, is a peculiar mode of 
 thinking a mode in which thinking becomes knowledge, and 
 knowledge through notions. However great therefore may be 
 the identity and essential unity of the two modes of thought, 
 the philosophic mode gets to be different from the more general 
 thought,, which acts in all that is human, in all that gives hu- 
 manity its distinctive character. And this difference connects 
 itse]||^ith the fact that the strictly human and thought-induced 
 phenomena of consciousness do not originally appear in the 
 form of a thought, but as a feeling, a perception, or mental 
 image all of which aspects must be distinguished from the 
 form of thought proper. 
 
 n. The special conditions which call for the existence of 
 philosophy may be thus described. The mind or spirit, when it 
 is sentient or perceptive, finds its object in something sensuous ; 
 when it imagines, in a picture or image; when it wills, in an 
 aim or end. But in contrast to, or it may be only in distinction 
 from, these forms of its existence and of its objects, the mind 
 has also to gratify the cravings of its highest and most inward 
 life. That innermost self is thought. Thus the mind renders 
 thought its object. In the best meaning of the phrase, it comes 
 to itself ; for thought is its principle, and its very unadulterated 
 self. But while thus occupied, thought entangles itself in con- 
 tradictions, i. e. loses itself in the hard-and-fast non-identity 
 of its thoughts, and so, instead of reaching itself, is caught and 
 held in its counterpart. This result, to which honest but narrow 
 thinking leads the mere understanding, is resisted by the loftier 
 craving of which we have spoken. That craving expresses the 
 
THE LOGIC OF HEGEL 571 
 
 perseverance of thought, which continues true to itself, even in 
 this conscious loss of its native rest and independence, ''that it 
 may overcome" and work out in itself the solution of its own 
 contradictions. 
 
 To see that thought in its very nature is dialectical, and that, 
 as understanding, it must fall into contradiction, the negative 
 of itself, will form one of the main lessons of logic. When thought 
 grows hopeless of ever achieving, by its own means, the solution 
 of the contradiction which it has by its own action brought upon 
 itself, it turns back to those solutions of the question with which 
 the mind had learned to pacify itself in some of its other modes 
 and forms. Unfortunately, however, the retreat of thought has 
 led it, as Plato noticed even in his time, to a very uncalled-for 
 hatred of reason (misology); and it then takes up against its 
 own endeavours that hostile attitude of which an example is 
 seen in the doctrine that "immediate" knowledge, as it is called, 
 is the exclusive form in which we become cognisant of truth. 
 
 12. The rise of philosophy is due to these cravings of thought. 
 Its point of departure is Experience ; including under that name 
 both our immediate consciousness and the inductions from it. 
 Awakened, as it were, by this stimulus, thought is vitally charac- 
 terised by raising itself above the natural state of mind, above 
 the senses and inferences from the senses into its own unadul- 
 terated element, and by assuming, accordingly, at first a stand- 
 aloof and negative attitude towards the point from which it 
 started. Through this state of antagonism to the phenomena 
 of sense its first satisfaction is found in itself, in the Idea of the/ 
 universal essence of these phenomena: an Idea (the Absolute, 
 'or God) which may be more or less abstract. Meanwhile, on 
 the other hand, the sciences, based on experience, exert upon the 
 mind a stimulus to overcome the. form in which their varied 
 contents are presented, and to elevate these contents to the rank 
 of necessary truth. For the facts of science have the aspect of a 
 vast conglomerate, one thing coming side by side with another, 
 as if they were merely given and presented, as in short devoid 
 of all essential or necessary connexion. In consequence of this 
 stimulus thought is dragged out of its unrealised universality 
 
572 HEGEL 
 
 and its fancied or merely possible satisfaction, and impelled 
 onwards to a development from itself. On one hand this de- 
 velopment only means that thought incorporates the contents of 
 science, in all their speciality of detail as submitted. On the 
 other it makes these contents imitate the action of the original 
 creative thought, and present the aspect of a free evolution de- 
 termined by the logic of the fact alone. 
 
 15. Each of the parts of philosophy is a philosophical whole, 
 a circle rounded and complete in itself. In each of these parts, 
 however, the philosophical Idea is found hi a particular specifi- 
 cality or medium. The single circle, because it is a real totality, 
 bursts through the limits imposed by its special medium, and 
 gives rise to a wider circle. The whole of philosophy in this way 
 resembles a circle of circles. The Idea appears in each single 
 circle, but, at the same time, the whole Idea is constituted by 
 the system of these peculiar phases, and each is a necessary 
 member of the organisation. 
 
 17. It may seem as if philosophy, in order to start on its 
 course, had, like the rest of the sciences, to begin with a sub- 
 jective presupposition. The sciences postulate their respective 
 objects, such as space, number, or whatever it be ; and it might 
 be supposed that philosophy had also to postulate the existence 
 of thought. But the two cases are not exactly parallel. It is by 
 the free act of thought that it occupies a point of view, in which 
 it is for its own self, and thus gives itself an object of its own 
 production. Nor is this all. The very point of view, which origi- 
 nally is taken on its own evidence only, must in the course of the 
 science be converted to a result, the ultimate result in which 
 philosophy returns into itself and reaches the point with which 
 it began. In this manner philosophy exhibits the appearance 
 of a circle which closes with itself, and has no beginning in the 
 same way as the other sciences have. To speak of a beginning 
 of philosophy has a meaning only in relation to a person who 
 proposes to commence the study, and not in relation to the 
 science as science. The same thing may be thus expressed. The 
 notion of science the notion therefore with which we start - 
 which, for the very reason that it is initial, implies a separation 
 
THE LOGIC OF HEGEL 573 
 
 between the thought which is our object, and the subject philo- 
 sophising which is, as it were, external to the former, must be 
 grasped and comprehended by the science itself. This is in short 
 the one single aim, action, and goal of philosophy to arrive 
 at the notion of its notion, and thus secure its return and its 
 satisfaction. 
 
 1 8. As the whole science, and only the whole, can exhibit 
 what the Idea or system of reason is, it is impossible to give in 
 a preliminary way a general impression of a philosophy. Nor 
 can a division of philosophy into its parts be intelligible, except 
 in connexion with the system. A preliminary division, like the 
 limited conception from which it comes, can only be an antici- 
 pation. Here however it is premised that the Idea turns out to 
 be the thought which is completely identical with itself, and 
 not identical simply in the abstract, but also in its action of 
 setting itself over against itself, so as to gain a being of its own, 
 and yet of being in full possession of itself while it is in this 
 other. Thus philosophy is subdivided into three parts: 
 
 I. Logic, the science of the Idea in and for itself. 
 
 II. The Philosophy of Nature : the science of the Idea in its 
 otherness. 
 
 III. The Philosophy of Mind: the science of the Idea come 
 back to itself out of that otherness. 
 
 As observed in 15, the differences between the several philo- 
 sophical sciences are only aspects or specialisations of the one 
 Idea or system of reason, which and which alone is alike exhibited 
 in these different media. In Nature nothing else would have to 
 be discerned, except the Idea: but the Idea has here divested 
 itself of its proper being. In Mind, again, the Idea has asserted 
 a being of its own, and is on the way to become absolute. Every 
 such form in which the idea is expressed, is at the same time a 
 passing or fleeting stage : and hence each of these subdivisions 
 has not only to know its contents as an object which has being 
 for the time, but also in the same act to expound how these 
 contents pass into their higher circle. To represent the relation 
 between them as a division, therefore, leads to misconception; 
 for it co-ordinates the several parts or sciences one beside another, 
 
574 HEGEL 
 
 as if they had no innate development, but were, like so many 
 species, really and radically distinct. 
 
 CHAPTER II. PRELIMINARY NOTION 
 
 19. LOGIC is THE SCIENCE OF THE PURE IDEA; pure, that is, 
 because the Idea is in the abstract medium of Thought. 
 
 This definition, and the others which occur hi these intro- 
 ductory outlines, are derived from a survey of the whole system, 
 to which accordingly they are subsequent. The same remark 
 applies to all prefatory notions whatever about philosophy. 
 
 Logic might have been defined as the science of thought, and 
 of its laws and characteristic forms. But thought, as thought, 
 constitutes only the general medium, or qualifying circumstance, 
 which renders the Idea distinctively logical. If we identify the 
 Idea with thought, thought must not be taken in the sense of a 
 method or form, but in the sense of the self -developing totality 
 of its laws and peculiar terms. These laws are the work of 
 thought itself, and not a fact which it finds and must submit to. 
 
 From different points of view, Logic is either the hardest or 
 the easiest of the sciences. Logic is hard, because it has to deal 
 not with perceptions, nor, like geometry, with abstract represen- 
 tations of the senses, but with pure abstractions; and because 
 it demands a force and facility of withdrawing into pure thought, 
 of keeping firm hold on it, and of moving in such an element. 
 Logic is easy, because its facts are nothing but our own thought 
 and its familiar forms or terms : and these are the acme of sim- 
 plicity, the a b c of everything else. They are also what we are 
 best acquainted with: such as, "Is" and "Is not" : quality and 
 magnitude: being potential and being actual: one, many, and 
 so on. But such an acquaintance only adds to the difficulties of 
 the study ; for while, on the one hand, we naturally think it is 
 not worth our trouble to occupy ourselves any longer with things 
 so familiar, on the other hand, the problem is to become ac- 
 quainted with them in a new way, quite opposite to that in 
 which we know them already. 
 
 The utility of Logic is a matter which concerns its bearings 
 
THE LOGIC OF HEGEL 575 
 
 upon the student, and the training it may give for other purposes. 
 This logical training consists in the exercise in thinking which 
 the student has to go through (this science is the thinking of 
 thinking) : and in the fact that he stores his head with thoughts 
 in their native unalloyed character. It is true that Logic, being 
 the absolute form of truth, and another name for the very truth 
 itself, is something more than merely useful. Yet if what is no- 
 blest, most liberal and most independent is also most useful, 
 Logic has some claim to the latter character. Its utility must then 
 be estimated at another rate than exercise in thought for the sake 
 of the exercise. 
 
 24. With these explanations and qualifications, thoughts 
 may be termed Objective Thoughts, among which are also 
 to be included the forms which are more especially discussed in 
 the common logic, where they are usually treated as forms of 
 conscious thought only. Logic therefore coincides w^th Metaphys- 
 ics, the science of things set and held in thoughts, thoughts 
 accredited able to express the essential reality of things. 
 
 (2) Logic is the study of thought pure and simple, or of 
 the pure thought-forms. In the ordinary sense of the term, 
 by thought we generally represent to ourselves something more 
 than simple and unmixed thought; we mean some thought, 
 the material of which is from experience. Whereas in logic a 
 thought is understood to include nothing else but what depends 
 on thinking and what thinking has brought into existence. It is 
 in these circumstances that thoughts are pure thoughts. The 
 mind is then in its own home-element and therefore free : for 
 freedom means that the other thing with which you deal is a 
 second self so that you never leave your own ground but 
 give the law to yourself. In the impulses or appetites the begin- 
 ning is from something else, from something which we feel to be 
 external. In this case then we speak of dependence. For free- 
 dom it is necessary that we should feel no presence of something 
 else which is not ourselves. The natural man, whose motions 
 follow the rule only of his appetites, is not his own master. Be 
 he as self-willed as he may, the constituents of his will and 
 
576 HEGEL 
 
 opinion are not his own, and his freedom is merely formal. 
 But when we think, we renounce our selfish and particular 
 being, sink ourselves in the thing, allow thought to follow its 
 own course, and, if we add anything of our own, we think 
 ill. 
 
 If in pursuance of the foregoing remarks we consider Logic 
 to be the system of the pure types of thought, we find that the 
 other philosophical sciences, the Philosophy of Nature and the 
 Philosophy of Mind, take the place, as it were, of an Applied 
 Logic, and that Logic is the soul which animates them both. 
 Their problem in that case is only to recognise the logical forms 
 under the shapes they assume in Nature and Mind, shapes 
 which are only a particular mode of expression for the forms 
 of pure thought. If for instance we take the syllogism (not as it 
 was understood in the old formal logic, but at its real value), 
 we shall find it gives expression to the law that the particular is 
 the middle term which fuses together the extremes of the universal 
 and the singular. The syllogistic form is a universal for^m of 
 all things. Everything that exists is a particular, which couples 
 together the universal and the singular. But Nature is weak and 
 fails to exhibit the logical forms in their purity. Such a feeble 
 exemplification of the syllogism may be seen in the magnet. In 
 the middle or point of indifference of a magnet, its two poles, 
 however they may be distinguished, are brought into one. 
 Physics also teaches us to see the universal or essence in Nature : 
 and the only difference between it and the Philosophy of Nature 
 is that the latter brings before our mind the adequate forms of 
 the notion in the physical world. 
 
 It will now be understood that Logic is the all-animating 
 spirit of all the sciences, and its categories the spiritual hier- 
 archy. They are the heart and centre of things : and yet at the 
 same time they are always on our lips, and, apparently at least, 
 perfectly familiar objects. But things thus familiar are usually 
 the greatest strangers. Being, for example, is a category of pure 
 thought: but to make "Is" an object of investigation never 
 occurs to us. Common fancy puts the Absolute far away in a 
 world beyond. The Absolute is rather directly before us, so 
 
THE LOGIC OF HEGEL 577 
 
 present that so long as we think, we must, though without ex- 
 press consciousness of it, always carry it with us and always use 
 it. Language is the main depository of these types of thought ; 
 and one use of the grammatical instruction which children re- 
 ceive is unconsciously to turn their attention to distinctions of 
 thought. 
 
 To ask if a category is true or not, must sound strange to the 
 ordinary mind: for a category apparently becomes true only 
 when it is applied to a given object, and apart from this appli- 
 cation it would seem meaningless -to inquire into its truth. But 
 this is the very question on which everything turns. We must 
 however in the first place understand clearly what we mean by 
 Truth. In common life truth means the agreement of an object 
 with our conception of it. We thus pre-suppose an object to 
 which our conception must conform. In the philosophical sense 
 of the word, on the other hand, truth may be described, in general 
 abstract terms, as the agreptnpnt nf a thnnght-rnntpnt with fr- 
 _self._This meaning is quite different from the one given above. 
 At the same time the deeper and philosophical meaning of 
 truth can be partially traced even in the ordinary usage of lan- 
 guage. Thus we speak of a true friend; by which we mean a 
 friend whose manner of conduct accords with the notion of 
 friendship. In the same way we speak of a true work of Art. 
 Untrue in this sense means the same as bad, or self-discordant. 
 In this sense a bad state is an untrue state ; and evil and untruth 
 may be said to consist in the contradiction subsisting between 
 the function or notion and the existence of the object. Of such 
 a bad object we may form a correct representation, but the 
 import of such representation is inherently false. Of these cor- 
 rectnesses, which are at the same time untruths, we may have 
 many in our heads. God alone is the thorough harmony of 
 notion and reality. All finite things involve an untruth: they 
 have a notion and an existence, but their existence does not 
 meet the requirements of the notion. For this reason they must 
 perish, and then the incompatibility between their notion and 
 their existence becomes manifest. It is in the kind that the 
 
578 HEGEL 
 
 individual animal has its notion: and the kind liberates itself 
 from this individuality by death. 
 
 The study of truth, or as it is here explained to mean, con- 
 sistency, constitutes the proper problem of logic. In our every- 
 day mind we are never troubled with questions about the truth 
 of the forms of thought. We may also express the problem of 
 logic by saying that it examines the forms of thought touching 
 their capability to hold truth. And the question comes to this : 
 What are the forms of the infinite, and what are the forms of 
 the finite ? Usually no suspicion attaches to the finite forms of 
 thought ; they are allowed to pass unquestioned. But it is from 
 conforming to finite categories in thought and action that all 
 deception originates. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. LOGIC FURTHER DEFINED AND 
 
 DIVIDED 
 
 79. In point of form Logical doctrine has three sides: 
 (a) the Abstract side, or that of understanding ; (ft) the Dialecti- 
 cal, or that of negative reason : (y) the Speculative, or that of 
 positive reason. 
 
 These three sides do not make three parts of logic, but are 
 stages or " moments" in every logical entity, that is, of every 
 notion and truth whatever. They may all be put under the first 
 stage, that of understanding, and so kept isolated from each 
 other; but this would give an inadequate conception of them. 
 The statement of the dividing lines and the characteristic aspects 
 of logic is at this point no more than historical and anticipatory. 
 
 80. (a) Thought, as Understanding, sticks to fixity of charac- 
 ters and their distinctness from one another : every such limited 
 abstract it treats as having a subsistence and being of its own. 
 
 In our ordinary usage of the term thought and even notion, 
 we often have before our eyes nothing more than the operation 
 of Understanding. And no doubt thought is primarily an exer- 
 cise of Understanding : only it goes further, and the notion 
 is not a function of Understanding merely. The action of Under- 
 
THE LOGIC OF HEGEL 579 
 
 standing may be in general described as investing its subject- 
 matter with the form of universality. But this universal is an 
 abstract universal : that is to say, its opposition to the particular 
 is so rigorously maintained, that it is at the same time also re- 
 duced to the character of a particular again. In this separating 
 and abstracting attitude towards its objects, Understanding is 
 the reverse of immediate perception and sensation, which, as 
 such, keep completely to their native sphere of action in the 
 concrete. 
 
 It is by referring to this opposition of Understanding to sen- 
 sation or feeling that we must explain the frequent attacks 
 made upon thought for being hard and narrow, and for leading, 
 if consistently developed, to ruinous and pernicious results. 
 The answer to these charges, in so far as they are warranted 
 by their facts, is, that they do not touch thinking in general, 
 certainly not the thinking of Reason, but only the exercise of 
 Understanding. It must be added however, that the merit and 
 rights of the mere Understanding should unhesitatingly be ad- 
 mitted. And that merit lies in the fact, that apart from Under- 
 standing there is no fixity or accuracy in the region either of 
 theory or of practice. 
 
 81. (/2) In the Dialectical stage these finite characterisations 
 or formulae supersede themselves, and pass into their opposites. 
 
 (I) But when the Dialectical principle is employed by the un- 
 derstanding separately and independently, especially as seen 
 in its application to philosophical theories, Dialectic becomes 
 Scepticism; in which the result that ensues from its action is 
 presented as a mere negation. 
 
 (II) It is customary to treat Dialectic as an adventitious art, 
 which for very wantonness introduces confusion and a mere 
 semblance of contradiction into definite notions. And in that 
 light, the semblance is the nonentity, while the true reality is 
 supposed to belong to the original dicta of understanding. 
 Often, indeed, Dialectic is nothing more than a subjective see- 
 saw of arguments pro and con, where the absence of sterling 
 thought is disguised by the subtlety which gives birth to such 
 
580 HEGEL 
 
 arguments. But in its true and proper character, Dialectic is the 
 very nature and essence of everything predicated by mere under- 
 standing, the law of things and of the finite as a whole. 
 Dialectic is different from " Reflection." In the first instance, 
 Reflection is that movement out beyond the isolated predicate 
 of a thing which gives it some reference, and brings out its 
 relativity, while still in other respects leaving it its isolated 
 validity. But by Dialectic is meant the in- dwelling tendency 
 outwards by which the one-sidedness and limitation of the 
 predicates of understanding is seen in its true light, and shown 
 to be the negation of them. For anything to be finite is just 
 to suppress itself and put itself aside. Thus understood the 
 Dialectical principle constitutes the life and soul of scientific 
 progress, the dynamic which alone gives immanent connexion 
 and necessity to the body of science; and, in a word, is seen 
 to constitute the real and true, as opposed to the external, exal- 
 tation above the finite. 
 
 (i) . . . Dialectic, it may be added, is no novelty in philo- 
 sophy. Among the ancients Plato is termed the inventor of 
 Dialectic ; and his right to the name rests on the fact, that the 
 Platonic philosophy first gave the free scientific, and thus at 
 the same time the objective, form to Dialectic. Socrates, as we 
 should expect from the general character of his philosophising, 
 has the dialectical element in a predominantly subjective shape, 
 that of Irony. He used to turn his Dialectic, first against ordi- 
 nary consciousness, and then especially against the Sophists. In 
 his conversations he used to simulate the wish for some clearer 
 knowledge about the subject under discussion, and after putting 
 all sorts of questions with that intent, he drew on those with 
 whom he conversed to the opposite of what their first impres- 
 sions had pronounced correct. If, for instance, the Sophists 
 claimed to be teachers, Socrates by a series of questions forced 
 the Sophist Protagoras to confess that all learning is only recol- 
 lection. In his more strictly scientific dialogues Plato employs 
 the dialectical method to show the finitude of all hard and fast 
 terms of understanding. Thus in the Parmenides he deduces 
 
THE LOGIC OF HEGEL 581 
 
 the many from the one, and shows nevertheless that the many 
 cannot but define itself as the one. In this grand style did Plato 
 treat Dialectic. In modern times it was, more than any other, 
 Kant who resuscitated the name of Dialectic, and restored it to 
 its post of honour. He did it, as we have seen ( 48), by .working 
 out the Antinomies of the reason. The problem of these Anti- 
 nomies is no mere subjective piece of work oscillating between 
 one set of grounds and another; it really serves to show that 
 every abstract proposition of understanding, taken precisely as 
 it is given, naturally veers round into its opposite. 
 
 82. (y) The Speculative stage, or stage of Positive Reason, 
 apprehends the unity of terms (propositions) hi their opposition, 
 - the affirmative, which is involved in their disintegration and 
 in their transition. 
 
 (i) The result of Dialectic is positive, because it has a definite 
 content, or because its result is not empty and abstract nothing, 
 but the negation of certain specific propositions which are con- 
 tained in the result, for the very reason that it is a resultant 
 and not an immediate nothing. (2) It follows from this that 
 the "reason" result, though it be only a thought and abstract, is 
 still a concrete, being not a plain formal unity, but a unity of 
 distinct propositions. Bare abstractions or formal thoughts are 
 therefore no business of philosophy, which has to deal only with 
 concrete thoughts. (3) The logic of mere Understanding is 
 involved in Speculative logic, and can at will be elicited from 
 it, by the simple process of omitting the dialectical and "reason- 
 able" element. When that is done, it becomes what the common 
 logic is, a descriptive collection of sundry thought-forms and 
 rules which, finite though they are, are taken to be something 
 infinite. 
 
 If we consider only what it contains, and not how it contains 
 it, the true reason- world, so far from being the exclusive property 
 of philosophy, is the right of every human being, on whatever 
 grade of culture or mental growth he may stand; which would 
 justify man's ancient title of rational being. The general mode 
 by which experience first makes us aware of the reasonable- 
 
582 HEGEL 
 
 order of things is by accepted and unreasoned belief; and the 
 character of the rational, as already noted ( 45), is to be uncon- 
 ditioned, and thus to be self-contained, self-determining. In 
 this sense man above all things becomes aware of the reasonable 
 order, when he knows of God, and knows him to be the com- 
 pletely self-determined. Similarly, the consciousness a citizen 
 has of his country and its laws is a perception of the reason- 
 world, so long as he looks up to them as unconditioned and 
 likewise universal powers, to which he must subject his individ- 
 ual will. And in the same sense, the knowledge and will of the 
 child is rational, when he knows his parents' will, and wills it. 
 
 Now, to turn these rational (of course positively-rational) 
 realities into speculative principles, the only thing needed is 
 that they be thought. The expression "Speculation" in com- 
 mon life is often used with a very vague and at the same tune 
 secondary sense, as when we speak of a matrimonial or a com- 
 mercial speculation. By this we only mean two things: first, 
 that what is immediately at hand has to be passed and left be- 
 hind ; and secondly, that the subject-matter of such speculations, 
 though in the first place only subjective, must not remain so, but 
 be realised or translated into objectivity. 
 
 83. Logic is subdivided into three parts : 
 
 I. The Doctrine of Being: 
 
 II. The Doctrine of Essence : 
 
 III. The Doctrine of Notion and Idea. 
 That is, into the Theory of Thought : 
 
 I. In its immediacy : the notion implicit and in germ. 
 
 II. In its reflection and mediation: the being-for-self and 
 show of the notion. 
 
 III. In its return into itself, and its developed abiding by 
 itself: the notion in and for itself. 
 
 The division of Logic now given, as well as the whole of the 
 previous discussion on the nature of thought, is anticipatory: 
 and the justification, or proof of it, can only result from the 
 detailed treatment of thought itself. For in philosophy, to prove 
 means to show how the subject by and from itself makes itself 
 what it is. The relation hi which these three leading grades of 
 
THE LOGIC OF HEGEL 583 
 
 thought, or of the logical Idea, stand to each other must be 
 conceived as follows. Truth comes only with the notion: or, 
 more precisely, the notion is the truth of being and essence, both 
 of which, when separately maintained in their isolation, cannot 
 but be untrue, the former because it is exclusively immediate, 
 and the latter because it is exclusively mediate. Why then, it 
 may be asked, begin with the false and not at once with the true ? 
 To which we answer that truth, to deserve the name, must 
 authenticate its own truth: which authentication, here within 
 the sphere of logic, is given when the notion demonstrates itself 
 to be what is mediated by and with itself, and thus at the same 
 time to be truly immediate. This relation between the three 
 stages of the logical Idea appears in a real and concrete shape 
 thus : God, who is the truth, is known by us in his truth, that is, 
 as absolute spirit, only in so far as we at the same time recognise 
 that the world which He created, nature and the finite spirit, are, 
 in their difference from God, untrue. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. THE DOCTRINE OF BEING 
 
 84. Being is the notion implicit only : its special forms have the 
 predicate "is"; when they are distinguished they are each of 
 them an "other" : and the shape which dialectic takes in them, 
 i. e. their further specialisation, is a passing over into another. 
 This further determination, or specialisation, is at once a forth- 
 putting and in that way a disengaging of the notion implicit in 
 being; and at the same time the withdrawing of being inwards, 
 its sinking deeper into itself. Thus the explication of the notion 
 in the sphere of being does two things : it brings out the totality 
 of being, and it abolishes the immediacy of being, or the form of 
 being as such. 
 
 A. QUALITY 
 
 (a) Being. 
 
 86. Pure BEING makes the beginning : because it is on one 
 hand pure thought, and on the other immediacy itself, simple 
 
584 HEGEL 
 
 and indeterminate ; and the first beginning cannot be mediated 
 by anything, or be further determined. 
 
 All doubts and admonitions, which might be brought against 
 beginning the science with abstract empty being, will disappear, 
 if we only perceive what a beginning naturally implies. It is 
 possible to define being as "1=1," "Absolute Indifference" or 
 Identity, and so on. Where it is felt necessary to begin either 
 with what is absolutely certain, i. e. the certainty of one's self, 
 or with a definition or intuition of the absolute truth, these and 
 other forms of the kind may be looked on as if they must be the 
 first. But each of these forms contains a mediation, and hence 
 cannot be the real first : for all mediation implies advance made 
 from a first on to a second, and proceeding from something 
 different. If 1=1, or even the intellectual intuition, are really 
 taken to mean no more than the first, they are in this mere im- 
 mediacy identical with being: while conversely, pure being, if 
 abstract no longer, but including in it mediation, is pure thought 
 or intuition. 
 
 If we enunciate Being as a predicate of the Absolute, we get the 
 first definition of the latter. The Absolute is Being. This is (in 
 thought) the absolutely initial definition, the most abstract and 
 stinted. It is the definition given by the Eleatics, but at the same 
 time is also the well-known definition of God as the sum of all 
 realities. It means, in short, that we are to set aside that limitation 
 which is in every reality, so that God shall be only the real in all 
 reality, the superlatively real. 
 
 (2) ... It is sufficient to mention here, that logic begins where 
 the proper history of philosophy begins. Philosophy began in 
 the Eleatic school, especially with Parmenides. Parmenides, who 
 conceives the absolute as Being, says that "Being alone is and 
 nothing is not." Such was the true starting-point of philosophy, 
 which is always knowledge by thought : and here for the first 
 Jime we find pure-thought seized and made an object to itself. 
 
 Men indeed thought 'from the beginning (for thus only were 
 they distinguished from the animals). But thousands of years 
 had to elapse before they came to apprehend thought in its 
 
THE LOGIC OF HEGEL 585 
 
 purity, and to see in it the truly objective. The Eleatics are 
 celebrated as daring thinkers. But this nominal admiration is 
 often accompanied by the remark that they went too far, when 
 they made Being alone true, and denied the truth of every other 
 object of consciousness. We must go further than mere Being, 
 it is true : and yet it is absurd to speak of the other contents of our 
 consciousness as somewhat as it were outside and beside Being, 
 or to say that there are other things, as well as Being. The true 
 state of the case is rather as follows. Being, as Being, is nothing 
 fixed or ultimate : it yields to dialectic and sinks into its opposite, 
 which, also taken immediately, is Nothing. After all, the point 
 is, that Being is the first pure Thought ; whatever else you may 
 begin with (the 1=1, the absolute indifference, or God himself), 
 you begin with a figure of materialised conception, not a product 
 of thought ; and that, so far as its thought-content is concerned, 
 such beginning is merely Being. 
 
 87. But this mere Being, as it is mere abstraction, is therefore 
 the absolutely negative : which, in a similarly immediate aspect, 
 is just NOTHING. 
 
 (i) Hence was derived the second definition of the Absolute; 
 the Absolute is the Nought. In fact this definition is implied in 
 saying that the thing-in-itself is the indeterminate, utterly with- 
 out form and so without content, or in saying that God is only 
 the supreme Being and nothing more ; for this is really declaring 
 him to be the same negativity as above. The Nothing which the 
 Buddhists make the universal principle, as well as the final aim 
 and goal of everything, is the same abstraction. 
 
 The distinction between Being and Nought is, in the first 
 place, only implicit, arid not yet actually made : they only 
 ought to be distinguished. A distinction of course implies two 
 things, and that one of them possesses an attribute which is not 
 found in the other. Being however is an absolute absence of 
 attributes, and so is Nought. Hence the distinction between 
 the two is only meant to be; it is a quite nominal distinction, 
 which is at the same time no distinction. In all other cases of 
 difference there is some common point which comprehends both 
 
586 HEGEL 
 
 things. Suppose e. g. we speak of two different species: the 
 genus forms a common ground for both. Both in the case of 
 mere Being and Nothing, distinction is without a bottom to 
 stand upon : hence there can be no distinction, both determina- 
 tions being the same bottomlessness. If it be replied that Being 
 and Nothing are both of them thoughts, so that thought may be 
 reckoned common ground, the objector forgets that Being is not 
 a particular or definite thought, and hence, being quite inde- 
 terminate, is a thought not to be distinguished from Nothing. 
 It is natural too for us to represent Being as absolute riches, and 
 Nothing as absolute poverty. But if when we view the whole 
 world we can only say that everything is, and nothing more, we 
 are neglecting all speciality and, instead of absolute plenitude, 
 .we have absolute emptiness. The same stricture is applicable 
 to those who define God to be mere Being; a definition not a 
 whit better than that of the Buddhists, who make God to be 
 Nought, and who from that principle draw the further conclusion 
 that self-annihilation is the means by which man becomes God. 
 88. Nothing, if it be thus immediate and equal to itself, is 
 also conversely the same as Being is. The truth of Being and of 
 Nothing is accordingly the unity of the two: and this unity is 
 BECOMING. 
 
 (3) It may perhaps be said that nobody can form a notion 
 of the unity of Being and Nought. As for that, the notion of the 
 unity is stated in the sections preceding, and that is all : appre- 
 hend that, and you have comprehended this unity. What the 
 objector really means by comprehension by a notion is , 
 more than his language properly implies : he wants a richer and 
 more complex state of mind, a pictorial conception which will 
 propound the notion as a concrete case and one more familiar 
 to the ordinary operations of thought. And so long as incom- 
 prehensibility means only the want of habituation for the effort 
 needed to grasp and abstract thought, free from all sensuous 
 admixture, and to seize a speculative truth, the reply to the 
 criticism is, that philosophical knowledge is undoubtedly distinct 
 in kind from the mode of knowledge best known in common 
 
THE LOGIC OF HEGEL 587 
 
 life, as well as from that which reigns in the other sciences. But 
 if to have no notion merely means that we cannot represent in 
 imagination the oneness of Being and Nought, the statement is 
 far from being true ; for every one has countless ways of envis- 
 aging this unity. To say that we have no such conception can 
 only mean, that in none of these images do we recognise the no- 
 tion in question, and that we are not aware that they exemplify it. 
 The readiest example of it is Becoming. Every one has a mental 
 idea of Becoming, and will even allow that it is one idea : he will 
 further allow that, when it is analysed, it involves the attribute 
 of Being, and also what is the very reverse of Being, viz. Nothing : 
 and that these two attributes lie undivided in the one idea : so that 
 Becoming is the unity of Being and Nothing. Another toler- 
 ably plain example is a Beginning. In its beginning, the thing is 
 not yet, but it is more than merely nothing, for its Being is already 
 in the Beginning. Beginning is itself a case of Becoming; only 
 the former term is employed with an eye to the further advance. 
 If we were to adapt logic to the more usual method of the 
 sciences, we might start with the representation of a Beginning 
 as abstractly thought, or with Beginning as such, and then 
 analyse this representation ; and perhaps people would more 
 readily admit, as a result of this analysis, that Being and Nothing 
 present themselves as undivided in unity. 
 
 As the first concrete thought-term, Becoming is the first ade- 
 quate vehicle of truth. In the history of philosophy, this stage 
 of the logical Idea finds its analogue in the system of Heraclitus. 
 When Heraclitus says, All is flowing (Travra pet), he enunciates 
 Becoming as the fundamental feature of all existence, whereas 
 the Eleatics, as already remarked, saw the only truth in Being, 
 rigid processless Being. Glancing at the principle of the Eleatics, 
 Heraclitus then goes on to say : Being no more is than not-Being 
 (ovSev /xaAAoi/ TO ov rov JJLT] ovros ecrrc) : a statement expressing the 
 negativity of abstract Being, and its identity with not-Being, 
 as made explicit in Becoming: both abstractions being alike 
 untenable. This may be looked at as an instance of the real 
 refutation of one system by another. To refute a philosophy is 
 
5 88 HEGEL 
 
 to exhibit the dialectical movement in its principle, and thus 
 reduce it to a constituent member of a higher concrete form of 
 the Idea. Even Becoming however, taken at its best on its own 
 ground, is an extremely poor term: it needs to grow in depth 
 and weight of meaning. Such deepened force we find e. g. in 
 Life. Life is a Becoming ; but that is not enough to exhaust the 
 notion of life. A still higher form is found in Mind. Here too 
 is Becoming, but richer and more intensive than mere logical 
 Becoming. The elements, whose unity constitutes mind, are not 
 the bare abstracts of Being and of Nought, but the system of 
 the logical Idea and of Nature. 
 
 B. QUANTITY 
 
 (a) Pure Quantity. 
 
 99. QUANTITY is pure being, where the mode or character is 
 no longer taken as one with the being itself, but explicitly put 
 as superseded or indifferent. 
 
 Quantity, of course, is a stage of the Idea : and as such it must 
 have its due, first as a logical category, and then in the world of 
 objects, natural as well as spiritual. Still even so, there soon 
 emerges the different importance attaching to the category of 
 quantity according as its objects belong to the natural or to the 
 spiritual world. For in Nature, where the form of the Idea is 
 to be other than, and at the same time outside, itself, greater 
 importance is for that very reason attached to quantity than in 
 the spiritual world, the world of free inwardness. No doubt we 
 regard even spiritual facts under a quantitative point of view; 
 but it is at once apparent that in speaking of God as a Trinity, 
 the number three has by no means the same prominence, as when 
 we consider the three dimensions of space or the three sides of a 
 triangle ; the fundamental feature of which last is just to be a 
 surface bounded by three lines. Even inside the realm of Nature 
 we find the same distinction of greater or less importance of 
 quantitative features. In the inorganic world, Quantity plays, 
 so to say, a more prominent part than in the organic. Even in 
 
THE LOGIC OF HEGEL 589 
 
 organic nature when we distinguish mechanical functions from 
 what are called chemical, and in the narrower sense, physical, 
 there is the same difference. Mechanics is of all branches of 
 science, confessedly, that in which the aid of mathematics can 
 be least dispensed with, where indeed we cannot take one 
 step without them. On that account mechanics is regarded next 
 to mathematics as the science par excellence ; which leads us to 
 repeat the remark about the coincidence of the materialist with 
 the exclusively mathematical point of view. After all that has 
 been said, we cannot but hold it, in the interest of exact and 
 thorough knowledge, one of the most hurtful prejudices, to seek 
 all distinction and determinateness of objects merely in quantita- 
 tive considerations. Mind to be sure is more than Nature and 
 the animal is more than the plant : but we know very little of 
 these objects and the distinction between them, if a more and 
 less is enough for us, and if we do not proceed to comprehend 
 them in their peculiar, that is their qualitative character. 
 
 (b) Quantum (How Much). 
 
 101. Quantity, essentially invested with the exclusionist 
 character which it involves, is QUANTUM (or How Much) : i. e. 
 limited quantity. 
 
 Quantum is, as it were, the determinate Being of quantity: 
 whereas mere quantity corresponds to abstract Being, and the 
 Degree, which is next to be considered, corresponds to Being- 
 for-self. As for the details of the advance from mere quantity 
 to quantum, it is founded on this : that whilst in mere quantity 
 the distinction, as a distinction of continuity and discreteness, is 
 at first only implicit, in a quantum 'the distinction is actually 
 made, so that quantity in general now appears as distinguished 
 or limited. But in this way the quantum breaks up at the same 
 tune into an indefinite multitude of Quanta or definite magni- 
 tudes. Each of these definite magnitudes, as distinguished from 
 the others, forms a unity, while on the other hand, viewed per se, 
 it is a many. And, when that is done, the quantum is described 
 as Number. 
 
590 HEGEL 
 
 (c) Degree. 
 
 103. The limit (in a quantum) is identical with the whole of 
 the quantum itself. As in itselj multiple, the limit is Exten- 
 sive magnitude; as in itself simple determinateness (qualitative 
 simplicity), it is Intensive magnitude or DEGREE. 
 
 104. In Degree the notion of quantum is explicitly put. It is 
 magnitude as indifferent on its own account and simple : but in 
 such a way that the character (or modal being) which makes 
 it a quantum lies quite outside it in other magnitudes. In this 
 contradiction, where the independent indifferent limit is absolute 
 externality, the INFINITE QUANTITATIVE PROGRESSION is made 
 explicit an immediacy which immediately veers round into 
 its counterpart, into mediation (the passing beyond and over 
 the quantum just laid down), and vice versa. 
 
 Number is a thought, but thought in its complete self-exter- 
 nalisation. Because it is a thought, it does not belong to per- 
 ception: but it is a thought which is characterised by the ex- 
 ternality of perception. Not only therefore may the quantum 
 be increased or diminished without end: the very notion of 
 quantum is thus to push out and out beyond itself. The infinite 
 quantitative progression is only the meaningless repetition of 
 one and the same contradiction, which attaches to the quantum, 
 both generally and, when explicitly invested with its special 
 character, as degree. Touching the futility of enunciating this 
 contradiction in the form of infinite progression, Zeno, as quoted 
 by Aristotle, rightly says, "It is the same to say a thing once, 
 and to say it for ever." 
 
 (i) If we follow the usual definition of the mathematicians, 
 given in 99, and say that magnitude is what can be increased 
 or diminished, there may be nothing to urge against the correct- 
 ness of the perception on which it is founded ; but the question 
 remains, how we come to assume such a capacity of increase or 
 diminution. If we simply appeal for an answer to experience, we 
 try an unsatisfactory course; because apart from the fact that 
 we should merely have a material image of magnitude, and not 
 
THE LOGIC OF HEGEL 591 
 
 the thought of it, magnitude would come out as a bare possi- 
 bility (of increasing or diminishing) and we should have ho 
 key to the necessity for its exhibiting this behaviour. In the way 
 of our logical evolution, on the contrary, quantity is obviously a 
 grade in the process of self -determining thought'; and it has 
 been shown that it lies in the very notion of quantity to shoot 
 out beyond itself. In that way, the increase or diminution (of 
 which we have heard) is not merely possible, but necessary. 
 
 (2) The quantitative infinite progression is what the reflective 
 understanding usually relies upon when it is engaged with the 
 general question of Infinity. The same thing however holds 
 good of this progression, as was already remarked on the occasion 
 of the qualitatively infinite progression. As was then said, it is 
 not the expression of a true, but of a wrong infinity ; it never gets 
 further than a bare "ought," and thus really remains within the 
 limits of finitude. The quantitative form of this infinite pro- 
 gression, which Spinoza rightly calls a mere imaginary infinity 
 (infinitum imagination/is), is an image often employed by poets, 
 such as Haller and Klopstock, to depict the infinity, not of 
 Nature merely, but even of God himself. Thus we find Haller, 
 in a famous description of God's infinity, saying: 
 
 Ich haufe ungeheure Zahlen, 
 
 Gebirge Millionen auf, 
 
 Ich setze Zeit auf Zeit 
 
 Und Welt auf Welt zu Hauf, 
 
 Und wenn ich von der grausen Hoh* 
 
 Mit Schwindel wieder nach Dir seh: 
 
 1st alle Macht der Zahl, 
 
 Vermehrt zu Tausendmal, 
 
 Noch nicht ein Theil von Dir. 1 
 
 Here then we meet, in the first place, that continual extrusion 
 of quantity, and especially of number, beyond itself, which 
 Kant describes as "eery." The only really "eery" thing about 
 it is the wearisomeness of ever fixing, and anon unfixing a limit, 
 
 1 I heap up monstrous numbers, mountains of millions; I pile time upon time, 
 and world on the top of world; and when from the awful height I cast a dizzy 
 look towards Thee, all the power of number, multiplied a thousand times, is not 
 yet one part of Thee. 
 
592 HEGEL 
 
 without advancing a single step. The same poet, however, well 
 adds to that description of false infinity the closing line : 
 
 Ich zieh sie ab, und Du liegst ganz vor mir. 1 
 
 Which means, that the true infinite is more than a mere world 
 beyond the finite, and that we, in order to become conscious 
 of it, must renounce that progressus in infinitum. 
 
 C. MEASURE 
 
 107. Measure is the qualitative quantum, in the first place 
 as immediate, a quantum, to which a determinate being or 
 a quality is attached. 
 
 Measure, where quality and quantity are in one, is thus the 
 completion of Being. Being, as we first apprehend it, is some- 
 thing utterly abstract and characterless : but it is the very essence 
 of Being to characterise itself, and its complete characterisation 
 is reached in Measure. Measure, like the other stages of Being, 
 may serve as a definition of the Absolute : God, it has been said, 
 is the Measure of all things. It is this idea which forms the 
 ground-note of many of the ancient Hebrew hymns, in which 
 the glorification of God tends in the main to show that He has 
 appointed to everything its bound : to the sea and the solid land, 
 to the rivers and mountains; and also to the various kinds of 
 plants and animals. To the religious sense of the Greeks the 
 divinity of measure, especially in respect of social ethics, was re- 
 presented by Nemesis. That conception implies a general theory 
 that all human things, riches, honour, and power, as well as joy 
 and pain, have their definite measure, the transgression of which 
 brings ruin and destruction. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. THE DOCTRINE OF ESSENCE 
 
 112. The terms in ESSENCE are always mere pairs of correla- 
 tives, and not yet absolutely reflected in themselves: hence in 
 essence the actual unity of the notion is not realised, but only 
 
 1 These I remove, and Thou liest all before me. 
 
THE LOGIC OF HEGEL 593 
 
 postulated by reflection. Essence, which is Being coming 
 into mediation with itself through the negativity of itself is 
 self-relatedness, only in so far as it is relation to an Other, - 
 this Other however coming to view at first not as something 
 which is, but as postulated and hypothetised. Being has not 
 vanished : but, firstly, Essence, as simple self-relation, is Being, 
 and secondly, as regards its one-sided characteristic of imme- 
 diacy, Being is deposed to a mere negative, to a seeming or 
 reflected light Essence accordingly is Being thus reflecting 
 light into itself. / 
 
 The Absolute is the Essence. This is the same definition as 
 the previous one that the Absolute is Being, in so far as Being 
 likewise is simple self-relation. But it is at the same time higher, 
 because Essence is Being that has gone into itself : that is to say, 
 the simple self-relation (in Being) is expressly put as negation 
 of the negative, as immanent self -mediation. Unfortunately 
 when the Absolute is denned to be the Essence, the negativity 
 which this implies is often taken only to mean the withdrawal 
 of all determinate predicates. This negative action of withdrawal 
 or abstraction thus falls outside of the Essence which is thus 
 left as a mere result apart from its premisses, the caput 
 mortuum of abstraction. But as this negativity, instead of being 
 external to Being, is its own dialectic, the truth of the latter, 
 viz. Essence, will be Being as retired within itself, immanent 
 Being. That reflection, or light thrown into itself, constitutes 
 the distinction between Essence and immediate Being, and is 
 the peculiar characteristic of Essence itself. 
 
 Any mention of Essence implies that we distinguish it from 
 Being : the latter is immediate, and, compared with the Essence, 
 we look upon it as mere seeming. But this seeming is not an 
 utter nonentity and nothing at all, but Being superseded and 
 put by. The point of view given by the Essence is in general 
 the standpoint of ''Reflection." This word "reflection" is origi- 
 nally applied, when a ray of light in a straight line impinging 
 upon the surface of a mirror is thrown back from it. In this 
 phenomenon we have two things, first an immediate fact 
 which is, and secondly the deputed, derivated, or transmitted 
 
594 HEGEL 
 
 phase of the same. Something of this sort takes place when 
 we reflect, or think upon an object; for here we want to know 
 the object, not in its immediacy, but as derivative or mediated. 
 The 'problem or aim of philosophy is often represented as the 
 ascertainment of the essence of things: a phrase which only 
 means that things instead of being left in their immediacy, must 
 be shown to be mediated by, or based upon, something else. 
 The immediate Being of things is thus conceived under the 
 magic of a rind or curtain behind which the Essence lies hidden. 
 
 A. ESSENCE AS GROUND OF EXISTENCE 
 (a) The pure principles or categories of Reflection. 
 
 (a) IDENTITY 
 
 115. The Essence lights up in itself or is mere reflection: 
 and therefore is only self-relation, not as immediate but as re- 
 flected. And that reflex relation is SELF-IDENTITY. 
 
 This Identity becomes an Identity in form only, or of the 
 understanding, if it be held hard and fast, quite aloof from 
 difference. Or, rather, abstraction is the imposition of this 
 Identity of form, the transformation of something inherently 
 concrete into this form of elementary simplicity. And this may 
 be done in two ways. Either we may neglect a part of the mul- 
 tiple features which are found in the concrete thing (by what is 
 called analysis) and select only one of them ; or, neglecting their 
 variety, we may concentrate the multiple characters into one. 
 
 If we associate Identity with the Absolute, making the Abso- 
 lute the subject of a proposition, we get : The Absolute is what 
 is identical with itself. However true this proposition may be, 
 it is doubtful whether it be meant in its truth : and therefore it 
 is at least imperfect in the expression. For it is left undecided, 
 whether it means the abstract Identity of understanding, 
 abstract, that is, because contrasted with the other character- 
 istics of Essence, or the Identity which is inherently concrete. 
 In the latter case, as will be seen, true Identity is first discoverable 
 in the Ground, and, with a higher truth, in the Notion. 
 
THE LOGIC OF HEGEL 595 
 
 Identity is, in the first place, the repetition of what we had 
 earlier as Being, but as become, through supersession of its char- 
 acter of immediateness. It is therefore Being as Ideality. It is 
 important to come to a proper understanding on the true mean- 
 ing of Identity : and, for that purpose, we must especially guard 
 against taking it as abstract Identity, to the exclusion of all 
 Difference. That is the touch-stone for distinguishing all bad 
 philosophy from what alone deserves the name of philosophy. 
 Identity in its truth, as an Ideality of what immediately is, is a 
 high category for our religious modes of mind as well as all other 
 forms of thought and mental activity. The true knowledge of 
 God, it may be said, begins when we know him as identity, 
 as absolute identity. To know so much is to see that all the power 
 and glory of the world sinks into nothing in God's presence, 
 and subsists only as the reflection of His power and His glory. 
 In the same way, Identity, as self-consciousness, is what dis- 
 tinguishes man from nature, particularly from the brutes which 
 never reach the point of comprehending tkemselves as "I," 
 that is, pure self-contained unity. So again, in connexion with 
 thought, the main thing is not to confuse the true Identity, which 
 contains Being and its characteristics ideally transfigured in it, 
 with an abstract Identity, identity of bare form. All the charges 
 of narrowness, hardness, meaninglessness, which are so often di- 
 rected against thought from the quarter of feeling and immediate 
 perception, rest on the perverse assumption that thought acts 
 only as a faculty of abstract Identification. The Formal Logic 
 itself confirms this assumption by laying down the supreme law 
 of thought (so-called) which has been discussed above. If think- 
 ing were no more than an abstract Identity, we could not but 
 own it to be a most futile and tedious business. No doubt the 
 notion, and the idea too, are identical with themselves ; but iden- 
 tical only in so far as they at the same time involve distinction. 
 
 () DIFFERENCE 
 
 116. Essence is mere Identity and reflection in itself only as 
 it is self-relating negativity, and in that way self-repulsion. It 
 contains therefore essentially the characteristic of DIFFERENCE. 
 
596 HEGEL 
 
 Other-being is here no longer qualitative, taking the shape 
 of the character or limit. It is now in Essence, in self-relating 
 essence, and therefore the negation is at the same time a relation, 
 is, in short, Distinction, Relativity, Mediation. 
 
 To ask, "How Identity comes to Difference," assumes that 
 Identity as mere abstract Identity is something of itself, and 
 Difference also something else equally independent. This sup- 
 position renders an answer to the question impossible. If Identity 
 is viewed as diverse from Difference, all that we have in this 
 way is but Difference; and hence we cannot demonstrate the 
 advance to difference, because the person who asks for the How 
 of the progress thereby implies that for him the starting-point 
 is non-existent. The question then when put to the test has 
 obviously no meaning, and its proposer may be met with the 
 question what he means by Identity; whereupon we should 
 soon see that he attaches no idea to it at all, and that Identity is 
 for him an empty name. As we have seen, besides, Identity 
 is undoubtedly a' negative, not however an abstract empty 
 Nought, but the negation of Being and its characteristics. Being 
 so, Identity is at the same time self-relation, and, what is more, 
 negative self-relation; in other words, it draws a distinction 
 between it and itself. 
 
 (y) THE GROUND 
 
 121. The GROUND is the unity of identity and difference, 
 the truth of what difference and identity have turned out to 
 be, the reflection-into-self, which is equally a reflection-into- 
 another, and vice versa. It is essence put explicitly as a total- 
 ity. 
 
 The maxim of the Ground runs thus: Everything has its 
 Sufficient Ground : that is, the true essentiality of any thing is 
 not the predication of it as identical with itself, or as different 
 (various), or merely positive, or merely negative, but as having 
 its Being in an other, which, being its self-same, is its essence. 
 And to this extent the essence is not abstract reflection into self, 
 but into an other. The Ground is the essence in its own inward- 
 
THE LOGIC OF HEGEL 597 
 
 ness; the essence is intrinsically a ground; and it is a ground 
 only when it is a ground of somewhat, of an other. 
 
 We must be careful, when we say that the ground is the unity 
 of identity and difference, not to understand by this unity an 
 abstract identity. Otherwise we only change the name, while we 
 still think the identity (of understanding) already seen to be 
 false. To avoid this misconception we may say that the ground, 
 besides being the unity, is also the difference of identity and 
 difference. In that case in the ground, which promised at first 
 to supersede contradiction, a new contradiction seems to arise. 
 It is however a contradiction which so far from persisting 
 quietly in itself, is rather the expulsion of it from itself. The 
 ground is a ground only to the extent that it affords ground: 
 but the result which thus issued from the ground is only itself. 
 In this lies its formalism. The ground and what is grounded are 
 one and the same content : the difference between the two is the 
 mere difference of form which separates simple self-relation, on 
 the one hand, from mediation or derivativeness on the other. 
 Inquiry into the grounds of things goes with the point of view 
 which, as already noted (note to 112), is adopted by Reflection. 
 We wish, as it were, to see the matter double, first in its immedi- 
 acy, and secondly in its ground, where it is no longer immediate. 
 This is the plain meaning of the law of sufficient ground, as it 
 is called; it asserts that things should essentially be viewed as 
 mediated. The manner in which Formal Logic establishes this 
 law of thought, sets a bad example to other sciences. Formal 
 Logic asks these sciences not to accept their subject-matter as it 
 is immediately given ; and yet herself lays down a law of thought 
 without deducing it, in other words, without exhibiting its 
 mediation. With the same justice as the logician maintains our 
 faculty of thought to be so constituted that we must ask for the 
 ground of everything, might the physicist, when asked why a man 
 who falls into water is drowned, reply that man happens to be 
 so organised that he cannot live under water; or the jurist, when 
 asked why a criminal is punished, reply that civil society happens 
 to be so constituted that crimes cannot be left unpunished. 
 
 Yet even if logic be excused the duty of giving a ground for 
 
598 HEGEL 
 
 the law of the sufficient ground, it might at least explain what 
 is to be understood by a ground. The common explanation, 
 which describes the ground as what has a consequence, seems at 
 the first glance more lucid and intelligible than the preceding 
 definition in logical terms. If you ask however what the conse- 
 quence is, you are told that it is what has a ground ; and it be- 
 comes obvious that the explanation is intelligible only because 
 it assumes what in our case has been reached as the termination 
 of an antecedent movement of thought. And this is the true 
 business of logic : to show that those thoughts, which as usually 
 employed merely float before consciousness neither understood 
 nor demonstrated, are really grades hi the self-determination 
 of thought. It is by this means that they are understood and 
 demonstrated. 
 
 B. APPEARANCE 
 
 131. The Essence must appear or shine forth. Its shining 
 or reflection in it is the suspension and translation of it to im- 
 mediacy, which, whilst as reflection-on-self it is matter or sub- 
 sistence, is also form, reflection-on-something-else, a subsistence 
 which sets itself aside. To show or shine is the characteristic 
 by which essence is distinguished from being, by which it is 
 essence; and it is this show which, when it is developed, shows 
 itself, and is Appearance. Essence accordingly is not something 
 beyond or behind appearance, but just because it is the essence 
 which exists the existence is APPEARANCE (Forth- shining). 
 
 Existence stated explicitly in its contradiction is Appearance. 
 But appearance (forth- shining) is not to be confused with a 
 mere show (shining). Show is the proximate truth of Being or 
 immediacy. The immediate, instead of being, as we suppose, 
 something independent, resting on its own self, is a mere show, 
 and as such it is packed or summed up under the simplicity of 
 the immanent essence. The essence is, in the first place, the sum 
 total of the showing itself, shining in itself (inwardly) ; but, far 
 from abiding in this inwardness, it comes as a ground forward 
 into existence; and this existence being grounded not in itself, 
 
THE LOGIC OF HEGEL 599 
 
 but on something else, is just appearance. In our imagination 
 we ordinarily combine with the term appearance or phenomenon 
 the conception of an indefinite congeries of things existing, the 
 being of which is purely relative, and which consequently do not 
 rest on a foundation of their own, but are esteemed only as 
 passing stages. But in this conception it is no less implied that 
 essence does not linger behind or beyond appearance. Rather 
 it is, we may say, the infinite kindness which lets its own show 
 freely issue into immediacy, and graciously allows it the joy of 
 existence. The appearance which is thus created does not stand 
 on its own feet, and has its being not in itself but in something 
 else. God who is the essence, when He lends existence to the 
 passing stages of his own show in himself, may be described as 
 the goodness that creates a world : but He is also the power above 
 it, and the righteousness, which manifests the merely phenomenal 
 character of the content of this existing world, whenever it tries 
 to exist in independence. 
 
 Appearance is in every way a very important grade of the 
 logical idea. It may be said to be the distinction of philosophy 
 from ordinary consciousness that it sees the merely phenomenal 
 character of what the latter supposes to have a self-subsistent 
 being. The significance of appearance however must be properly 
 grasped, or mistakes will arise. To say that anything is a mere 
 appearance may be misinterpreted to mean that, as compared 
 with what is merely phenomenal, there is greater truth in the 
 immediate, in that which is. Now in strict fact, the case is 
 precisely the reverse. Appearance is higher than mere Being, 
 a richer category because it holds in combination the two ele- 
 ments of reflection-into-self and reflection-into-another : whereas 
 Being (or immediacy) is still mere relationlessness, and ap- 
 parently rests upon itself alone. Still, to say that anything is 
 only an appearance suggests a real flaw, which consists in this, 
 that Appearance is still divided against itself and without in- 
 trinsic stability. Beyond and above mere appearance comes in 
 the first place Actuality, the third grade of Essence, of which 
 we shall afterwards speak. 
 
6oo HEGEL 
 
 C. ACTUALITY 
 
 142. Actuality is the unity, become immediate, of essence 
 with existence, or of inward with outward. The utterance of 
 the actual is the actual itself : so that in this utterance it remains 
 just as essential, and only is essential, in so far as it is in im- 
 mediate external existence. 
 
 We have ere this met Being and Existence as forms of the 
 immediate. Being is, in general, unreflected immediacy and 
 transition into another. Existence is immediate unity of being 
 and reflection ; hence appearance : it comes from the ground", and 
 falls to the ground. In actuality this unity is explicitly put, and 
 the two sides of the relation identified. Hence the actual is 
 exempted from transition, and its externality is its energising. 
 In that energising it is reflected into itself: its existence is only 
 the manifestation of itself, not of another. 
 
 Actuality and thought (or Idea) are often absurdly opposed. - 
 How commonly we hear people saying that, though no objection 
 can be urged against the truth and correctness of a certain 
 thought, there is nothing of the kind to be seen in actuality, or 
 it cannot be actually carried out ! People who use such language 
 only prove that they have not properly apprehended the nature 
 either of thought or of actuality. Thought in such a case is, on 
 one hand, the synonym for a subjective conception, plan, inten- 
 tion or the like, just as actuality, on the other, is made synonymous 
 with external and sensible existence. This is all very well in 
 common life, where great laxity is allowed in the categories and 
 the names given to them : and it may of course happen that e. g. 
 the plan, or so-called idea, say of a certain method of taxation, 
 is good and advisable in the abstract, but that nothing of the 
 sort is found in so-called actuality, or could possibly be carried 
 out under the given conditions. But when the abstract under- 
 standing gets hold of these categories and exaggerates the dis- 
 tinction they imply into a hard and fast line of contrast, when 
 it tells us that in this actual world we must knock ideas out of 
 our heads, it is necessary energetically to protest against these 
 doctrines, alike hi the name of science and of sound reason. 
 
THE LOGIC OF HEGEL 601 
 
 For on the one hand Ideas are not confined to our heads merely, 
 nor is the Idea, upon the whole, so feeble as to leave the question 
 of its actualisation or non-actualisation dependent on our will. 
 The Idea is rather the absolutely active as well as actual. And 
 on the other hand actuality, is not so bad and irrational, as pur- 
 blind or wrong-headed and muddle-brained would-be reformers 
 imagine. So far is actuality, as distinguished from mere ap- 
 pearance, and primarily presenting a unity of inward and out- 
 ward, from being in contrariety with reason, that it is rather 
 thoroughly reasonable, and everything which is not reasonable 
 must on that very ground cease to be held actual. The same 
 view may be traced hi the usages of educated speech, which 
 declines to give the name of real poet or real statesman to a poet 
 or a statesman who can do nothing really meritorious or rea- 
 sonable. 
 
 143. (a) Viewed as an identity in general, Actuality is first 
 of all POSSIBILITY the reflection-into-self which, as in con- 
 trast with the concrete unity of the actual, is taken and made 
 an abstract and unessential essentiality. Possibility is what is 
 essential to reality, but in such a way that it is at the same 
 time only a possibility. 
 
 144. (/?) But the Actual in its distinction from possibility 
 (which is reflection-into-self) is itself only the outward concrete, 
 the unessential immediate. In other words, to such extent as 
 the actual is primarily ( 142) the simple merely immediate 
 unity of Inward and Outward, it is obviously made an unes- 
 sential outward, and thus at the same time ( 140) it is merely 
 inward, the abstraction of reflection-into-self. Hence it is itself 
 characterised as a merely possible. When thus valued at the 
 rate of a mere possibility, the actual is a CONTINGENT or Ac- 
 cidental, and, conversely, possibility is mere Accident itself or 
 CHANCE. 
 
 145. Possibility and Contingency are the two factors of 
 Actuality, Inward and Outward, put as mere forms which 
 constitute the externality of the actual. They have their reflec- 
 tion-into-self on the body of actual fact, or content, with its 
 
6o 2 HEGEL 
 
 intrinsic definiteness which gives the essential ground of their 
 characterisation. The finitude of the contingent and the possible 
 lies, therefore, as we now see, in the distinction of the form- 
 determination from the content: and, therefore, it depends on 
 the content alone whether anything. is contingent and possible. 
 
 147. (7) When this externality (of actuality) is thus developed 
 into a circle of the two categories of possibility and immediate 
 actuality, showing the intermediation of the one by the other, 
 it is what is called REAL POSSIBILITY. Being such a circle, 
 further, it is the totality, and thus the content, the actual fact or 
 affair in its all-round definiteness. Whilst in like manner, if 
 we look at the distinction between the two characteristics in this 
 unity, it realises the concrete totality of the form, the immediate 
 self-translation of inner into outer, and of outer into inner. 
 This self -movement of the form is ACTIVITY, carrying into effect 
 the fact or affair as a real ground which is self-suspended to 
 actuality, and carrying into effect the contingent actuality, the 
 conditions; i. e. it is their reflection-in-self, and their self-sus- 
 pension to another actuality, the actuality of the actual fact. 
 If all the conditions are at hand, the fact (event) must be actual ; 
 and the fact itself is one of the conditions : for being in the first 
 place only inner, it is at first itself only pre-supposed. Developed 
 actuality, as the coincident alternation of inner and outer, the 
 alternation of their opposite motions combined into a single 
 motion, is NECESSITY. 
 
 The theory however which regards the world as determined 
 through necessity and the belief in a divine providence are by 
 no means mutually excluding points of view. The intellectual 
 principle underlying the idea of divine providence will hereafter 
 be shown to be the notion. But the notion is the truth of neces- 
 sity, which it contains in suspension in itself; just as, conversely, 
 necessity is the notion implicit. Necessity is blind only so long 
 as it is not understood. There is nothing therefore more mis- 
 taken than the charge of blind fatalism made against the Phil- 
 osophy of History, when it takes for its problem to understand 
 
THE LOGIC OF HEGEL 603 
 
 the necessity of every event. The philosophy of history rightly 
 understood takes the rank of a Theodicee; and those, who 
 fancy they honour Divine Providence by excluding necessity 
 from it, are really degrading it by this exclusiveness to a blind 
 and irrational caprice. In the simple language of the religious 
 mind which speaks of God's eternal and immutable decrees, 
 there is implied an express recognition that necessity forms 
 part of the essence of God. In his difference from God, man, 
 with his own private opinion and will, follows the call of caprice 
 and arbitrary humour, and thus often finds his acts turn out 
 something quite different from what he had meant and willed. 
 But God knows what he wills, is determined in his eternal will 
 neither by accident from within nor from without, and what he 
 wills he also accomplishes, irresistibly. 
 
 159. The passage from necessity to freedom, or from actual- 
 ity into the notion, is the very hardest, because it proposes that 
 independent actuality shall be thought as having all its substan- 
 tiality in the passing over and identity with the other independ- 
 ent actuality. The notion, too, is extremely hard, because it is 
 itself just this very identity. But the actual substance as such, 
 the cause, which in its exclusiveness resists all invasion, is ipso 
 facto subjected to necessity or the destiny of passing into depend- 
 ency : and it is this subjection rather where the chief hardness 
 lies. To think necessity, on the contrary, rather tends to melt 
 that hardness. For thinking means that, in the other, one meets 
 with one's self. .It means a liberation, which is not the flight 
 of abstraction, but consists in that which is actual having itself 
 not as something else, but as its own being and creation, in the 
 other actuality with which it is bound up by the force of neces- 
 sity. As existing in an individual form, this liberation is called 
 I : as developed to its totality, it is free Spirit ; as feeling, it is 
 Love ; and as enjoyment, it is Blessedness. The great vision 
 of substance in Spinoza is only a potential liberation from finite 
 exclusiveness and egoism: but the notion itself realises for its 
 own both the power of necessity and actual freedom. 
 
 When, as now, the notion is called the truth of Being and 
 Essence, we must expect to be asked, why we do not begin with 
 
6o 4 . HEGEL 
 
 the notion ? The answer is that, where knowledge by thought is 
 our aim, we cannot begin with the truth, because the truth, 
 when it forms the beginning, must rest on mere assertion. The 
 truth when it is thought must as such verify itself to thought. 
 If the notion were put at the head of Logic, and denned, quite 
 correctly in point of content, as the unity of Being and Essence, 
 the following question would come up: What are we to think 
 under the terms " Being" and "Essence," and how do they 
 come to be embraced in the unity of the Notion? But if we 
 answered these questions, then our beginning with the notion 
 would be merely nominal. The real start would be made with 
 Being, as we have here done : with this difference, that the 
 characteristics of Being as well as those of Essence would have 
 to be accepted uncritically from figurate conception, whereas 
 we have observed Being and Essence hi their own dialectical 
 development and learnt how they lose themselves hi the unity 
 of the notion. 
 
 v- 
 
 V 
 
 CHAPTER IX. THE DOCTRINE OF THE NOTION 
 
 160. The NOTION is the principle of freedom, the power of 
 substance self-realised. It is a systematic whole, in which each 
 of its constituent functions is the very total which the notion is, 
 and is put as indissolubly one with it. Thus in its self -identity 
 it has original and complete determinateness. 
 
 The position taken up by the notion is that of absolute ideal- 
 ism. Philosophy is a knowledge through notions because it sees 
 that what on other grades of consciousness is taken to have 
 Being, and to be naturally or immediately independent, is but a 
 constituent stage in the Idea. In the logic of understanding, 
 the notion is generally reckoned a mere form of thought, and 
 treated as a general conception. It is to this inferior view of 
 the notion that the assertion refers, so often urged on behalf of 
 the heart and sentiment, that notions as such are something 
 dead, empty, and abstract. The case is really quite the reverse. 
 The notion is, on the contrary, the principle of all life, and thus 
 possesses at the same time a character of thorough concreteness. 
 
THE LOGIC OF QEGEL 605 
 
 That it is so follows from, the whole logical movement up to 
 this point, and need not be here proved. The contrast between 
 form and content, which is thus used to criticise the notion 
 when it is alleged to be merely formal, has, like all the other 
 contrasts upheld by reflection, been already left behind and 
 overcome dialectically or through itself. The notion, in short, is 
 what contains all the earlier categories of thought merged in it. 
 It certainly is a form, but an infinite and creative form, which 
 includes, but at the same time releases from itself, the fulness 
 of all content. And so too the notion may, if it be wished, be 
 styled abstract, if the name concrete is restricted to the concrete 
 facts of sense or of immediate perception. For the notion is not 
 palpable to the touch, and when we are engaged with it, hearing 
 and seeing must quite fail us. And yet, as it was before remarked, 
 the notion is a true concrete; for the reason that it involves 
 Being and Essence, and the total wealth of these two spheres 
 with them, merged in the unity of thought. 
 
 If, as was said at an earlier point, the different stages of the 
 logical idea are to be treated as a series of definitions of the 
 Absolute, the definition which now results for us is that the 
 Absolute is the Notion. That necessitates a higher estimate of 
 the notion, however, than is found in formal conceptualist Logic, 
 where the notion is a mere form of our subjective thought, with 
 no original content of its own. But if Speculative Logic thus 
 attaches a meaning to the term notion so very different from that 
 usually given, it may be asked why the same word should be 
 employed in two contrary acceptations, and an occasion thus 
 given for confusion and misconception. The answer is that, 
 great as the interval is between the speculative notion and the 
 notion of Formal Logic, a closer examination shows that the 
 deeper meaning is not so foreign to the general usages of lan- 
 guage as it seems at first sight. We speak of the deduction of a 
 content from the notion, e. g. of the specific provisions of the 
 law of property from the notion of property; and so again we 
 speak of tracing back these material details to the notion. We 
 thus recognise that the notion is no mere form without a content 
 of its own : for if it were, there would be in the one case nothing 
 
6o6 . HEGEL 
 
 to deduce from such a form, and in the other case to trace a 
 given body of fact back to the empty form of the notion would 
 only rob the fact of its specific character, without making it 
 understood. 
 
 162. The doctrine of the notion is divided into three parts. 
 
 (1) The first is the doctrine of the SUBJECTIVE or Formal NOTION. 
 
 (2) The second is the doctrine of the notion invested with the 
 character of immediacy, or of OBJECTIVITY. (3) The third is the 
 doctrine of the IDEA, the subject-object, the unity of notion and 
 objectivity, the absolute truth. 
 
 A. THE SUBJECTIVE NOTION 
 (a) The Notion as Notion. 
 
 163. The Notion as Notion contains the three following 
 "moments" or functional parts, (i) The first is UNIVERSALITY 
 meaning that it is in free equality with itself in its specific 
 character. (2) The second is PARTICULARITY that is, the 
 specific character, in which the universal continues serenely 
 equal to itself. (3) The third is INDIVIDUALITY meaning 
 the reflection-into-self of the specific characters of universality 
 and particularity; which negative self-unity has complete 
 and original determinateness, without any loss to its self-identity 
 or universality. 
 
 164. Universality, particularity, and individuality are, taken 
 in the abstract, the same as identity, difference, and ground. 
 But the universal is the self-identical, with the express qualifi- 
 cation, that it simultaneously contains the particular and the 
 individual. Again, the particular is the different or the specific 
 character, but with the qualification that it is in itself universal 
 and is as an individual. Similarly the individual must be under- 
 stood to be a subject or substratum, which involves the genus 
 and species in itself and possesses a substantial existence. Such 
 is the explicit or realised inseparability of the functions of the 
 notion in their difference ( 160) what may be called the clear- 
 
THE LOGIC OF HEGEL 607 
 
 ness of the notion, in which each distinction causes no dimness 
 or interruption, but is quite as much transparent. 
 . No complaint is oftener made against the notion than that it 
 is abstract. Of course it is abstract, if abstract means that the 
 medium in which the notion exists is thought in general and not 
 the sensible thing in its empirical concreteness. It is abstract 
 also, because the notion falls short of the idea. To this extent 
 the subjective notion is still formal. This however does not 
 mean that it ought to have or receive another content than its 
 own. It is itself the absolute form, and so is all specific character, 
 but as that character is in its truth. Although it be abstract 
 therefore, it is the concrete, concrete altogether, the subject as 
 such. The absolutely concrete is the mind (see end of 159) - 
 the notion when it exists as notion distinguishing itself from its 
 objectivity, which notwithstanding the distinction still continues 
 to be its own. Everything else which is concrete, however rich 
 it be, is not so intensely identical with itself and therefore not 
 so concrete on its own part, least of all what is commonly 
 supposed to be concrete, but is only a congeries held together 
 by external influence. What are called notions, and in fact 
 specific notions, such as man, house, animal, &c., are simply 
 denotations and abstract representations. These abstractions 
 retain out of all the functions of the notion only that of univer- 
 sality; they leave particularity and individuality out of account 
 and have no development in these directions. By so doing they 
 just miss the notion. 
 
 165. It is the element of Individuality which first explicitly 
 differentiates the elements of the notion. Individuality is the 
 negative reflection of the notion into itself, and it is in that way 
 at first the free differentiating of it as the first negation, by which 
 the specific character of the notion is realized, but under the 
 form of particularity. That is to say, the different elements are 
 in the first place only qualified as the several elements of the 
 notion, and, secondly, their identity is no less explicitly stated, 
 the one being said to be the other. This realised particularity 
 of the notion is the Judgment. 
 
608 HEGEL 
 
 (b) The Judgment. 
 
 1 66. The JUDGMENT is the notion in its particularity, as a 
 connexion which is also a distinguishing of its functions, which 
 are put as independent and yet as identical with themselves, not 
 with one another. 
 
 One's first impression about the Judgment is the independence 
 of the two extremes, the subject and the predicate. The former 
 we take to be a thing or term per se, and the predicate a general 
 term outside the said subject and somewhere in our heads. The 
 next point is for us to bring the latter into combination with the 
 former, and in this way frame a Judgment. The copula "is" 
 however enunciates the predicate oj the subject, and so that ex- 
 ternal subjective subsumption is again put in abeyance, and the 
 Judgment taken as a determination of the object itself. The 
 etymological meaning of the Judgment (Urtheil) in German 
 goes deeper, as it were declaring the unity of the notion to be 
 primary, and its distinction to be the original partition. And 
 that is what the Judgment really is. 
 
 B. THE, OBJECT 
 
 194. The OBJECT is immediate being, because insensible to 
 difference, which in it has suspended itself. It is, further, a 
 totality in itself, whilst at the same time (as this identity is only 
 the implicit identity of its dynamic elements) it is equally in- 
 different to its immediate unity. It thus breaks up into distinct 
 parts, each of which is itself the totality. Hence the object is 
 the absolute contradiction between a complete independence of 
 the multiplicity, and the equally complete non-independence 
 of the different pieces. 
 
 The definition, which states that the Absolute is the Object, 
 is most definitely implied in the Leibnitzian Monad. The 
 Monads are each an object, but an object implicitly " represent- 
 ative," indeed the total representation of the world. In the sim- 
 ple unity of the Monad, all difference is merely ideal, not inde- 
 pendent or real. Nothing from without comes into the monad : 
 
THE LOGIC OF HEGEL 609 
 
 it is the whole notion in itself, only distinguished by its own 
 greater or less development. None the less, this simple totality 
 parts into the absolute multeity of differences, each becoming 
 an independent monad. In the monad of monads, and the Pre- 
 established Harmony of their inward developments, these sub- 
 stances are in like manner again reduced to "ideality" and un- 
 substantiality. The philosophy of Leibnitz, therefore, repre- 
 sents contradiction in its complete development. 
 
 (2) Objectivity contains the three forms of Mechanism, 
 Chemism, and Teleology. The object of mechanical type is the 
 immediate and undifferentiated object. No doubt it contains 
 difference, but the different pieces^ stand, as it were, without 
 affinity to each other, and their connexion is only extraneous. 
 In chemism, on the contrary, the object exhibits an essential 
 tendency to differentiation, in such a way that the objects are 
 what they are only by tKeir relation to each other : this tendency 
 to difference constitutes their quality. The third type of objec- 
 tivity, the teleological relation, is the unity of mechanism and 
 chemism. Design, -like the mechanical object, is a self-contained 
 totality, enriched however by the principle of differentiation 
 which came to the fore in chemism, and thus referring itself to 
 the object that stands over against it. Finally, it is the realiza- 
 tion of design which forms the transition to the Idea. 
 
 C. THE IDEA 
 
 213. The IDEA is truth in itself and for itself, the absolute 
 unity of the notion and objectivity. Its " ideal" content isTIo- 
 tliing but the notion in its detailed terms: its "real" content is 
 only the exhibition which the notion gives itself in the form of 
 external existence, whilst yet, by enclosing this shape in its ideal- 
 ity, it keeps it in its power, and so keeps itself in it. 
 
 The definition, which declares the Absolute to be the Idea, 
 is itself absolute. All former definitions come back to this. The 
 Idea is the Truth : for Truth is the correspondence of objectivity 
 with the notion : not of course the correspondence of external 
 
610 HEGEL 
 
 things with my conceptions, for these are only correct con- 
 ceptions held by me, the individual person. In the idea we have 
 nothing to do with the individual, nor with figurate conceptions, 
 nor with external things. And yet, again, everything actual, in 
 so far as it is true, is the Idea, and has its truth by and in virtue 
 of the Idea alone. Every individual being is some one aspect of 
 the Idea : for which, therefore, yet other actualities are needed, 
 which in their turn appear to have a self-subsistence of their 
 own. It is only in them altogether and in their relation that the 
 notion is realised. The individual by itself does not correspond 
 to its notion. It is this limitation of its existence which consti- 
 tutes the finitude and the ruin of the individual. 
 
 When we hear the Idea spoken of, we need not imagine some- 
 thing far away beyond this mortal sphere. The idea is rather 
 what is completely present: and it is found, however confused 
 and degenerated, in every consciousness. We conceive the world 
 to ourselves as a great totality which is created by God, and so 
 created that in it God has manifested himself to us. We regard 
 the world also as ruled by Divine Providence : implying that the 
 scattered and divided parts of the world are continually brought 
 back, and made conformable, to the unity from which they have 
 issued. The purpose of philosophy has always been the intel- 
 lectual ascertainment of the Idea ; and everything deserving the 
 name of philosophy has constantly been based on the conscious- 
 ness of an absolute unity where the understanding sees and ac- 
 cepts only separation. It is too late now to ask for proof that 
 the Idea is the truth. The proof of that is contained in the whole 
 deduction and development of thought up to this point. The 
 idea is the result of this course of dialectic. Not that it is to be 
 supposed that the idea is mediate only, i. e. mediated through 
 something else than itself. It is rather its own result, and being 
 so, is no less immediate than mediate. The stages hitherto con- 
 sidered, viz. those of Being and Essence, as well as those of 
 Notion and of Objectivity, are not, when so distinguished, some- 
 thing permanent, resting upon themselves. They have proved 
 to be dialectical ; and their only truth is that they arc dynamic 
 elements of the idea. 
 
THE LOGIC OF HEGEL 611 
 
 214. The Idea may be described in many ways. It may be 
 called reason (and this is the proper philosophical signification 
 of reason); subject-object; the unity of the ideal and the real, 
 of the finite and the infinite, of soul and body; the possibility 
 which has its actuality in its own self; that of which the nature 
 can be thought only as existent, &c. All these descriptions apply, 
 because the Idea contains all the relations of understanding, 
 but contains them in their infinite self-return and self-identity. 
 
 It is easy work for the understanding to show that everything 
 said of the Idea is self -contradictory. But that can quite as well 
 be retaliated, or rather in the Idea the retaliation is actually 
 made. And this work, which is the work of reason, is certainly 
 not so easy as that of the understanding. Understanding may 
 demonstrate that the Idea is self-contradictory: because the 
 subjective is subjective only and is always confronted by the 
 objective, because being is different from notion and there- 
 fore cannot be picked out of it, because the finite is finite 
 only, the exact antithesis of the infinite, and therefore not iden- 
 tical with it ; and so on with every term of the description* The 
 reverse of all this however is the doctrine of Logic. Logic shows 
 that the subjective which is to be subjective only, the finite which 
 would be finite only, the infinite which would be infinite only, 
 and so on, have no truth, but contradict themselves, and pass 
 over into their opposites. Hence this transition, and the unity 
 in which the extremes are merged and become factors, each with 
 a merely reflected existence, reveals itself as their truth. 
 
 The understanding, which addresses itself to deal with the 
 Idea, commits a double misunderstanding. It takes first the ex- 
 tremes of the Idea (be they expressed as they will, so long as 
 they are in their unity), not as they are understood when stamped 
 with this concrete unity, but as if they remained abstractions 
 outside of it. It no less mistakes the relation between them, even 
 when it has been expressly stated. Thus, for example, it over- 
 looks even the nature of the copula in the judgment, which 
 affirms that the individual, or subject, is after all not individual, 
 but universal. But, in the second place, the understanding 
 believes its "reflection," that the self-identical Idea contains 
 
612 HEGEL 
 
 its own negative, or contains contradiction, to be an external 
 reflection which does not lie within the Idea itself. But the re- 
 flection is really no peculiar cleverness of the understanding. 
 The Idea itself is the dialectic which for ever divides and dis- 
 tinguishes the self-identical from the differentiated, the subjec- 
 tive from the objective, the finite from the infinite, soul from 
 body. Only on these terms is it an eternal creation, eternal vital- 
 ity, and eternal spirit. But while it thus passes or rather trans- 
 lates itself into the abstract understanding, it for ever remains 
 reason. The Idea is the dialectic which again makes this mass 
 of understanding and diversity understand its finite nature and 
 the pseudo-independence in its productions, and which brings 
 the diversity back to unity. Since this double movement is not 
 separate or distinct in time, nor indeed in any other way - 
 otherwise it would be only a repetition of the abstract under- 
 standing the Idea is the eternal vision of itself in the other, 
 - notion which in its objectivity has carried out itself, object 
 which is inward design, essential subjectivity. 
 
 The different modes of apprehending the Idea as unity of 
 ideal and real, of finite and infinite, of identity and difference, 
 etc., are more or less formal. They designate some one stage of 
 the specific notion. Only the notion itself, however, is free and 
 the genuine universal : in the Idea, therefore, the specific char- 
 acter of the notion is only the notion itself, an objectivity, 
 viz., into which it, being the universal, continues itself, and in 
 which it has only its own character, the total character. The 
 Idea is the infinite judgment, of which the terms are severally 
 the independent totality; and in which, as each grows to the 
 fulness of its own nature, it has thereby at the same time passed 
 into the other. None of the other specific notions exhibits this 
 totality complete on both its sides as the notion itself and ob- 
 jectivity. 
 
 215. The Idea is essentially a process, because its identity 
 is the absolute and free identity of the notion, only in so far as 
 it is absolute negativity and for that reason dialectical. It is the 
 round of movement, in which the notion, in the capacity of uni- 
 versality which is individuality, gives itself the character of ob- 
 
THE LOGIC OF HEGEL 613 
 
 jectivity and of the antithesis thereto ; and this externality which 
 has the notion for its substance, finds its way back to subjec- 
 tivity through its immanent dialectic. 
 
 As the idea is (a) a process, it follows that such an expression 
 for the Absolute as unity of thought and being, of finite and 
 infinite, etc., is false; for unity expresses an abstract and merely 
 quiescent identity. As the Idea is (b) subjectivity, it follows that 
 the expression is equally false on another account. That unity 
 of which it speaks expresses a merely virtual or underlying pre- 
 sence of the genuine unity. The infinite would thus seem to be 
 merely neutralised by the finite, the subjective by the objective, 
 thought by being. But in the negative unity of the Idea, the 
 infinite overlaps and includes the finite, thought overlaps being, 
 subjectivity overlaps objectivity. The unity of the Idea is 
 thought, infinity, and subjectivity, and is in consequence to be 
 essentially distinguished from the Idea as substance, just as this 
 overlapping subjectivity, thought, or infinity is to be distin- 
 guished from the one-sided .subjectivity, one-sided thought, one- 
 sided infinity to which it descends in judging and defining. 
 
 The idea as a process runs through three stages in its develop- 
 ment. The first form of the idea is Life : that is, the idea in the 
 form of immediacy. The second form is that of mediation or 
 differentiation; and this is the idea in the form of Knowledge, 
 which appears under the double aspect of the Theoretical and 
 Practical idea. The process of knowledge eventuates in the 
 restoration of the unity enriched by difference. This gives the 
 third form of the idea, the Absolute Idea: which last stage of 
 the logical idea evinces itself to be at the same time the true first, 
 and to have a being due to itself alone. 
 
PHENOMENOLOGY OF THE SPIRIT 
 
 Freely translated from the German * by 
 JOSIAH ROYCE 
 
 THE CONTRITE CONSCIOUSNESS 1 
 
 IN Scepticism Consciousness learns in truth, that it is divided 
 against itself. And from this experience there is born a new 
 Type of Consciousness, wherein are linked the two thoughts 
 which Scepticism had kept asunder. The thoughtless self- 
 ignorance of Scepticism must pass away; for in fact the two 
 
 * From Hegel's System der Wissenschaft, Erster Theil : Die Phdnomenologie 
 des Geistes, Wurzburg, 1807. 
 
 1 The Phdnomenologie des Geistes, the first of Hegel's systematic works (1807), 
 is intended as a novel sort of "Introduction to Philosophy." It depicts a 
 series of "phases" or Gestalten of consciousness which lie between our natural 
 "common sense" view of the real world, and what Hegel regards as the truly 
 philosophical view of reality. These phases form a series, whose order Hegel 
 conceives as necessary. Each stage or phase of insight into the truth of things 
 is meanwhile illustrated in this book by examples derived from literature, from 
 history, or from the general experience of mankind. These mere illustrations 
 are freely chosen; and Hegel does not conceive that the special embodiment or 
 clothing which his choice of the illustrations gives to each phase or stage of 
 consciousness is part of the necessary development. 
 
 The " unhappy " or " contrite " consciousness (das ungliickliche Be-wusstsein) 
 is a phase or stage of consciousness which is subjectively idealistic in its inter- 
 pretation of reality, but which is abstract and dualistic in its view of its relations 
 to truth. It is therefore concerned not with external nature, but with its own 
 private ideals, and with a search for personal perfection. It is, in brief, what 
 Professor William James might call a "variety of religious experience." This 
 experience is here that of a lonely devotee, whose world consists of his search 
 for inner spiritual perfection, together with the goal of this search, namely his 
 far-off "changeless" or divine consciousness. Both the social and the more 
 technically theological aspects of religion play no essential part in the phase of 
 consciousness here in question. The illustrations are obviously derived from 
 mediaeval cloister life; but this part of the setting of the phase in question is 
 accidental. Any lonely religious experience might present essentially the same 
 features. 
 
 The union of theoretical opinions about the nature of truth, with practical 
 and emotional interpretations of life, is characteristic of the Phenomenology. 
 Any coherent plan of life embodies a theory of truth and of reality. Any view- 
 about the universe expresses itself in a way of life. Such is the general notion 
 illustrated by the phases of consciousness which the Phenomenology portrays. 
 
PHENOMENOLOGY OF THE SPIRIT 615 
 
 attitudes of Scepticism express One Consciousness. This new 
 Type of Consciousness is therefore explicitly aware of its own 
 doubleness. It regards itself on the one hand as the Deliverer, 
 changeless and self-possessed; on the other hand it regards it- 
 self as the absolutely confounded and contrary; and it is the 
 awareness of this its own contradiction. In Stoicism the Self 
 owns itself in the simplicity of freedom. In Scepticism it gives 
 itself embodiment, makes naught of other embodied reality, 
 but, in the very act of so doing, renders itself the rather twofold 
 and is now parted in twain. Hereby the same duplication that 
 was formerly shared between two individuals, the Lord and 
 the Slave, has now entered into the nature of one individual. 
 The differentiation of the Self, which is the essential Law of 
 the Spirit, is already present, but not as constituting an organic 
 unity, and the CONTRITE CONSCIOUSNESS is this awareness of 
 the Self as the divided Nature, wherein is only conflict. 
 
 This Contrite and Broken Consciousness, just because the 
 conflict of its Nature is known as belonging to one person, must 
 forever, in each of its two forms, have the other also present to 
 it. Whenever, in either form, it seems to have come to victory 
 and unity, it finds no rest there, but is forthwith driven over to 
 the other. Its true home-coming, its true reconciliation with 
 itself, will, however, display to us the law of the Spirit, as he 
 will appear when, having come to life, he has entered the world 
 of his manifestation. For it already belongs to the Contrite 
 Consciousness to be one undivided soul in the midst of its double- 
 ness. It is in fact the very gazing of one Self into another ; it is 
 both these selves ; it has no nature save in so far as it unites the 
 two. But thus far it knows not yet this its own real essence ; it 
 has not entered into possession of this unity. 
 
 For the first then, the Contrite Consciousness is but the un- 
 won unity of the two selves. To its view the two are not one, 
 but are at war together. And accordingly it regards one of them, 
 viz., the simple, the Changeless Consciousness, as the True 
 Self. The other, the multiform and fickle, it regards as the 
 False Self. The Contrite Consciousness finds these two as 
 mutually estranged. For its own part, because it is the aware- 
 
6i6 HEGEL 
 
 ness of this contradiction, it takes sides with the Changeless^ 
 Consciousness, and calls itself the False Self. But -.since it is'^ 
 aware^ of the Changeless, i. e. of the True Self, its task must 
 be one of self-deliverance, that is, the task of delivering itself 
 from the unreality. For on the one hand it knows itself only as 
 the fickle ; and the changeless is far remote from it. And yet the 
 Contrite Consciousness is in its genuine selfhood one with the 
 simple and Changeless Consciousness; for therein lies its own 
 true Self. But yet again it knows that it is not in possession of 
 this true self. So long as the Contrite Consciousness assigns 
 to the two selves this position, they cannot remain indifferent 
 to each other; or, in other words, the Contrite Consciousness 
 cannot itself be indifferent to the Changeless. For the Contrite 
 Consciousness is, as a fact, of both kinds, and knows the rela- 
 tion of the changeless to the fickle as a relation of truth to false- 
 hood. The falsehood must be turned to naught ; but since the 
 Contrite Consciousness finds both the false and the true alike 
 necessary to it, and contradictory, there remains to it only the 
 contradictory movement, wherein neither of the opposed ele- 
 ments can find repose in going over to its opponent but must 
 create itself anew in the opponent's very bosom. 
 
 To win, then, in this strife against the adversary, is rather to 
 be vanquished. To attain one goal, is rather to lose it in its 
 opposite. The whole life, whatever it be, whatever it do, is aware 
 only of the pain of this being and doing. For this Consciousness 
 has no object besides its opposite, the true Self, and its own 
 nothingness. In aspiration it strives hence towards the Change- 
 less. But this aspiration is itself the Contrite Consciousness, 
 and contains forthwith the knowledge of the opposite, namely 
 of its own individuality. The Changeless, when it enters con- 
 sciousness, is sicklied o'er with individuality, is present there- 
 with ; instead of being lost in the consciousness of the Change- 
 less, individuality arises ever afresh therein. 
 
 But one thing the Contrite Consciousness thus learns, namelf 
 that individuality is made manifest in the Changeless, and that 
 the Changeless is made manifest in individuality. It finds that 
 in general individuality belongs to the changeless true Self, and 
 
PHENOMENOLOGY OF THE SPIRIT 617 
 
 iat in fact its own individuality also belongs thereto. For the 
 outcome of this process is precisely the unity Of this twofold 
 consciousness. This unity, then, comes to light, but for the first 
 only as an unity wherein the diversity of the two aspects plays 
 the chief part. For the Contrite Consciousness there thus result 
 three ways hi which individuality and the Changeless are linked. 
 First, it rediscovers itself as again banished into its opposition 
 to the Changeless Self; and it is cast back to the beginning of 
 the strife, which latter still remains the element of the entire 
 relationship. In the second place, the Contrite Consciousness 
 learns that individuality belongs to the very essence of the 
 Changeless, is the incarnation of the Changeless ; and the latter 
 hereupon assumes the burden of this whole range of phenom- 
 ena. In the third place, the Contrite Consciousness discovers 
 itself to be the individual who dwells hi the Changeless. In 
 the first stage the Changeless appears to consciousness only 
 as the remote Self, that condemns individuality. In passing 
 through the second stage, consciousness learns that the Change- 
 less is as much an incarnate individual as it is itself; and thus, 
 in the third stage, consciousness reaches the grade of the Spirit, 
 rejoices to find itself in the Spirit, and becomes aware that its 
 individuality is reconciled with the Universal. 
 
 What is here set forth as the character and relationship of 
 the Changeless has appeared as the experience that the divided 
 consciousness obtains in its woe. This experience is to be sure 
 hot its own one-sided process; for it is itself the Changeless 
 Consciousness, and the latter is also an individual consciousness ; 
 so that the process is all the while a process in the Changeless 
 Consciousness, belonging to the latter quite as much as to the 
 other. For the Changeless Consciousness passes through the 
 three stages, being first the changeless as in general opposed to 
 the individual, then becoming an individual over against an- 
 other individual, and finally being united with the latter. But 
 this observation, in so far as it is made from our own point of 
 view as observers, is here premature ; for thus far we have come 
 to know the Changeless only in so far as consciousness has de- 
 nned it. Not, as yet, the true Changeless, but the Changeless 
 
6i8 HEGEL 
 
 as modified by the duality of consciousness, has come to our 
 sight ; and so we know not how the developed and self-possessed 
 Changeless will behave. What has resulted from the foregoing 
 is only this, that the mentioned characteristics appear, to the 
 consciousness now under consideration, as belonging to the 
 Changeless. 
 
 Consequently the Changeless Consciousness itself also pre- 
 serves even in its incarnate form the character and principle of 
 separation and isolation as against the individual consciousness. 
 From the latter's point of view, the fact that the Changeless 
 takes on the form of individuality appears as something which 
 somehow comes to pass. The opposition to the Changeless is 
 something, moreover, which the individual consciousness merely 
 finds as a fact. The relation seems to it merely a result of its 
 natural constitution. As for the final reconciliation, the indi- 
 vidual consciousness looks upon this as in part its own deed, 
 the result of its own individuality ; but it also regards a part of 
 the unity as due, both in origin and in existence, to the Change- 
 less. The element of opposition thus remains even in the unity. 
 In fact, in taking on its incarnate form, the Changeless has not 
 only retained but actually confirmed its character of remoteness. 
 For although, in assuming a developed and incarnate individu- 
 ality, it seems on the one hand to have approached the individual, 
 still, on the other hand, it now stands over against him as an 
 opaque fact of sense, with all the stubbornness of the actual 
 about it. The hope that the individual may become one with 
 the Changeless must remain but hope, empty and distant ; for 
 between hope and fruition stand now the fatal chance and the 
 lifeless indifference which have resulted from that very incar- 
 nation wherein lies the foundation of the hope. Because the 
 Changeless has thus entered the world of facts, has taken on 
 the garments of actuality, it follows necessarily that in the 
 world of time it has vanished, that in space it is far away, and 
 forever far remains. 
 
 If at the outset the mere notion of the divided consciousness 
 demanded that it should undertake the destruction of its in- 
 dividuality, and the growth into the Changeless, the present 
 
PHENOMENOLOGY OF THE SPIRIT 619 
 
 result defines the undertaking thus : That the individual should 
 leave off its relation with the formless ideal, and should come 
 only into relations with the Changeless as incarnate. For it is 
 now the fact of the unity of the individual and the Changeless 
 which has become the truth and the object for consciousness, 
 as before, in the mere notion, only the abstract and disem- 
 bodied Changeless was the essential object; and consciousness 
 now finds the total separation of the notion as the relation which 
 is to be forgotten. The thing which has now to be reduced to 
 unity is the still external relation to the embodied Ideal, in so 
 far as the latter is a foreign actuality. 
 
 The process whereby the unreal Self seeks to reach this unity 
 is once more threefold, since it will be found to have a threefold 
 relation to its incarnate but remote Ideal. In the first place it 
 will appear as the Devout Consciousness; in the second place, 
 as an individual, whose relation to the actuality will be one of 
 aspiration and of service; in the third place it will reach the 
 consciousness of self-possession. We must now follow these 
 three states of being, to see how they are involved in the general 
 relation, and are determined thereby. 
 
 Taking the first state, that of the Devout Consciousness, one 
 finds indeed that the incarnate Changeless, as it appears to this 
 consciousness, seems to be present in all the completeness of its 
 being. But as a fact the fashion of the completed being of the 
 Changeless has not yet been developed. Should this completed 
 being be revealed to consciousness, the revelation would be, as 
 it were, rather the deed of the Ideal than the work of the Devout 
 Consciousness; and thus the revelation would come from one 
 side alone, would be no full and genuine revelation, but would 
 remain burdened with incompleteness and with duality. 
 
 Although the Contrite Consciousness still lacks the presence 
 of its Ideal, it is nevertheless as we see [also] beyond the stage 
 of pure thought, whether such thought were the mere abstract 
 thinking of Stoicism, which forgets all individuality, or the 
 merely restless thinking of Scepticism, which in fact embodies 
 individuality in its ignorant contradictions and its ceaseless 
 unrepose. Both of these stages the Contrite Consciousness has 
 
620 HEGEL 
 
 transcended. It begins the synthesis of pure thought and of 
 individuality and persists therein. But it has not yet risen to the 
 thought which is aware of the reconciliation of the conscious 
 individual with the demands of pure thought. The Contrite 
 Consciousness stands between the two extremes, at the place 
 where pure thought and the individual consciousness meet. It 
 is in fact itself this meeting place ; it is the unity of pure thought 
 and individuality. It even knows that pure thought, yes the 
 Changeless itself, is essentially individual. But what it does 
 not know is that this its object, the Changeless, which it re- 
 gards as having necessarily assumed an incarnate individuality, 
 is identical with its own self, with the very individual as he is in 
 consciousness. 
 
 Its attitude then, in this first form, in which it appears as the 
 Devout Consciousness, is not one in which it explicitly thinks 
 about its object. It is implicitly indeed the consciousness of a 
 thinking individual, and its object also is a thinking individual. 
 But the relation between these two is still one that defies pure 
 thought. Consciousness accordingly as it were makes but a 
 feint at thinking, and takes the form of Adoration. Such thought 
 as it has remains the mere formless tinkling of an altar bell, or 
 the wreathing of warm incense smoke a thinking in music, 
 such as never reaches an organized notion, wherein alone an 
 inner objectivity could be attained. This limitless and devout 
 inner Feeling finds indeed its object, but as something uncom- 
 prehended, and so as a stranger. Thus comes to pass the in- 
 ward activity of the devout soul, which is indeed self-conscious, 
 but only in so far as it possesses the mere feeling of its sorrowful 
 disharmony. This activity is one of ceaseless longing. It pos- 
 sesses the assurance that its true Self is just such a pure soul, - 
 pure thought in fact, taking on the form of individuality, 
 and that this Being, who is the object of the devotion, since he 
 possesses the thought of his own individuality, recognizes and 
 approves the worshipper. But at the same time this Being is 
 the unapproachable and remote. As you seize hold upon him 
 he escapes, or rather he has already gone away. He has already 
 gone away ; for he is the Ideal giving himself in thought the form 
 
PHENOMENOLOGY OF THE SPIRIT 621 
 
 of an individual and therefore consciousness gets without hin- 
 drance its self -fulfilment in him, gets self-fulfilment, but only 
 to learn that it is the very opposite of this Ideal. Instead of 
 seizing hold on the true Self, its mere feeling is all. It sinks back 
 into itself. Unable at the moment of union to escape finding 
 itself as the very opposite of the ideal, it has actually seized hold 
 upon its own untruthfulness, not upon the truth. In the true 
 Self it has sought to find its own fulfilment ; but its own means 
 only its isolated individual reality. For the same reason it can- 
 not get hold upon the true Self in so far as he is at once an 
 individual and a reality. Where one seeks him, the true Self is 
 not to be found ; for by definition he is the remote Self, and so 
 is to be found nowhere. To seek him in so far as he is an indi- 
 vidual is not to look for his universal, his ideal individuality, 
 nor for his presence as the law of life, * but merely to seek him 
 as an individual thing, as a fact amongst facts, 2 as something 
 that sense could touch unhindered. But as such an object the 
 Ideal exists only as a lost object. What consciousness finds is 
 thus only the sepulchre of its true life. But this sepulchre is now 
 the actuality, and, moreover, one that by its nature forbids any 
 abiding possession; and the presence of this tomb means only 
 the strife of a search that must be fruitless. But consciousness 
 thus learns that there is no real sepulchre which can contain its 
 true Lord, the Changeless. As Lord who has been taken away 
 he is not the true Lord. The Changeless will no longer be looked 
 for here below, or grasped after as the vanished one. For hereby 
 consciousness learns to look for individuality as a genuine and 
 universal ideal. 
 
 In the next place then, the return of the soul to itself is to be 
 defined as its knowledge that in its own individuality it has 
 genuine being. It is the pure heart, which potentially, or from 
 our point of view, has discovered the secret of self-satisfaction. 
 For although in feeling it is sundered from its Ideal, still this 
 feeling is in essence a feeling of self-possession. What has been 
 felt is the Ideal as expressed in terms of pure feeling ; and this 
 
 1 Begriff, here paraphrased to suit special context. 
 
 2 Wirkliches, here used as equal to Seyendes. 
 
622 HEGEl 
 
 Ideal is its own very self. It issues from the process then as the 
 feeling of self-possession, and so as an actual and independent 
 being. By this return to itself it has, from our point of view, 
 passed to its second relationship, that of aspiration and service. 
 And in this second stage consciousness confirms itself in the 
 assurance of self-possession (an assurance which we now see it 
 to have attained), by overcoming and feeding upon the true Self, 
 which, in so far as it was an independent thing, was estranged. 
 From the point of view of the Contrite Consciousness, however, 
 all that yet appears is the aspiration and the service. It knows 
 not yet that in finding these it has the assurance of self-possession 
 as the basis of its existence, and that its feeling of the true Self 
 is a self-possessed feeling. Not knowing this, it has still ever 
 within it the ^fragmentary assurance of itself. Therefore any 
 confirmation which it should receive from toiling and from 
 communion would still be a fragmentary confirmation. Yes, 
 itself it must destroy even this confirmation also, finding therein 
 indeed a confirmation of something, but only of its isolation and 
 its separation. 
 
 The actual world wherein the aspiration and the service find 
 their calling, seems to this consciousness no longer an essen- 
 tially vain world, that is only to be destroyed and consumed, 
 but rather, like the consciousness itself, a world broken in twain, 
 which is only in one aspect vain, while in another aspect it is a 
 sanctified world, wherein the Changeless is incarnate. For the 
 Changeless has retained the nature of individuality, and being, 
 as changeless, an Universal, its individuality has in general the 
 significance of all actuality. 
 
 If consciousness were now aware of its independent person- 
 ality, and if it regarded the actual world as essentially vain, it 
 ^ would get the feeling of its independence in its service and in its 
 communion, since it would be aware of itself as the victory- that 
 overcometh the world. But because the world is regarded by it 
 as an embodiment of the ideal, it may not overcome by its own 
 power. It does indeed attain to conquest over the world and to 
 a feasting thereon, but to this end it is essential that the Change- 
 less should itself give its own body as the food. And in this re- 
 
PHENOMENOLOGY OF THE SPIRIT 623 
 
 spect consciousness appears as a mere matter of fact having no 
 part in the deed ; but it also appears as inwardly broken in twain, 
 and this doubleness, its division into a Self that stands in a 
 genuine relation to itself)and to reality, and a Self whose life is 
 hidden and undeveloped, is now apparent in the contrast be- 
 tween its service and its communion. (As in actual relation to 
 the world, consciousness is a doer of works, and knows itself as 
 such, and this side belongs to its individuality^ But it has also 
 its undeveloped reality. This is hidden in the- true Self, and 
 consists in the talents and virtues of the individual. They are a 
 foreign gift. The Changeless grants them to consciousness that 
 they may be used. 
 
 In doing its good works, consciousness is, for the first, parted 
 into a relationship between two extremes. On one side stands 
 the toiler in the world here below ; on the other side stands the 
 passive actuality in whose midst he toils. Both are related to 
 each other ; both however are also referred to the Changeless as 
 their source, and have their being hidden therein.- From each 
 side, then, there is but a shadowy image let free to enter into 
 play with the other ^V That term of the relationship which is 7* 
 called the Actuality is overcome by the other term, the doer of 
 good works. But the former term, for its part, can only be over- 
 come because its own Changeless Nature overcomes it, divides 
 itself in twain, and gives over the divided part to be the material 
 for deeds. The power that does the deeds appears as the might 
 that overcometh the world. But for this very reason the present 
 Consciousness, which regards its true Self as something foreign, 
 must regard this might also, whereby it works, as a thing remote 
 from itself. Instead of winning self-possession from its good 
 works, and becoming thereby sure of itself, Consciousness re- 
 lates all this activity back again to the other member of the 
 relationship, which thus proves itself to be the pure Universal, 
 the Absolute Might, whence flows every form of activity, and 
 wherein lies the truth both of the mutually dissolving terms, as 
 they first appeared, and of their interchanging of relationship. 
 
 The Changeless Consciousness sacrifices its body, and gives 
 it over to be used. On ths other hand the individual conscious- 
 
624 HEGEL 
 
 ness renders thanks for the gift, forbids itself the satisfaction of 
 a sense of independence, and refers all its doings to the Change- 
 less. In these two aspects of the mutual sacrifice made by both 
 the members of the relation, Consciousness does indeed win the 
 sense of its own oneness with the Changeless. But at the same 
 time this oneness is still beladen with the separation, and is 
 divided in itself. The opposition between the Individual and the 
 Universal comes afresh to sight. For Consciousness only seems to 
 resign selfish satisfaction. As a fact it gets selfish satisfaction. 
 For it still remains longing, activity, and fulfilment. As Con- 
 sciousness it has longed, it has acted, it has been filled. In giving 
 thanks, in acknowledging the Other as the true Self, in making 
 naught of itself, it has still been doing its own deed. This deed 
 has repaid the deed of the Other, has rendered a price for the 
 kindly sacrifice. If the Other has offered its own image as a 
 gift, consciousness, for its part, has made its return in thanks, 
 and has herein done actually more than the Other, since it has 
 offered its All, namely, its good works, while the Other has 
 but parted with its mere image. The entire process returns then 
 back to the side of the individual, and does so not merely in 
 respect of the actual aspiration, service, and communion, but 
 even in respect of the very act of giving thanks, an act that was 
 to attain the opposite result. In giving thanks consciousness is 
 aware of itself as this individual, and refuses to be deceived by 
 its own seeming resignation. What has resulted is only the two- 
 fold reference of the process to its two terms ; and the result is 
 the renewed division into the conflicting consciousness of the 
 Changeless on the one hand, and, on the other hand, the con- 
 sciousness of the opposed will, activity, and fulfilment, and even 
 of the very resignation itself ; for these constitute in general the 
 separated individuality. 
 
 Herewith begins the third phase of the process of this con- 
 sciousness, which follows from the second as a consciousness 
 that in truth, by will and by deed, has proved its independence. 
 In the first phase it was the mere notion of a live Consciousness, 
 an inner life that had not yet attained actuality by service and 
 communion. The second phase was the attainment, as outer 
 
PHENOMENOLOGY OF THE SPIRIT 625 
 
 activity and communion. Returned from this outer activity, 
 consciousness has now reached the stage where it has experi- 
 enced its own actuality and power, where it knows in truth 
 that it is fully self-possessed. But now the enemy comes to light 
 in his most genuine form. In the struggle of the inner life the 
 individual had existence only as an abstraction, as "passed in 
 music out of sight." In service and in communion, as the realiza- 
 tion of this unreal selfhood, it is able in its immediate experi- 
 ence to forget itself, and its consciousness of its own merit in 
 this actual service is turned to humiliation through the act of 
 thankful acknowledgment. But this humiliation is in truth a 
 return of consciousness to itself, and to itself as the possessor of 
 its own actuality. 
 
 This third relationship, wherein this genuine actuality is to be 
 one term, is that relationship of the actuality to the Universal, 
 wherein the actuality is nevertheless to appear as an Unreality ; 
 and the process of this relationship is still to be considered, 
 
 In the first place, as regards the conflicting relationship of 
 consciousness, wherein its own reality appears to it as an obvious 
 nothingness, the result is that its actual work seems to it a doing 
 of naught, and its satisfaction is but a sense of its misery. Work 
 and satisfaction thus lose all universal content and meaning; 
 for if they had any, then they would involve a full self-possession. 
 Both of them sink to the level of individuality; and conscious- 
 ness, turning upon this individuality, devotes itself to making 
 naught of it. Consciousness of an actual individual is a con- 
 sciousness of the mere animal functions of the body. These 
 latter are no longer naively carried out as something that is 
 altogether 'of no moment, and that can have no weight or sig- 
 nificance for the spirit ; on the contrary, they become the object 
 of earnest concern, and are of the very weightiest moment. The 
 enemy arises anew in his defeat. Consciousness holds him in 
 eye, yet frees itself not from him, but rather dwells upon the 
 sight, and sees constantly its own uncleanness. And because, 
 at the same time, this object of its striving, instead of being sig- 
 nificant, is of the most contemptible, instead of being an uni- 
 versal is of the most individual, we therefore behold at this stage 
 
626 HEGEL 
 
 only a brooding, unhappy and fniserable personality, limited 
 solely to himself and his little deeds. 
 
 But all the while this person links both to the sense of his 
 misery and to the worthlessness of his deeds, the consciousness 
 that he is one with the Ideal. For the attempted direct destruc- 
 tion of individuality is determined by the thought of the Ideal, 
 and takes place for the sake of the Ideal. This relation of de- 
 pendence constitutes the essence of the negative onslaught upon 
 individuality. But the dependence is as such potentially posi- 
 tive, and will bring consciousness to a sense of its own unity. 
 
 This determinate dependence is the rational Tie, whereby 
 the individual who at first holds fast by his opposition to the true 
 Self, is still linked to the other term, yet only by means of a 
 third element. This mediating element reveals the true Self to 
 the false Self, which in its turn knows that in the eyes of the true 
 Self it has existence only by virtue of the dependence. It is the 
 dependence then which reveals the two terms of the relation- 
 ship to one another, and which, as Mediator, takes the part of 
 each one of the terms in presence of the other. The Mediator 
 too is a conscious Being, for its work is the production of this 
 consciousness as such. What it brings to pass is that overcoming 
 of individuality which consciousness is undertaking. 
 
 Through the Mediator, then, Consciousness frees itself from 
 regarding its good works and its communion as due to its private 
 merit. It rejects all claim to independence of will. It casts upon 
 the Mediator, the intercessor, the burden of its self-will, its 
 freedom of choice, and its sins. The Mediator, dwelling in the 
 immediate presence of the Ideal, gives counsel as to what is to 
 be done. And what is done, being in submission to the will of 
 another, is no longer one's own act. What is still left to the 
 untrue Self is the objective result of the deed, the fruit of the 
 toil, the satisfaction. But this too it refuses to accept as its own, 
 and resigns not only its self-will, but the actual outcome of its 
 service and its satisfaction. It resigns this outcome, first, because 
 the latter would involve an attainment of self-conscious truth 
 and independence (and this consciousness lives in the thought 
 and the speech of a strange and incomprehensible mystery). 
 
PHENOMENOLOGY OF THE SPIRIT 627 
 
 Secondly, moreover, it resigns the outcome in so 'far as the latter 
 consists of worldly goods, and so it abandons, in a measure, 
 whatever it has earned by its labor. Thirdly, it resigns all the 
 satisfaction which has fallen to its lot, forbidding itself such 
 satisfaction through fasting and through penance. 
 
 By these characteristics, by the surrender of self-will, of 
 property, and of satisfaction, and by the further and positive 
 characteristic of its undertaking of a mysterious task, conscious- 
 ness does in truth (tree itsel|/completely from any sense of inner 
 or outer freedom, from any trust in the reality of its independ- 
 ence. It is sure that it has verily surrendered its Ego, and has 
 reduced its natural self-consciousness to a mere thing, to a fact 
 amongst facts. Only by such a genuine self-surrender could 
 consciousness prove its own resignation. For only thus does 
 there vanish the deceit that lies in the inner offering of thanks 
 with the heart, with the sentiments, with the lips. Such offering 
 does indeed strip from the individual all independent might, 
 and ascribes all the glory to the heavenly Giver. But the indi- 
 vidual even when thus stripped, retains his outer self-will, for 
 he abandons not his possessions ; and he retains his inner self- 
 will, for he is aware that it is he who undertakes this self-sacrifice, 
 and who has in himself the virtue involved in such an under- 
 taking, a virtue which he has not exchanged for the mysterious 
 grace that cometh from above. 
 
 But in the genuine resignation, when once it has come to pass, 
 consciousness, in laying aside the burden of its own deeds, has 
 also, in effect, laid aside the burden of its grief. Yet that this 
 laying aside has already, in effect, taken place, is due to the 
 deed of the other member of the Tie, namely to the essential 
 Self. The sacrifice of the unreal Self was made not by its own 
 one-sided act, but involved the working of the Other's grace. 
 For the resignation of self-will is only in part negative, and on 
 the other hand involves in its very notion, or in its beginning, 
 the positive transformation of the will, and, in particular, its 
 transformation from an individual into an universal will. Con- 
 sciousness finds this positive meaning of the denial of self-will 
 to consist in the will of the Changeless, as this will is done, not 
 
628 HEGEL 
 
 by consciousness itself, but through the counsel of the Mediator. 
 Consciousness becomes aware, then, that its will is universal 
 and essential, but it does not regard itself as identical with this 
 essential nature. Self-resignation is not seen to be in its very 
 notion identical with the positive work of the universal will. 
 In the same way the abandonment of possession and of satis- 
 faction has only the same negative significance, and the uni- 
 versal that thus comes in sight does not appear to consciousness 
 as its own deed. The unity of truth and of self-possession im- 
 plied in the notion of this activity, an unity which consciousness 
 accordingly regards as its essence and its reality, is not recog- 
 nized as implied in this very notion* Nor is the unity recognized 
 by consciousness as its own self-created and immediately pos- 
 sessed object. Rather does consciousness only hear, spoken by 
 the mediator's voice, the still fragile assurance that its own grief 
 is, in the yet hidden truth of the matter, the very reverse, namely 
 the bliss of an activity which rejoices in its tasks, that its own 
 miserable deeds are, in the same hidden truth, the perfect work. 
 And the real meaning of this assurance is that only what is done 
 by an individual is or can be [ueberhaupt] a deed. But for con- 
 sciousness both activity and its own actual deeds remain mis- 
 erable. Its satisfaction is its sorrow, and the freedom from this 
 sorrow, in a positive joy, it looks for in another world. But this 
 other world, where its activity and its being are to become, 
 even while they remain its own, real activity and being, what 
 is this world but the image of REASON, of the assurance of 
 Consciousness that in its individuality it is and possesses all 
 Reality? 
 
ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER 
 
 (1788-1860) 
 
 THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 
 
 Translated from the German * by 
 R. B. HALDANE and J. KEMP 
 
 BOOK I. THE WORLD AS IDEA 
 
 i. "THE world is my idea:" this is a truth which holds 
 good for everything that lives and knows, though man alone 
 can bring it into reflective and abstract consciousness. If he 
 really does this, he has attained to philosophical wisdom. It 
 then becomes clear and certain to him that what he knows is not 
 a sun and an earth, but only an eye that sees a sun, a hand that 
 feels an earth ; that the world which surrounds him is there only 
 as idea, I. e., only in relation to something else, the consciousness, 
 which is himself. If any truth can be asserted a priori, it is this : 
 for it is the expression of the most general form of all possible 
 and thinkable experience: a form which is more general than 
 time, or space, or causality, for they a v ll presuppose it ; and each 
 of these, which we have seen to be just so many modes of the 
 principle of sufficient reason, is valid only for a particular class 
 of ideas; whereas the antithesis of object and subject is the 
 common form of all these classes, is that form under which alone 
 any idea of whatever kind it may be, abstract or intuitive, pure 
 or empirical, is possible and thinkable. No truth therefore is 
 more certain, more independent of all others, and less in need 
 of proof than this, that all that exists for knowledge, and there- 
 fore this whole world, is only object in relation to subject, per- 
 ception of a perceiver, in a word, idea. This is obviously true 
 of the past and the future, as well as of the present, of what is 
 farthest off, as of what is near; for it is true of time and space 
 
 * From Die Welt als Willeund Vorstellung, Leipzig, 1819 ; 3. Aufl. 1859. Re- 
 printed here from A. Schopenhauer's The World as Will and Idea, translated by 
 R. B. Haldane and J. Kemp, London, Triibner & Co., 1883, vol. i. 
 
630 ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER 
 
 themselves, in which alone these distinctions arise. All that in 
 any way belongs or can' belong to the world is inevitably thus 
 conditioned through the subject, and exists only for the subject. 
 The world is idea. 
 
 This truth is by no means new. It was implicitly involved 
 in the sceptical reflections from which Descartes started. Berke- 
 ley, however, was the first who distinctly enunciated it, -and by 
 this he has rendered a permanent service to philosophy, even 
 though the rest^of his teaching should not endure. Kant's pri- 
 mary mistake was the neglect of this principle, as is shown in the 
 appendix. How early again this truth was recognised by the 
 wise men of India, appearing indeed as the fundamental tenet 
 of the Vedanta philosophy ascribed to Vyasa, is pointed out by 
 Sir William Jones in the last of his essays : On the Philosophy 
 of the Asiatics (" Asiatic Researches, " vol. iv, p. 164), where he 
 says, "The fundamental tenet of the Vedanta school consisted 
 not in denying the existence of matter, that is, of solidity, im- 
 penetrability, and extended figure (to deny which would be 
 lunacy), but in correcting the popular notion of it, and in con- 
 tending that it has no essence independent of mental perception ; 
 that existence and perceptibility are convertible terms." These 
 words adequately express the compatibility of empirical reality 
 and transcendental ideality. 
 
 In this first book, then, we consider the world only from this 
 side, only so far as it is idea. The inward reluctance with which 
 any one accepts the world as merely his idea, warns him that 
 this view of it, however true it may be, is nevertheless one-sided, 
 adopted in consequence of some arbitrary abstraction. And yet 
 it is a conception from which he can never free himself. The 
 defectiveness of this view will be corrected in the next book by 
 means of a truth which is not so immediately certain as that 
 from which we start here ; a truth at which we can arrive only 
 by deeper research and more severe abstraction, by the separa- 
 tion of what is different and the union of what is identical. This 
 truth, which must be very serious and impressive if not awful 
 to every one, is that a man can also say and must say, " The 
 world is my will." 
 
THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 631 
 
 In this book, however, we must consider separately that as- 
 pect of the world from which we start, its aspect as knowable, 
 and therefore, in the meantime, we must, without reserve, re- 
 gard all presented objects, even our own bodies (as* we shall 
 presently show more fully), merely as ideas, and call them 
 merely ideas. By so doing we always abstract from will (as we 
 hope to make clear to every one further on), which by itself con- 
 stitutes the other aspect of the world. For as the world is ih one 
 aspect entirely idea, so in another it is entirely will. A reality 
 which is neither of these two, but an object in itself (into which 
 the thing in itself has unfortunately dwindled in the hands of 
 Kant), is the phantom of a dream, and its acceptance is an ignis 
 jatuus in philosophy. 
 
 2. That which knows all things and is known by none is 
 the subject. Thus it is the supporter of the world, that condition 
 of all phenomena, of all objects which is always presupposed 
 throughout experience ; for all that exists, exists only for the 
 subject. Every one finds himself to be subject, yet only hi so 
 far as he knows, not in so far as he is an object of knowledge. 
 But his body is object, and therefore from this point of view we 
 call it idea. For the body is an object among objects and is con- 
 ditioned by the laws of objects, although it is an immediate 
 object. Like all objects of perception, it lies within the universal 
 forms of knowledge, time and space, which are the conditions 
 of multiplicity. The subject, on the contrary, which is always 
 the knower, never the known, does not come under these forms, 
 but is presupposed by them ; it has therefore neither multiplicity 
 nor its opposite unity. We never know it, but it is always the 
 knower wherever there is knowledge. 
 
 So then the world as idea, the only aspect in which we con- 
 sider it at present, has two fundamental, necessary, and insep- 
 arable halves. The one half is the object, the forms of which 
 are space and time, and through these multiplicity. The other 
 half is the subject, which is not in space and time, for it is pre- 
 sent, entire and undivided, in every percipient being. So that 
 any one percipient being, with the object, constitutes the whole 
 world as idea just as fully as the existing millions could do ; but 
 
632 ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER 
 
 if this one were to disappear, then the whole world as idea would 
 cease to be. These halves are therefore inseparable even for 
 thought, for each of the two has meaning and existence only 
 through and for the other, each appears with the other and van- 
 ishes with it. They limit each other immediately; where the 
 object begins the subject ends. The universality of this limita- 
 tion is shown by the fact that the- essential and hence universal 
 forms of all objects, space, time, and causality, may, without 
 knowledge of the object, be discovered and fully known from a 
 consideration of the subject, i. e., in Kantian language, they lie 
 a priori in our consciousness. That he discovered this is one of 
 Kant's principal merits, and it is a great one. I however go be- 
 yond this, and maintain that the principle of sufficient reason 
 is the general expression for all these forms of the object of which 
 we are a priori conscious; and that therefore all that we know 
 purely a priori, is merely the content of that principle and what 
 follows from it; in it all our certain a priori knowledge is ex- 
 pressed. In my essay on the principle of sufficient reason I have 
 shown in detail how every possible object comes under it ; that 
 is, stands in a necessary relation to other objects, on the one side 
 as determined, on the other side as determining: this is of such 
 wide application, that the whole existence of all objects, so far 
 as they are objects, ideas and nothing more, may be entirely 
 traced to this their necessary relation to each other, rests only 
 in it, is in fact merely relative; but of this more presently. I 
 have further shown, that the necessary relation which the prin- 
 ciple of sufficient reason expresses generally, appears in other 
 forms corresponding to the classes into which objects are divided, 
 according to their possibility ; and again that by these forms the 
 proper division of the classes is tested. I take it for granted that 
 what I said in this earlier essay is known and present to the 
 reader, for if it had not been already said it would necessarily 
 find its place here. 
 
 5. It is needful to guard against the grave error of sup- 
 posing that because perception arises through the knowledge 
 of causality, the relation of subject and object is that of cause 
 and effect. For this relation subsists only between the immediate 
 
THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 633 
 
 object and objects known indirectly, thus always between ob- 
 jects alone. It is this false supposition that has given rise to the 
 foolish controversy about the reality of the outer world ; a con- 
 troversy in which dogmatism and scepticism oppose each other, 
 and the former appears, now as realism, now as idealism. Real- 
 ism treats the object as cause, and the subject as its effect. The 
 idealism of Fichte reduces the object to the effect of the subject. 
 Since however, and this cannot be too much emphasised, there 
 is absolutely no relation according to the principle of sufficient 
 reason between subject and object, neither of these views could 
 be proved, and therefore scepticism attacked them both with 
 success. Now, just as the law of causality precedes perception 
 and experience as their condition, and therefore cannot (as 
 Hume thought) be derived from them, so object and subject 
 precede all knowledge, and hence the principle of sufficient 
 reason in general, as its first condition ; for this principle is merely 
 the form of all objects, the whole nature and possibility of their 
 existence as phenomena: but the object always presupposes 
 the subject; and therefore between these two there can be no 
 relation of reason and consequent. My essay * on the principle 
 of sufficient reason accomplishes just this : it explains the content 
 of that principle as the essential form of every object that is 
 to say, as the universal nature of all objective existence, as some- 
 thing which pertains to the object as such; but the object as 
 such always presupposes the subject as its necessary correlative ; 
 and therefore the subject remains always outside the province 
 in which the principle of sufficient reason is valid. The con- 
 troversy as to the reality of the outer world rests upon this false 
 extension of the validity of the principle of sufficient reason to 
 the subject also, and starting with this mistake it can never 
 understand itself. On the one side realistic dogmatism, looking 
 upon the idea as the effect of the object, desires to separate these 
 two, idea and object, which are really one, and to assume a cause 
 
 * Ueber die vierfache Wurzel des Satzes vom Zureichenden Grunde. Rudolst. 
 1813. English, Two Essays by Schopenhauer: I. On the Fourfold Root of the 
 Principle of Sufficient Reason; II. On the Will of Nature. A literal translation, 
 London, 1889. 
 
634 ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER 
 
 different from the idea, an object in itself, independent of 
 the subject, a thing which is quite inconceivable; for even as 
 object it presupposes subject, and so remains its idea. Opposed 
 to this doctrine is scepticism, which makes the same false pre- 
 supposition that in the idea we have only the effect, never the 
 cause, therefore never real being; that we always know merely 
 the action of the object. But this object, it supposes, may per- 
 haps have no resemblance whatever to its effect, may indeed 
 have been quite erroneously received as the cause, for the law 
 of causality is first to be gathered from experience, and the 
 reality of experience is then made to rest upon it. Thus both of 
 these views are open to the correction, firstly, that object and 
 idea are the same ; secondly, that the true being of the object of 
 perception is its action, that the reality of the thing consists in 
 this, and the demand for an existence of the object outside the 
 idea of the subject, and also for an essence of the actual thing 
 different from its action, has absolutely no meaning, and is 
 contradiction : and that the knowledge of the nature of the effect 
 of any perceived object, exhausts such an object itself, so far as 
 it is object, i. e., idea, for beyond this there is nothing more to 
 be known. So far then, the perceived world in space and time, 
 which makes itself known as causation alone, is entirely real, 
 and is throughout simply what it appears to be, and it appears 
 wholly and without reserve as idea, bound together according 
 to the law of causality. This is its empirical reality. On the 
 other hand, all causality is in the understanding alone, and for 
 the understanding. The whole actual, that is, active world is 
 determined as such through the understanding, and apart from 
 it is nothing. This, however, is not the only reason for altogether 
 denying such a reality of the outer world as is taught by the dog- 
 matist, who explains its reality as its independence of the subject. 
 We also deny it, because no object apart from a subject can be 
 conceived without contradiction. The whole world of objects 
 is and remains idea, and therefore wholly and for ever deter- 
 mined by the subject ; that is to say, it has transcendental ideal- 
 ity. But it is not therefore illusion or mere appearance ; it pre- 
 sents itself as that which it is, idea, and indeed as a series of ideas 
 
THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 635 
 
 of which the common bond is the principle of sufficient reason. 
 It is according to its inmost meaning quite comprehensible to 
 the healthy understanding, and speaks a language quite intelli- 
 gible to it. To dispute about its reality can only occur to a mind 
 perverted by over-subtilty, and such discussion always arises 
 from a false application of the principle of sufficient reason, 
 which binds all ideas together of whatever kind they may be, 
 but by no means connects them with the subject, nor yet with 
 a something which is neither subject nor object, but only the 
 ground of the object ; an absurdity, for only objects can be and 
 always are the ground of objects. If we examine more closely 
 the source of this question as to the reality of the outer world, 
 we find that besides the false application of the principle of 
 sufficient reason generally to what lies beyond its province, a 
 special confusion of its forms is also involved; for that form 
 which it has only in reference to concepts or abstract ideas, is 
 applied to perceived ideas, real objects ; and a ground of know- 
 ing is demanded of objects, whereas they can have nothing but a 
 ground of being. Among the abstract ideas, the concepts united 
 in the judgment, the principle of sufficient reason appears in 
 such a way that each of these has its worth, its validity, and its 
 whole existence, here called truth, simply and solely through 
 the relation of the judgment to something outside of it, its 
 ground of knowledge, to which there must consequently always 
 be a return. Among real objects, ideas of perception, on the 
 other hand, the principle of sufficient reason appears not as the 
 principle of the ground of knowing, but of being, as the law of 
 causality : every real object has paid its debt to it, inasmuch as 
 it has come to be, i. e., has appeared as the effect of a cause. 
 The demand for a ground of knowing has therefore here no 
 application and no meaning, but belongs to quite another class 
 of things. Thus the world of perception raises in the observer 
 no question or doubt so long as he remains in contact with it : 
 there is here neither error nor truth, for these are confined to 
 the province of the abstract the province of reflection. But 
 here the world lies open for sense and understanding; presents 
 itself with naive truth as that which it really is ideas of per- 
 
636 ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER 
 
 ception which develop themselves according to the law of caus- 
 ality. 
 
 So far as we have considered the question of the reality of the 
 outer world, it arises from a confusion which amounts even to a 
 misunderstanding of reason itself, and therefore thus far, the 
 question could be answered only by explaining its meaning. 
 After examination of the whole nature of the principle of suffi- 
 cient reason, of the relation of subject and object, and the special 
 conditions of sense perception, the question itself disappeared 
 because it had no longer any meaning. There is, however, one 
 other possible origin of this question, quite different from the 
 purely speculative one which we have considered, a specially 
 empirical origin, though the question is always raised from a 
 speculative point of view, and in this form it has a much more 
 comprehensible meaning than it had in the first. We have 
 dreams ; may not our whole life be a dream ? or more exactly : 
 is there a sure criterion of the distinction between dreams and 
 reality? between phantasms and real objects? The assertion 
 that what is dreamt is less vivid and distinct than what we ac- 
 tually perceive is not to the point, because no one has ever been 
 able to make a fair comparison of the two ; for we can only com- 
 pare the recollection of a dream with the present reality. Kant 
 answers the question thus: "The connection of ideas among 
 themselves, according to the law of causality, constitutes the 
 difference between real life and dreams." But in dreams, as 
 well as in real life, everything is connected individually at any 
 rate, in accordance with the principle of sufficient reason in all 
 its forms, and this connection is broken only between life and 
 dreams, or between one dream and another. Kant's answer 
 therefore could only run thus : the long dream (life) has 
 throughout complete connection according to the principle of 
 sufficient reason ; it has not this connection, however, with short 
 dreams, although each of these has in itself the same connection : 
 the bridge is therefore broken between the former and the latter, 
 and on this account we distinguish them. 
 
 But to institute an enquiry according to this criterion, as to 
 whether something was dreamt or seen, would always be dim- 
 
THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 637 
 
 cult and often impossible. For we are by no means in a position 
 to trace link by link the causal connection between any expe- 
 rienced event and the present moment, but we do not on that 
 account explain it as dreamt. Therefore in real life we do not 
 commonly employ that method of distinguishing between dreams 
 and reality. The only sure criterion by which to distinguish 
 them is in fact the entirely empirical one of awaking, through 
 which at any rate the causal connection between dreamed events 
 and those of waking life, is distinctly and sensibly broken off. 
 This is strongly supported by the remark of Hobbes in the second 
 chapter of Leviathan, that we easily mistake dreams for reality 
 if we have unintentionally fallen asleep without taking off our 
 clothes, and much more so when it also happens that some 
 undertaking or design fills all our thoughts, and occupies our 
 dream's as well as our waking moments. We then observe the 
 awaking just as little as the falling asleep, dream and reality 
 run together and become confounded. In such a case there is 
 nothing for it but the application of Kant's criterion; but if, as 
 often happens, we fail to establish by means of this criterion, 
 either the existence of causal connection with the present, or 
 the absence of such connection, then it must for ever remain 
 uncertain whether an event was dreamt or really happened. 
 Here, in fact, the intimate relationship between life and dreams 
 is brought out very clearly, and we need not be ashamed to con- 
 fess it, as it has been recognised and spoken of by many great 
 men. The Vedas and Puranas have no better simile than a 
 dream for the whole knowledge of the actual world, which they 
 call the web of Maya, and they use none more frequently. Plato 
 often says that men live only in a dream ; the philosopher alone 
 strives to awake himself. Pindar says (ii. >?. 135) : <r/aas ovap a 
 TTO<: (umbrae somnium homo), and Sophocles: 
 
 'Opa> yap ^uos ovficv ovras &\\o, ir\}]v 
 
 ' ocronrep CoD/iey, % Koixpyv <TKIO.V. Ajax, 125. 
 
 (Nos enim, quicunque vivimus, nihil aliud esse comperio quam 
 simulacra et levem umbram.) Beside which most worthily 
 stands Shakespeare : 
 
638 ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER 
 
 "We are such stuff 
 
 As dreams are made on, and our little life 
 Is rounded with a sleep." Tempest, Act iv. Sc. i. 
 
 Lastly, Calderon was so deeply impressed with this view of life 
 that he sought to embody it in a kind of metaphysical drama 
 "Life a Dream." 
 
 After these numerous quotations from the poets, perhaps I 
 also may be allowed to express myself by a metaphor. Life and 
 dreams are leaves of the same book. The systematic reading 
 of this book is real life, but when the reading hours (that is, the 
 day) are over, we often continue idly to turn over the leaves, 
 and read a page here and there without method or connection : 
 often one we have read before, sometimes one that is new to us, 
 but always in the same book. Such an isolated page is indeed 
 out of connection with the systematic study of the book, but it 
 does not seem so very different when we remember that the 
 whole continuous perusal begins and ends just as abruptly, and 
 may therefore be regarded as merely a larger single page. 
 
 Thus although individual dreams are distinguished from real 
 life by the fact that they do not fit into that continuity which runs 
 through the whole of experience, and the act of aw r aking brings 
 this into consciousness, yet that very continuity of experience 
 belongs to real life as its form, and the dream on its part can 
 point to a similar continuity in itself. If, therefore, we consider 
 the question from a point of view external to both, there is no 
 distinct difference in their nature, and we are forced to concede 
 to the poets that life is a long dream. 
 
 Let us turn back now from this quite independent empirical 
 origin of the question of the reality of the outer world, to its 
 speculative origin. We found that this consisted, first, in the 
 false application of the principle of sufficient reason to the rela- 
 tion of subject and object ; and secondly, in the confusion of its 
 forms, inasmuch as the principle of sufficient reason of knowing 
 was extended to a province in which the principle of sufficient 
 reason of being is valid. But the question could hardly have 
 occupied philosophers so constantly if it were entirely devoid 
 of all real content, and if some true thought and meaning did 
 
THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 639 
 
 not lie at its heart as its real source. Accordingly, we must as- 
 sume that when the element of truth that lies at the bottom of 
 the question first came into reflection and sought its expression, 
 it became involved in these confused and meaningless forms 
 and problems. This at least is my opinion, and I think that the 
 true expression of that inmost meaning of the question, which 
 it failed to find, is this : What is this world of perception be- 
 sides being my idea? Is that of which I am conscious only as 
 idea, exactly like my own body, of which I am doubly conscious, 
 in one aspect as idea, in another aspect as will ? The fuller ex- 
 planation of this question and its answer in the affirmative, will 
 form the content of the second book, and its consequences will 
 occupy the remaining portion of this work. 
 
 BOOK II. THE OBJECTIFICATION OF THE 
 
 WILL 
 
 17. ... What now impels us to inquiry is, that we are not 
 satisfied with knowing that we have ideas, that they are such 
 and such, and that they are connected according to certain laws, 
 the general expression of which is the principle of sufficient rea- 
 son. We wish to know the significance of these ideas ; we ask 
 whether this world is merely idea; in which case it would pass 
 by us like an empty dream or a baseless vision, not worth our 
 notice ; or whether it is also something else, something more than 
 idea, and if so, what. Thus much is certain, that this something 
 we seek for must be completely and in its whole nature different 
 from the idea ; that the forms and laws of the idea must therefore 
 be completely foreign to it ; further, that we cannot arrive at it 
 from the idea under the guidance of the laws which merely com- 
 bine objects, ideas, among themselves, and which are the forms 
 of the principle of sufficient reason. 
 
 Thus we see already that we can never arrive at the real na- 
 ture of things from without. However much we investigate, we 
 can never reach anything but images and names. We are like a 
 man who goes round a castle seeking in vain for an entrance, 
 
640 ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER 
 
 and sometimes sketching the facades. And yet this is the method 
 that has been followed by all philosophers before me. 
 
 1 8. In fact, the meaning for which we seek of that world 
 which is present to us only as our idea, or the transition from 
 the world as mere idea of the knowing subject to whatever it 
 may be besides this, would never be found if the investigator 
 himself -were nothing more than the pure knowing subject (a 
 winged cherub without a body). But he is himself rooted in that 
 world ; he finds himself in it as an individual, that is to say, his 
 knowledge, which is the necessary supporter of the whole world 
 as idea, is yet always given through the medium of a body, whose 
 affections are, as we have shown, the starting-point for the 
 understanding in the perception of that world. His body is, for 
 the pure knowing subject, an idea like every other idea, an object 
 among objects. Its movements and actions are so far known to 
 him in precisely the same way as the changes of all other per- 
 ceived objects, and would be just as .strange and incomprehen- 
 sible to him if their meaning were not explained for him in an 
 entirely different way. Otherwise he would see his actions fol- 
 low upon given motives with the constancy of a law of nature, 
 just as the changes of other objects follow upon causes, stimuli, 
 or motives. But he would not understand the influence of the 
 motives any more than the connection between every other effect 
 which he sees and its cause. He would then call the inner nature 
 of these manifestations and actions of his body which he did not 
 understand a force, a quality, or a character, as he pleased, but 
 he would have no further insight into it. But all this is not the 
 case ; indeed the answer to the riddle is given to the subject of 
 knowledge who appears as an individual, and the answer is will. 
 This and this alone gives him the key to his own existence, re- 
 veals to him the significance, shows him the inner mechanism 
 of his being, of his action, of his movements. The body is given 
 in two entirely different ways to the subject of knowledge, who 
 becomes an individual only through his identity with it. It is 
 given as an idea in intelligent perception, as an object among 
 objects and subject to the laws of objects. And it is also given 
 in quite a different way as that which is immediately known to 
 
THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 641 
 
 every one, and is signified by the word will. Every true act of 
 his will is also at once and without exception a movement of his 
 body. The act of will and the movement of the body are not two 
 different things objectively known, which the bond of causality 
 unites ; they do not stand hi the relation of cause and effect ; they 
 are one and the same, but they are given in entirely different 
 ways, immediately, and again in perception for the under- 
 standing. The action of the body is nothing but the act of the 
 will objectified, i. e., passed into perception. It will appear later 
 that this is true of every movement of the body, not merely those 
 which follow upon motives, but also involuntary movements 
 which follow upcn mere stimuli, and, indeed, that the whole 
 body is nothing but objectified will, i. e., will become idea. All 
 this will be proved and made quite clear in the course of this 
 work. In one respect, therefore, I shall call the body the objec- 
 tivity of will; as in the previous book, and in the essay on the 
 principle of sufficient reason, in accordance with the one-sided 
 point of view intentionally adopted there (that of the idea), I 
 called it the immediate object. Thus in a certain sense we may 
 also say that will is the knowledge a priori of the body, and the 
 body is the knowledge a posteriori of the will. Resolutions of 
 the will which relate to the future are merely deliberations of 
 the reason about what we shall will at a particular time, not real 
 acts of will. Only the carrying out of the resolve stamps it as 
 will, for till then it is never more than an intention that may be 
 changed, and that exists only in the reason in abstracto. It is 
 only in reflection that to will and to act are different ; in reality 
 they are one. Every true, genuine, immediate act of will is also, 
 at once and immediately, a visible act of the body. And, corre- 
 sponding to this, every impression upcn the body is also, on the 
 other hand, at once and immediately an impression upon the 
 will. As such it is called pain when it is opposed to the will ; 
 gratification or pleasure when it is in accordance with it. The 
 degrees of both are widely different. It is quite wrong, however, 
 to call pain and pleasure ideas, for they are by no means ideas, 
 but immediate affections of the will in its manifestation, the 
 body; compulsory, instantaneous willing or not-willing of the 
 
642 ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER 
 
 impression which the body sustains. There are only a few im- 
 pressions of the body which do not touch the will, and it is 
 through these alone that the body is an immediate object of 
 knowledge, for, as perceived by the understanding, it is already 
 an indirect object like all others. These impressions are, there- 
 fore, to be treated directly as mere ideas, and excepted from 
 what has been said. The impressions we refer to are the affec- 
 tions of the purely objective senses of sight, hearing, and touch, 
 though only so far as these organs are affected in the way which 
 is specially peculiar to their specific nature. This affection of 
 them is so excessively weak an excitement of the heightened and 
 specifically modified sensibility of these parts that it does not 
 affect the will, but only furnishes the understanding with the 
 data out of which the perception arises, undisturbed by any 
 excitement of the will. But every stronger or different kind of 
 affection of these organs of sense is painful, that is to say, against 
 the will, and thus they also belong to its objectivity. Weakness 
 of the nerves shows itself in this, that the impressions which 
 have only such a degree of strength as would usually be sufficient 
 to make them data for the understanding reach the higher degree 
 at which they influence the will, that is to say, give pain or plea- 
 sure, though more often pain, which is, however, to some extent 
 deadened and inarticulate, so that not only particular tones and 
 strong light are painful to us, but there ensues a generally un- 
 healthy and hypochondriacal disposition which is not distinctly 
 understood. The identity of the body and the will shows itself 
 further, among other ways, in the circumstance that every vehe- 
 ment and excessive movement of the will, i. e., every emotion, 
 agitates the body and its inner constitution directly, and disturbs 
 the course of its vital functions. This is shown in detail in "Will 
 in Nature," p. 27 of the second edition and p. 28 of the third. 
 
 Lastly, the knowledge which I have of my will, though it is 
 immediate, cannot be separated from that which I have of my 
 body. I know my will, not as a whole, not as a unity, not com- 
 pletely, according to its nature, but I know it only in its particu- 
 lar acts, and therefore in time, which is the form of the phe- 
 nomenal aspect of my body, as of every object. Therefore the 
 
THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 643 
 
 body is a condition of the knowledge of my will. Thus, I cannot 
 really imagine this will apart from my body. In the essay on the 
 principle of sufficient reason, the will, or rather the subject of 
 willing, is treated as a special class of ideas or objects. But even 
 there we saw this object become one with the subject; that is, 
 we saw it cease to be an object. We there called this union the 
 miracle xar e^ox^v, and the whole of the present work is to a 
 certain extent an explanation of this. So far as I know my will 
 specially as object, I know it as body. But then I am again at 
 the first class of ideas laid down in that essay, i. e., real objects. 
 As we proceed we shall see always more clearly that these ideas 
 of the first class obtain their explanation and solution from those 
 of the fourth class given in the essay, which could no longer be 
 properly opposed to the subject as object, and that, therefore, 
 we must learn to understand the inner nature of the law of caus- 
 ality which is valid in the first class, and of all that happens in 
 accordance with it from the law of motivation which governs 
 the fourth class. 
 
 The identity of the will and the body, of which we have now 
 given a cursory explanation, can only be proved in the manner 
 we have adopted here. We have proved this identity for the first 
 time, and sjiall do so more and more fully in the course of this 
 work. By " proved" we mean raised from the immediate con- 
 sciousness, from knowledge in the concrete to abstract know- 
 ledge of the reason, or carried over into abstract knowledge. 
 On the other hand, from its very nature it can never be demon- 
 strated, that is, deduced as indirect knowledge from some other 
 more direct knowledge, just because it is itself the most direct 
 knowledge ; and if we do not apprehend it and stick to it as such, 
 we shall expect in vain to receive it again in some indirect way as 
 derivative knowledge. It is knowledge of quite a special kind, 
 whose truth cannot therefore properly be brought under any of 
 the four rubrics under which I have classified all truth in the 
 essay on the principle of sufficient reason, 29, the logical, the 
 empirical, the metaphysical, and the metalogical, for it is not, 
 like all these, the relation of an abstract idea to another idea, 
 or to the necessary form of perceptive or of abstract ideation, 
 
644 ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER 
 
 but it is the relation of a judgment to the connection which an 
 idea of perception, the body, has to that which is not an idea at 
 all, but something toto genere different, will. I should like there- 
 fore to distinguish this from all other truth, and call it 
 KO.T cgoxtv philosophical truth. We can turn the expression of 
 this truth in different ways and say : My body ancj my will are 
 one ; or, What as an idea of perception I call my body, I call 
 my will, so far as I am conscious of it in an entirely different 
 way which cannot be compared to any other ; or, My body 
 is the objectivity of my will ; or, My body considered apart 
 from the fact that it is my idea is still my will, and so forth. 
 
 19. In the first book we were reluctantly driven to explain 
 the human body as merely idea of the subject which knows it, 
 like all the other objects of this world of perception. But it has 
 now become clear that what enables us consciously to distinguish 
 our own body from all other objects which in other respects are 
 precisely the same, is that our body appears in consciousness 
 in quite another way toto genere different from idea, and this we 
 denote by the word will ; and that it is just this double know- 
 ledge which we have of our own body that affords us informa- 
 tion about it, about its action and movement following on motives 
 and also about what it experiences by means of external im- 
 pressions ; in a word, about what is it, not as idea, but as more 
 than idea; that is to say, what it is in itself. None of this in- 
 formation have we got directly with regard to the nature, action, 
 and experience of other real objects. 
 
 It is just because of this special relation to one body that the 
 knowing subject is an individual. For regarded apart from this 
 relation, his body is for him, only an idea like all other ideas. 
 But the relation through which the knowing subject is an indi- 
 vidual, is just on that account a relation which subsists only 
 between him and one particular idea of all those which he has. 
 Therefore he is conscious of this one idea, not merely as an idea, 
 but in quite a different way as a will. If, however, he abstracts 
 from that special relation, from that twofold and completely 
 heterogeneous knowledge of what is one and the same, then 
 that one, the body, is an idea like all other ideas. Therefore, in 
 
THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 645 
 
 order to understand the matter, the individual who knows must 
 either assume that what distinguishes that one idea from others 
 is merely the fact that his knowledge stands in this double rela- 
 tion to it alone ; that insight in two ways at the same time is open 
 to him only in the case of this one object of perception, and that 
 this is to be explained not by the difference of this object from 
 all others, but only by the difference between the relation of his 
 knowledge to this one object, and its relation to all other objects. 
 Or else he must assume that this object is essentially different 
 from all others ; that it alone of all objects is at once both will 
 and idea, while the rest are only ideas, i. e., only phantoms. Thus 
 he must assume that his body is the only real individual in the 
 world, i. e., the only phenomenon of will and the only immediate 
 object of the subject. That other objects, considered merely as 
 ideas, are like his body, that is, like it, fill space (which itself 
 can only be present as idea), and also, like it, are causally active 
 in space, is indeed demonstrably certain from the law of caus- 
 ality which is a priori valid for ideas, and which admits of no 
 effect without a cause ; but apart from the fact that we can only 
 reason from an effect to a cause generally, and not to a similar 
 cause, we are still in the sphere of mere ideas, in which alone 
 the law of causality is valid, and beyond which it can never take 
 us. But whether the objects known to the individual only as 
 ideas are yet, like his own body, manifestations of a will, is, as 
 was said in the First Book, the proper meaning of the question 
 as to the reality of the external world. To deny this is theoretical 
 egoism, which on that account regards all phenomena that are 
 outside its own will as phantoms, just as in a practical reference 
 exactly the same thing is done by practical egoism. For in it a 
 man regards and treats himself alone as a person, and all other 
 persons as mere phantoms. Theoretical egoism can never be 
 demonstrably refuted, yet in philosophy it has never been used 
 otherwise than as a sceptical sophism, i. e., a pretence. As a 
 serious conviction, on the other hand, it could only be found in a 
 madhouse, and as such it stands in need of a cure rather than a 
 refutation. We do not therefore combat it any further in this 
 regard, but treat it as merely the last stronghold of scepticism, 
 
646 ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER 
 
 which is always polemical. Thus our knowledge, which is al- 
 ways bound to individuality and is limited by this circumstance, 
 brings with it the necessity that each of us can only be one, while, 
 on the other hand, each of us can know all; and it is this limita- 
 tion that creates the need for philosophy. We therefore who, 
 for this very reason, are striving to extend the limits of our know- 
 ledge through philosophy, will treat this sceptical argument of 
 theoretical egoism which meets us, as an army would treat a 
 small frontier fortress. The fortress cannot indeed be taken, 
 but the garrison can never sally forth from it, and therefore we 
 pass it by without danger, and are not afraid to have it in our 
 rear. 
 
 The double knowledge which each of us has of the nature and 
 activity of his own body, and which is given in two completely 
 different ways, has now been clearly brought out. We shall ac- 
 cordingly make further use of it as a key to the nature of every 
 phenomenon in nature, and shall judge of all objects which are 
 not our own bodies, and are consequently not given to our con- 
 sciousness in a double way but only as ideas, according to the 
 analogy of our own bodies, and shall therefore assume that as 
 in one respect they are idea, just like our bodies, and in this 
 respect are analogous to them, so in another aspect, what re- 
 mains of objects when we set aside their existence as idea of the 
 subject, must in its inner nature be the same as that in us which 
 we call will. For what other kind of existence or reality should 
 we attribute to the rest of the material world ? Whence should 
 we take the elements out of which we construct such a world ? 
 Besides will and idea nothing is known to us or thinkable. If 
 we wish to attribute the greatest known reality to the material 
 world which exists immediately only in our idea, we give it the 
 reality which our own body has for each of us ; for that is the 
 most real thing for every one. But if we now analyse the reality 
 of this body and its actions, beyond the fact that it is idea, we 
 find nothing in it except the will ; with this its reality is exhausted. 
 Therefore we can nowhere find another kind of reality which 
 we can attribute to the material world. Thus if we hold that the 
 material world is spmething more than merely our idea, we must 
 
THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 647 
 
 say that besides being idea, that is, in itself and according to its 
 inmost nature, it is that which we find immediately in ourselves 
 as will. . . . 
 
 21. Whoever has now gained from all these expositions 
 a knowledge in abstracto, and therefore clear and certain, of 
 what every one knows directly in concrete, i.e., as feeling, a know- 
 ledge that his will is the real inner nature of his phenomenal 
 being, which manifests itself to him as idea, both in his actions 
 and in their permanent substratum, his body, and that his will 
 is that which is most immediate in his consciousness, though it 
 has not as such completely passed into the form of idea in which 
 object and subject stand over against each other, but makes 
 itself known to him in a direct manner, in which he does not 
 quite clearly distinguish subject and object, yet is not known 
 as a whole to the individual himself, but only in its particular 
 acts, whoever, I say, has with me gained this conviction will 
 find that of itself it affords him the key to the knowledge of the 
 inmost being of the whole of nature ; for he now transfers it to 
 all those phenomena which are not given to him, like his own 
 phenomenal existence, both in direct and indirect knowledge, 
 but only in the latter, thus merely onesidedly as idea alone. He 
 will recognise this will of which we are speaking not only in those 
 phenomenal existences which exactly resemble his own, in men 
 and animals as their inmost nature, but the course of reflection 
 will lead him to recognise the force which germinates and vege- 
 tates in the plant, and indeed the force through which the crystal 
 is formed, that by which the magnet turns to the North Pole, 
 the force whose shock he experiences from the contact of two dif- 
 ferent kinds of metals, the force which appears in the elective 
 affinities of matter as repulsion and attraction, decomposition 
 and combination, and, lastly, even gravitation, which acts so 
 powerfully throughout matter, draws the stone to the earth and 
 the earth to the sun, all these, I say, he will recognise as differ- 
 ent only in their phenomenal existence, but in their inner nature 
 as identical, as that which is directly known to him so intimately 
 and so much better than anything else, and which in its most 
 distinct manifestation is called will. It is this application of 
 
648 ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER 
 
 reflection alone that prevents us from remaining any longer at 
 the phenomenon, and leads us to the thing in itself. Phenomenal 
 existence is idea and nothing more. All idea, of whatever kind 
 it may be, all object, is phenomenal existence, but the will alone 
 is a thing in itself. As such, it is throughout not idea, but toto 
 genere different from it ; it is that of which all idea, all object, 
 is the phenomenal appearance, the visibility, the objectification. 
 It is the inmost nature, the kernel, of every particular thing, and 
 also of the whole. It appears in every blind force of nature and 
 also in the preconsidered action of man ; and the great difference 
 between these two is merely in the degree of the manifestation, 
 not in the nature of what manifests itself. 
 
 25. We know that multiplicity in general is necessarily 
 conditioned by space and time, and is only thinkable in them. 
 In this respect they are called the principium individuationis. 
 But we have found that space and time are forms of the prin- 
 ciple of sufficient reason. In this principle all our knowledge a 
 priori is expressed, but, as we showed above, this a priori know- 
 ledge, as such, only applies to the knowableness of things, not 
 to the things themselves, i. e., it is only our form of knowledge, 
 it is not a property of the thing-in-itself. The thing-in-itself is, 
 as such, free from all forms of knowledge, even the most uni- 
 versal, that of being an object for the subject. In other words, 
 the thing-in-itself is something altogether different from the idea. 
 If, now, this thing-in-itself is the will, as I believe I have fully 
 and convincingly proved it to be, then, regarded as such and 
 apart from its manifestation, it lies outside time and space, and 
 therefore knows no multiplicity, and is consequently one. Yet, 
 as I have said, it is not one in the sense in which an individual 
 or a concept is one, but as something to which the condition 
 of the possibility of multiplicity, the principium individuationis, 
 is foreign. The multiplicity of things in space and time, which 
 collectively constitute the objectification of will, does not affect 
 the will itself, which remains indivisible notwithstanding it. It 
 is not the case that, in some way or other, a smaller part of will 
 is in the stone and a larger part in the man, for the relation of 
 part and whole belongs exclusively to space, and has no longer 
 
THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 649 
 
 any meaning when we go beyond this form of intuition or per- 
 ception. The more and the less have application only to the 
 phenomenon of will, that is, its visibility, its objectification. Of 
 this there is a higher grade in the plant than in. the stone; in the 
 animal a higher grade than in the plant : indeed, the passage of 
 will into visibility, its objectification, has grades as innumerable 
 as exist between the dimmest twilight and the brightest sunshine, 
 the loudest sound and the faintest echo. We shall return later 
 to the consideration of these grades of visibility which belong 
 to the objectification of the will, to the reflection of its nature. 
 But as the grades of its objectification do not directly concern 
 the will itself, still less is it concerned by the multiplicity of the 
 phenomena of these different grades, i. e., the multitude of in- 
 dividuals of each form, or the particular manifestations of each 
 force. For this multiplicity is directly conditioned by time and 
 space, into which the will itself never enters. The will reveals 
 itself as completely and as much in one oak as in millions. Their 
 number and multiplication in space and time has no meaning 
 with regard to it, but only with regard to the multiplicity of 
 individuals who know in space and time, and who are them- 
 selves multiplied and dispersed in these. The multiplicity of 
 these individuals itself belongs not to the will, but only to its 
 manifestation. We may therefore say that if, per impossibile, 
 a single real existence, even the most insignificant, were to be 
 entirely annihilated, the whole world would necessarily perish 
 with it. The great mystic Angelus Silesius feels this when he 
 says : 
 
 " I know God cannot live an instant without me, 
 He must give up the ghost if I should cease to be." 
 
 Men have tried in various ways to bring the immeasurable 
 greatness of the material universe nearer to the comprehension 
 of us all, and then they have seized the opportunity to make 
 edifying remarks. They have referred perhaps to the relative 
 smallness of the earth, and indeed of man ; or, on the contrary, 
 they have pointed out the greatness of the mind of this man 
 who is so insignificant the mind that can solve, comprehend, 
 and even measure the greatness of the universe, and so forth. 
 
650 ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER 
 
 Now, all this is very well, but to me, when I consider the vast- 
 ness of the world, the most important point is this, that the 
 thing-in-itself , whose manifestation is the world whatever 
 else it may be cannot have its true self spread out and dis- 
 persed after this fashion in boundless space, but that this endless 
 extension belongs only to its manifestation. The thing-in-itself, 
 on the contrary, is present entire and undivided in every object 
 of nature and in every living being. Therefore we lose nothing 
 by standing still beside any single individual thing, and true 
 wisdom is not to be gained by measuring out the boundless world, 
 or, what would be more to the purpose, by actually traversing 
 endless space. It is rather to be attained by the thorough inves- 
 tigation of any individual thing, for thus we seek to arrive at a 
 full knowledge and understanding of its true and peculiar nature. 
 The subject which will therefore be fully considered in the 
 next book, and which has, doubtless, already presented itself 
 to the mind of every student of Plato, is, that these different 
 grades of the objectification of will which are manifested in 
 innumerable individuals, and exist as their unattained types 
 or as the eternal forms of things, not entering themselves into 
 time and space, which are the medium of individual things, but 
 remaining fixed, subject to no change, always being, never be- 
 coming, while the particular things arise and pass away, always 
 become and never are, that these grades of the objectification 
 of will are, I say, simply Plaids Ideas. I make this passing ref- 
 erence to the matter here in order that^^raay ha. able in future 
 to use the word Idea in this sense. In my writings, therefore, 
 the word is always to be understood inks true and original 
 meaning given to it by Plato, and has ap^utely no reference 
 to those abstract productions of dogmausing scholastic reason, 
 which Kant has inaptly and illegitimately used this word to 
 denote, though Plato had already appropriated and used it most 
 fitly. By Idea, then, I understand every definite and fixed grade \ 
 of the objectification of will, so far as it is thing-in-itself, and 
 therefore has no multiplicity. These grades are related to indi- 
 vidual things as their eternal forms or prototypes. The shortest 
 and most concise statement of this famous Platonic doctrine is 
 
THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 651 
 
 given us by Diogenes Laertes (iii. 12): " C O nxdrw <r/<ri', lv rfj 
 
 <f>v(TL ras iSeas eorrai/at, KaOdirep TrapaSety/Aara, TO. 8' aAAa ravrats eot/cei/at, 
 
 TOVTWJ/ 6/Aoia>/rra KafleVrooTa." (" Plato ideas in natura velut 
 exemplaria dixit subsistere ; cetera his esse similia, ad istarum 
 similitudinem consistentia. ") 
 
 BOOK III. THE PLATONIC IDEA: THE OBJECT 
 
 OF ART 
 
 32. It follows from our consideration of the subject, that, 
 for us, Idea and thing-in-itself are not entirely one and the same, 
 in spite of the inner agreement between Kant and Plato, and 
 the identity of the aim they had before them or the concep- 
 tion of the world which roused them and led them to philo- 
 sophise. The Idea is for us rather the direct, and therefore 
 adequate, objectivity of the thing-in-itself, which is, however, 
 itself the will the will as not yet objectified, not yet become 
 idea. For the thing-in-itself must, even according to Kant, be 
 free from all the forms connected with knowing asXsuch; and it 
 is merely an error on his part that he did not count among these 
 forms, before all others, that of being object for a subject, for 
 it is the first and most universal form of all phenomena, i. e., of 
 all idea; he should therefore have distinctly denied objective 
 existence to his thing-in-itself, which would have saved him 
 from a great inconsistency that was soon discovered. The Pla- 
 tonic Idea, on the other hand, is necessarily object, something 
 known, an idea, and in that respect is different from the thing- 
 in-itself, but in that respect only. It has merely laid aside the 
 subordinate forms of the phenomenon, all of which we include 
 in the principle of sufficient reason, or rather it has not yet as- 
 sumed them; but it has retained the first and most universal 
 form, that of the idea in general, the form of being object for a 
 subject. It is the forms which are subordinate to this (whose 
 general expression is the principle of sufficient reason) that 
 multiply the Idea in particular transitory individuals, whose 
 number is a matter of complete indifference to the Idea. The 
 principle of sufficient reason is thus again the form into which 
 
652 ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER 
 
 the Idea enters when it appears in the knowledge of the sub- 
 ject as individual. The particular thing that manifests itself in 
 accordance with the principle of sufficient reason is thus only 
 an indirect objectification of the thing-in-itself (which is the 
 will), for between it and the thing-in-itself stands the Idea as 
 the only direct objectivity of the will, because it has assumed 
 none of the special forms of knowledge as such, except that of 
 the idea hi general, i. e., the form of being object for a subject. 
 Therefore it alone is the most adequate objectivity of the will or 
 thing-in-itself which is possible ; indeed it is the whole thing-in- 
 itself, only under the form of the idea ; and here lies the ground 
 of the great agreement between Plato and Kant, although, in 
 strict accuracy, that of which they speak is not the same. But 
 the particular things are no really adequate objectivity of the 
 will, for in them it is obscured by those forms whose general 
 expression is the principle of sufficient reason, but which are 
 conditions of the knowledge which belongs to the individual as . 
 such. If it is allowable to draw conclusions from an impossible 
 presupposition, we would, in fact, no longer know particular 
 things, nor events, nor change, nor multiplicity, but would com- 
 prehend only Ideas, only the grades of the objectification of 
 that one will, of the thing-in-itself, in pure unclouded know- 
 ledge. Consequently our world would be a nunc stans, if it were 
 not that, as knowing subjects, we are also individuals, i. e., our 
 perceptions come to us through tjie medium of a body, from 
 the affections of which they proceed, and which is itself only 
 concrete willing, objectivity of the will, and thus is an object 
 among objects, and as such comes into the knowing conscious- 
 ness in the only way in which an object can, through the forms 
 of the principle of sufficient reason, and consequently already 
 presupposes, and therefore brings in, time, and all other forms 
 which that principle expresses. Time is only the broken and 
 piecemeal view which the individual being has of the Ideas, 
 which are outside time, and consequently eternal. Therefore 
 Plato says time is the moving picture of eternity: cuwvos CIKOJV 
 
 Kwrprr) 6 ^/oovos. 
 
 35. In order to gain a deeper insight into the nature of the 
 
THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 653 
 
 
 
 world, it is absolutely necessary that we should learn to distin- 
 guish the will as thing-in-itself from its adequate objectivity, 
 and also the different grades in which this appears more and 
 more distinctly and fully, i. e., the Ideas themselves, from the 
 merely phenomenal existence of these Ideas in the forms of the 
 principle of sufficient reason, the restricted method of know- 
 ledge of the individual. We shall then agree with Plato when 
 he attributes actual being only to the Ideas, and allows only 
 an illusive, dream-like existence to things in space and time, the 
 real world for the individual. Then we shall understand how 
 one and the same Idea reveals itself in so many phenomena, 
 and presents its nature only bit by bit to the individual, one side 
 after another. Then we shall also distinguish the Idea itself 
 from the way in which its manifestation appears in the observa- 
 tion of the individual, and recognise the former as essential 
 and the latter as unessential. Let us consider this with the help 
 of examples taken from the most insignificant things, and also 
 from the greatest. When the clouds move, the figures which 
 they form are not essential, but indifferent to them ; but that as 
 elastic vapour they are pressed together, drifted along, spread 
 out, or torn asunder by the force of the wind : this is their nature, 
 the essence of the forces which objectify themselves in them, the 
 Idea; their actual forms are only for the individual observer. 
 To the brook that flows over stones, the eddies, the waves, the 
 foam-flakes which it forms are indifferent and unessential; but 
 that it follows the attraction of gravity, and behaves as inelastic, , 
 perfectly mobile, formless, transparent fluid : this is its nature ; 
 this, if known through perception, is its Idea; these accidental 
 forms are only for us so long as we know as individuals. The ice 
 on the window-pane forms itself into crystals according to the 
 laws of crystallisation, which reveal the essence of the force of 
 nature that appears here, exhibit the Idea; but the trees and 
 flowers which it traces on the pane are unessential, and are only 
 there for us. What appears in the clouds, the brook, and the 
 crystal is the weakest echo of that will which appears more fully 
 in the plant, more fully still in the beast, and most fully in man. 
 But only the essential in all these grades of its objectification 
 
654 ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER 
 
 - 
 
 constitutes the Idea ; on the other hand, its unfolding or develop- 
 ment, because broken up in the forms of the principle of suffi- 
 cient reason into a multiplicity of many-sided phenomena, is 
 unessential to the Idea, lies merely in the kind of knowledge 
 that belongs to the individual and has reality only for this. The 
 same thing necessarily holds good of the unfolding of that Idea 
 which is the completest objectivity of will. Therefore, the history 
 of the human race, the throng of events, the change of times, 
 the multifarious forms of human life in different lands and coun- 
 tries, all this is only the accidental form of the manifestation of 
 the Idea, does not belong to the Idea itself, in which alone lies 
 the adequate objectivity of the will, but only to the phenomenon 
 which appears in the knowledge of the individual, and is just 
 as foreign, unessential, and indifferent to the Idea itself as the 
 figures which they assume are to the clouds, the form of its 
 eddies and foam-flakes to the brook, or its trees and flowers to 
 the ice. 
 
 To him who has thoroughly grasped this, and can distinguish 
 between the will and the Idea, and between the Idea and its 
 manifestation, the events of the world will have significance only 
 so far as they are the letters out of which we may read the Idea 
 of man, but not in and for themselves. He will not believe with 
 the vulgar that time may produce something actually new and 
 significant; that through it, or in it, something absolutely real 
 may attain to existence, or indeed that it itself as a whole has 
 beginning and end, plan and development, and in some way 
 has for its final aim the highest perfection (according to their 
 conception) of the last generation of man,whose life is a brief 
 thirty years. Therefore he will just as little, with Homer, people 
 a whole Olympus with gods to guide the events of time, as, with 
 Ossian, he will take the forms of the clouds for individual beings ; 
 for, as we have said, both have just as much meaning as regards 
 the Idea which appears in them. In the manifold forms of human 
 life and in the unceasing change of events, he will regard the 
 Idea only as the abiding and essential, in which the will to live 
 has its fullest objectivity, and which shows its different sides in 
 the capacities, the passions, the errors and the excellences of 
 
THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 655 
 
 the human race; in self-interest, hatred, love, fear, boldness, 
 frivolity, stupidity, slyness, wit, genius, and so forth, all of which 
 crowding together and combining in thousands of forms (in- 
 dividuals), continually create the history of the great and the 
 little world, in which it is all the same whether they are set in 
 motion by nuts or by crowns. Finally, he will find that in the 
 world it is the same as hi the dramas of Dozzi, in all of which 
 the same persons appear, with like intention, and with a like 
 fate; the motives and incidents are certainly different in each 
 piece, but the spirit of the incidents is the same ; the actors in 
 one piece know nothing of the incidents of another, although 
 they performed in it themselves; therefore, after all experience 
 of former pieces, Pantaloon has become no more agile or gen- 
 erous, Tartaglia no more conscientious, Brighella no more 
 courageous, and Columbine no more modest. 
 
 Suppose we were allowed for once a clearer glance into the 
 kingdom of the possible, and over the whole chain of causes and 
 effects; if the earth-spirit appeared and showed us in a picture 
 all the greatest men, enlighteners of the world, and heroes, that 
 chance destroyed before they were ripe for their work ; then the 
 great events that would have changed the history of the world 
 and brought in periods of the highest culture and enlightenment, 
 but which the blindest chance, the most insignificant accident, 
 hindered at the outset ; lastly, the splendid powers of great men, 
 that would have enriched whole ages of the world, but which, 
 either misled by error or passion, or compelled by necessity, 
 they squandered uselessly on unworthy or unfruitful objects, or 
 even wasted in play. If we saw all this, we would shudder and 
 lament at the thought of the lost treasures of whole periods 
 of the world. But the earth-spirit would smile and say, "The 
 source from which the individuals and their powers proceed is 
 inexhaustible and unending as time and space; for, like these 
 forms of all phenomena, they also are only phenomena, visibility 
 of the will. No finite measure can exhaust that infinite source ; 
 therefore an undiminished eternity is always open for the return 
 of any event or work that was nipped in the bud. In this world 
 of phenomena true loss is just as little possible as true gain. The 
 
656 ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER 
 
 will alone is ; it is the thing-in-itself, and the source of all these 
 phenomena. Its self-knowledge and its assertion or denial, 
 which is then decided upon, is the only event in-itself." 
 
 36. History follows the thread of events; it is pragmatic 
 so far as it deduces them in accordance with the law of motiva- 
 tion, a law that determines the self-manifesting will wherever it 
 is enlightened by knowledge. At the lowest grades of its objec- 
 tivity, where it still acts without knowledge, natural science, in 
 the form of etiology, treats of the laws of the changes of its phe- 
 nomena, and, in the form of morphology, of what is permanent 
 in them. This almost endless task is lightened by the aid of con- 
 cepts, which comprehend what is general in order that we may 
 deduce what is particular from it. Lastly, mathematics treats 
 of the mere forms, time and space, in which the Ideas, broken up 
 into multiplicity, appear for the knowledge of the subject as in- 
 dividual. All these, of which the common name is science, pro- 
 ceed according to the principle of sufficient reason in its different 
 forms, and their theme is always the phenomenon, its laws, con- 
 nections, and the relations which result from them. But what 
 kind of knowledge is concerned with that which is outside and 
 independent of all relations, that which alone is really essential 
 to the world, the true content of its phenomena, that which is 
 subject to no change, and therefore is known with equal truth 
 for all time, in a word, the Ideas, which are the direct and ade- 
 quate objectivity of the thing-in-itself, the will? We answer, 
 Art, the work of genius. It repeats or reproduces the eternal 
 Ideas grasped through pure contemplation, the essential and 
 abiding in all the phenomena of the world; and according to 
 what the material is in which it reproduces, it is sculpture or 
 painting, poetry or music. Its one source is the knowledge of 
 Ideas ; its one aim the communication of this knowledge. While 
 science, following the unresting and inconstant stream of the 
 fourfold forms of reason and consequent, with each end attained 
 sees further, and can never reach a final goal nor attain full 
 satisfaction, any more than by running we can reach the place 
 where the clouds touch the horizon; art, on the contrary, is 
 everywhere at its goal. For it plucks the object of its contem- 
 
THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 657 
 
 plation out of the stream of the world's course, and has it isolated 
 before it. And this particular thing, which in that stream was a 
 small perishing part, becomes to art the representative of the 
 whole, an equivalent of the endless multitude in space and time. 
 It therefore pauses at this particular thing; the course of time 
 stops; the relations vanish for it; only the essential, the Idea, 
 is its object. We may, therefore, accurately define it as the way 
 of viewing things independent of the principle oj sufficient reason, 
 in opposition to the way of viewing them which proceeds in 
 accordance with that principle, and which is the method of ex- 
 perience and of science. This last method of considering things 
 may be compared to a line infinitely extended in a horizontal 
 direction, and the former to a vertical line which cuts it at any 
 point. The method of viewing things which proceeds in accord- 
 ance with the principle of sufficient reason is the rational method, 
 and it alone is valid and of use in practical life and in science. 
 The method which looks away from the content of this principle 
 is the method of genius, which is only valid and of use in art. 
 The first is the method of Aristotle ; the second is, on the whole, 
 that of Plato. The first is like the mighty storm, that rushes 
 along without beginning and without aim, bending, agitating, 
 and carrying aw^ay everything before it; the second is like the 
 silent sunbeam, that pierces through the storm quite unaffected 
 by it. The first is like the innumerable showering drops of the 
 waterfall, which, constantly changing, never rest for an instant ; 
 the second is like the rainbow, quietly resting on this raging 
 torrent. Only through the pure contemplation described above, 
 which ends entirely hi the object, can Ideas be comprehended ; 
 and the nature of genius consists in pre-eminent capacity for 
 such contemplation. Now, as this requires that a man should 
 entirely forget himself and the relations in which he stands, 
 genius is simply the completest objectivity, i. e., the objective 
 tendency of the mind, as opposed to the subjective, which is 
 directed to one's own self in other words, to the will. Thus 
 genius is the faculty of continuing in the state of pure perception, 
 of losing oneself in perception, and of enlisting in this service 
 the knowledge which originally existed only for the service of the 
 
658 ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER 
 
 will ; that is to say, genius is the power of leaving one's own 
 interests, wishes, and aims entirely out of sight, thus of entirely 
 renouncing one's own personality for a time, so as to remain 
 pure knowing subject, clear vision of the world; and this not 
 merely at moments, but for a sufficient length of time, and with 
 sufficient consciousness, to enable one to reproduce by deliberate 
 art what has thus been apprehended, and "to fix in lasting 
 thoughts the wavering images that float before the mind." It is 
 as if, when genius appears in an individual, a far larger measure 
 of the power of knowledge falls to his lot than is necessary for 
 the service of an individual will; and this superfluity of know- 
 ledge, being free, now becomes subject purified from will, a 
 clear mirror of the inner nature of the world. This explains the 
 activity, amounting even to disquietude, of men of genius, for 
 the present can seldom satisfy them, because it does not fill their 
 consciousness. This gives them that restless aspiration, that 
 unceasing desire for new things, and for the contemplation of 
 lofty things, and also that longing that is hardly ever satisfied, 
 for men of similar nature and of like stature, to whom they might 
 communicate themselves; whilst the common mortal, entirely 
 filled and satisfied by the common present, ends in it, and finding 
 everywhere his like, enjoys that peculiar satisfaction in daily 
 life that is denied to genius. 
 
 BOOK IV. THE ASSERTION AND DENIAL OF 
 THE WILL 
 
 57. At every grade that is enlightened by knowledge, the 
 will appears as an individual. The human individual finds 
 himself as finite in infinite space and time, and consequently as 
 a vanishing quantity compared with them. He is projected into 
 them, and, on account of their unlimited nature, he has always 
 a merely relative, never absolute when and where of his exist- 
 ence ; for his place and duration are finite parts of what is infinite 
 and boundless. His real existence is only in the present, whose 
 unchecked flight into the past is a constant transition into death, 
 
THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 659 
 
 a constant dying. For his past life, apart from its possible con- 
 sequences for the present, and the testimony regarding the will 
 that is expressed in it, is now entirely done with, dead, and no 
 longer anything ; and, therefore, it must be, as a matter of reason, 
 indifferent to him whether the content of that past was pain or 
 pleasure. But the present is always passing through his hands 
 into the past; the future is quite uncertain and always short. 
 Thus his existence, even when we consider only its formal side, 
 is a constant hurrying of the present into the dead past, a 
 constant dying. But if we look at it from the physical side, it 
 is clear that, as our walking is admittedly merely a constantly 
 prevented falling, the life of our body is only a constantly pre- 
 vented dying, an ever- postponed death : finally, in the same way, 
 the activity of our mind is a constantly deferred ennui. Every 
 breath we draw wards off the death that is constantly intruding 
 upon us. In this way we fight with it every moment, and again, 
 at longer intervals, through every meal we eat, every sleep we 
 take, every time we warm ourselves, etc. In the end, death 
 must conquer, for we became subject to him through birth, and 
 he only plays for a little while with his prey before he swallows 
 it up. We pursue our life, however, with great interest and much 
 solicitude as long as possible, as we blow out a soap-bubble as 
 long and as large as possible, although we know perfectly well 
 that it will burst. 
 
 We saw that the inner being of unconscious nature is a con- 
 stant striving without end and without rest. And this appears, 
 to us much more distinctly when we consider the nature of brutes 
 and man. Willing and striving is its whole being, which may 
 be very well compared to an unquenchable thirst. But the basis 
 of all willing is need, deficiency, and thus pain. Consequently, 
 the nature of brutes and man is subject to pain originally and 
 through its very being. If, on the other hand, it lacks objects of 
 desire, because it is at once deprived of them by a too easy satis- 
 faction, a terrible void and ennui comes over it, i. e., its being 
 and existence itself becomes an unbearable burden to it. Thus 
 its life swings like a pendulum backwards and forwards between 
 pain and ennui. This has also had to express itself very oddly 
 
66o ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER 
 
 in this way ; after man had transferred all pain and torments to 
 hell, there then remained nothing over for heaven but ennui. 
 
 But the constant striving which constitutes the inner nature 
 of every manifestation of will obtains its primary and most 
 general foundation at the higher grades of objectification, from 
 the fact that here the will manifests itself as a living body, with 
 the iron command to nourish it ; and what gives strength to this 
 command is just that this body is nothing but the objectified 
 will to live itself. Man, as the most complete objectification of 
 that will, is in like measure also the most necessitous of all be- 
 ings: he is through and through concrete willing and needing; 
 he is a concretion of a thousand necessities. With these he stands 
 upon the earth, left to himself, uncertain about everything ex- 
 cept his own need and misery. Consequently the care for the 
 maintenance of that existence under exacting demands, which 
 are renewed every day, occupies, as a rule, the whole of human 
 life. To this is directly related the second claim, that of the 
 propagation of the species. At the same time he is threatened 
 from all sides by the most different kinds of dangers, from which 
 it requires constant watchfulness to escape. With cautious steps 
 and casting anxious glances round him he pursues his path, for 
 a thousand accidents and a thousand enemies lie in wait for him. 
 Thus he went while yet a savage, thus he goes in civilised life ; 
 there is no security for him. 
 
 " Qualibus in tenebris vitae, quantisque periclis 
 Degitur hocc' aevi, quodcunque est ! " LUCR. ii, 15. 
 
 The life of the great majority is only a constant struggle for this 
 existence itself, with the certainty of losing it at last. But what 
 enables them to endure this wearisome battle is not so much 
 the love of life as the fear of death, which yet stands in the back- 
 ground as inevitable, and may come upon them at any moment. 
 Life itself is a sea, full of rocks and whirlpools, which man avoids 
 with the greatest care and solicitude, although he knows that 
 even if he succeeds in getting through with all his efforts and 
 skill, he yet by doing so comes nearer at every step to the great- 
 est, the total, inevitable, and irremediable shipwreck, death ; nay, 
 even steers right upon it : this is the final goal of the laborious 
 
THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 661 
 
 voyage, and worse for him than all the rocks from which he has 
 escaped. 
 
 Now it is well worth observing that, on the one hand, the suf- 
 fering and misery of life may easily increase to such an extent 
 that death itself, in the flight from which the whole of life con- 
 sists, becomes desirable, and we hasten towards it voluntarily; 
 and again, on the other hand, that as soon as want and suffering 
 permit rest to a man, ennui is at once so near that he necessarily 
 requires diversion. The striving after existence is what occupies 
 all living things and maintains them in motion. But when exist- 
 ence is assured, then they know not what to do with it ; thus the 
 second thing that sets them in motion is the effort to get free 
 from the burden of existence, to make it cease to be felt, "to kill 
 time," i. e., to escape from ennui. Accordingly we see that al- 
 most all men who are secure from want and care, now that at 
 last they have thrown off all other burdens, become a burden to 
 themselves, and regard as a gain every hour they succeed in 
 getting through, and thus every diminution of the very life which, 
 till then, they have employed all their powers to maintain as 
 long as possible. Ennui is by no means an evil to be lightly 
 esteemed ; in the end it depicts on the countenance real despair. 
 It makes beings who love each other so little as men do, seek 
 each other eagerly, and thus becomes the source of social inter- 
 course. Moreover, even from motives of policy, public precau- 
 tions are everywhere taken against it, as against other universal 
 calamities. For this evil may drive men to the greatest excesses, 
 just as much as its opposite extreme, famine : the people require 
 panem et circenses. The strict penitentiary system of Philadel- 
 phia makes use of ennui alone as a means of punishment, through 
 solitary confinement and idleness, and it is found so terrible that 
 it has even led prisoners to commit suicide. As want is the con- 
 stant scourge of the people, so ennui is that of the fashionable 
 world. In middle-class life ennui is represented by the Sunday, 
 and want by the six week-days. 
 
 Thus between desiring and attaining all human life flows on 
 throughout. The wish is, in its nature, pain; the attainment 
 soon begets satiety: the end was only apparent; possession 
 
662 ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER 
 
 takes away the charm; the wish, the need, presents itself under 
 a new form ; when it does not, then follows desolatcness, empti- 
 ness, ennui, against which the conflict is just as painful as against 
 want. That wish and satisfaction should follow each other 
 neither too quickly nor too slowly reduces the suffering which 
 both occasion to the smallest amount, and constitutes the hap- 
 piest life. For that which we might otherwise call the most 
 beautiful part of life, its purest joy, if it were only because it 
 lifts us out of real existence and transforms us into disinterested 
 spectators of it that is, pure knowledge, which is foreign to all 
 willing, the pleasure of the beautiful, the true delight hi art - 
 this is granted only to a very few, because it demands rare talents, 
 and to these few only as a passing dream. And then, even these 
 few, on account of their higher intellectual power, are made 
 susceptible of far greater suffering than duller minds can ever 
 feel, and are also placed in lonely isolation by a nature which is 
 obviously different from that of others ; thus here also accounts 
 are squared. But to the great majority of men purely intellectual 
 pleasures are not accessible. They are almost quite incapable 
 of the joys which lie in pure knowledge. They are entirely given 
 up to willing. If, therefore, anything is to win their sympathy, 
 to be interesting to them, it must (as is implied in the meaning 
 of the word) in some way excite their will, even if it is only 
 through a distant and merely problematical relation to it; the 
 will must not be left altogether out of the question, for their 
 existence lies far more in willing than in knowing, action and 
 reaction is their one element. We may find in trifles and every- 
 day occurrences the naive expressions of this quality. Thus, for 
 example, at any place worth seeing they may visit, they write 
 their names, in order thus to react, to affect the place since it 
 does not affect them. Again, when they see a strange, rare 
 animal, they cannot easily confine themselves to merely observing 
 it ; they must rouse it, tease it, play with it, merely to experience 
 action and reaction; but this need for excitement of the will 
 manifests itself very specially in the discovery and support of 
 card-playing, which is quite peculiarly the expression of the 
 miserable side of humanity. 
 
THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 663 
 
 But whatever nature and fortune may have done, whoever a 
 man be and whatever he may possess, the pain which is essential 
 to life cannot be thrown off : n^AeiSrjs 8' $pu$cv, l&w ek ovpavbv 
 cvpvv. (Pelides autem ejulavit, intuitus in coelum latum.) And 
 
 again : ZT/I/OS pw TTCU? 5 a Kpoviovos, avrap oivv et^ov &**Lpc<rur)V. ( Jovis 
 
 quidem filius eram Saturnii ; verum aerumnam habebam infini- 
 tam). The ceaseless efforts to banish suffering accomplish no 
 more than to make it change its form. It is essentially defi- 
 ciency, want, care for the maintenance of life. If we succeed, 
 which is very difficult, in removing pain in this form, it imme- 
 diately assumes a thousand others, varying according to age and 
 circumstances, such as lust, passionate love, jealousy, envy, 
 hatred, anxiety, ambition, covetousness, sickness, etc., etc. If 
 at last it can find entrance in no other form, it comes in the sad, 
 grey garments of tediousness and ennui, against which we then 
 strive in various ways. If finally we succeed in driving this 
 away, we shall hardly do so without letting pain enter in one of 
 its earlier forms, and the dance begin again from the begnining ; 
 for -all human life is tossed backwards and forwards between 
 pain and ennui. 
 
 58. All satisfaction, or what is commonly called happiness, 
 is always really and essentially only negative, and never positive. 
 It is not an original gratification coming to us of itself, but must 
 always be the satisfaction of a wish. The wish, i. e., some want, 
 is the condition which precedes every pleasure. But with the 
 satisfaction the wish and therefore the pleasure cease. Thus 
 the satisfaction or the pleasing can never be more than the de- 
 liverance from a pain, from a want; for such is not only every 
 actual, open sorrow, but every desire, the importunity of which 
 disturbs our peace, and, indeed, the deadening ennui also that 
 makes life a burden to us. It is, however, so hard to attain or 
 achieve anything; difficulties and troubles without end are op- 
 posed to every purpose, and at every step hindrances accumu- 
 late. But when finally everything is overcome and attained, 
 nothing can ever be gained but deliverance from some sorrow or 
 desire, so that we find ourselves just in the same position as we 
 
664. ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER 
 
 occupied before this sorrow or desire appeared. All that is even 
 directly given us is merely the want, i. e., the pain. The satis- 
 faction and the pleasure we can only know indirectly through 
 the remembrance of the preceding suffering and want, which 
 ceases with its appearance. Hence it arises that we are not 
 properly conscious of the blessings and advantages we actually 
 possess, nor do we prize them, but think of them merely as a 
 matter of course, for they gratify us only negatively by restrain- 
 ing suffering. Only when we have lost them do we become 
 sensible of their value ; for the want, the privation, the sorrow, 
 is the positive, communicating itself directly to us. Thus also 
 we are pleased by the remembrance of past need, sickness, want, 
 and such like, because this is the only means of enjoying the 
 present blessings. And, further, it cannot be denied that in this 
 respect, and from this standpoint of egoism, which is the form 
 of the will to live, the sight or the description of the sufferings 
 of others affords us satisfaction and pleasure in precisely the 
 way Lucretius beautifully and frankly expresses it in the begin- 
 ning of the Second Book : 
 
 " Suave, rriari magno, turbantibus aequora ventis, 
 E terra magnum alterius spectare laborem : 
 Non, quia vexari quemquam est jucunda voluptas ; 
 Sed, quibus ipse mails careas, quia cernere suave est." 
 
 Yet we shall see farther on that this kind of pleasure, through 
 knowledge of our own well-being obtained in this way, lies very 
 near the source of real, positive wickedness. 
 
 That all happiness is only of a negative not a positive nature, 
 that just on this account it cannot be lasting satisfaction and 
 gratification, but merely delivers us from some pain or want 
 which must be followed either by a new pain, or by languor, 
 empty longing, and ennui; this finds support in art, that true 
 mirror of the world and life, and especially in poetry. Every 
 epic and dramatic poem can only represent a struggle, an effort, 
 and fight for happiness, never enduring and complete happiness 
 itself. It conducts its heroes through a thousand difficulties and 
 dangers to the goal ; as soon as this is reached, it hastens to let 
 the curtain fall ; for now there would remain nothing for it to do 
 
THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 665 
 
 but to show that the glittering goal in which the hero expected 
 to find happiness had only disappointed him, and that after its 
 attainment he was no better off than before. Because a genuine 
 enduring happiness is not possible, it cannot be the subject of 
 art. Certainly the aim of the idyll is the description of such a 
 happiness, but one also sees that the idyll as such cannot con- 
 tinue. The poet always finds that it either becomes epical in his 
 hands, and in this case it is a very insignificant epic, made up of 
 trifling sorrows, trifling delights, and trifling efforts this is the 
 commonest case or else it becomes a merely descriptive poem, 
 describing the beauty of nature, i. e., pure knowing free from 
 will, which certainly, as a matter of fact, is the only pure happi- 
 ness, which is neither preceded by suffering or want, nor neces- 
 sarily followed by repentance, sorrow, emptiness, or satiety; 
 but this happiness cannot fill the whole life, but is only possible 
 at moments. What we see in poetry we find again in music; 
 in the melodies of which we have recognised the universal ex- 
 pression of the inmost history of the self-conscious will, the most 
 secret life, longing, suffering, and delight; the ebb and flow of 
 the human heart. Melody is always a deviation from the key- 
 note through a thousand capricious wanderings, even to the most 
 painful discord, and then a final return to the keynote which 
 expresses the satisfaction and appeasing of the will, but with 
 which nothing more can then be done, and the continuance of 
 which any longer would only be a wearisome and unmeaning 
 monotony corresponding to ennui. 
 
 All that we intend to bring out clearly through these investi- 
 gations, the impossibility of attaining lasting satisfaction and 
 the negative nature of all happiness, finds its explantion in 
 what is shown at the conclusion of the Second Book: that the 
 will, of which human life, like every phenomenon, is the ob- 
 jectification, is a striving without aim or end. We find the stamp 
 of this endlessness imprinted upon all the parts of its whole 
 manifestation, from its most universal form, endless time and 
 space, up to the most perfect of all phenomena, the life and 
 efforts of man. We may theoretically assume three extremes of 
 human life, and treat them as elements of actual human life. 
 
666 ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER 
 
 First, the powerful will, the strong passions (Radscha-Guna). 
 It appears in great historical characters; it is described in the 
 epic and the drama. But it can also show itself in the little world, 
 for the size of the objects is measured here by the degree hi 
 which they influence the will, not according to their external 
 relations. Secondly, pure knowing, the comprehension of the 
 Ideas, conditioned by the freeing of knowledge from the service 
 of will: the life of genius (Satwa-Guna). Thirdly and lastly, 
 the greatest lethargy of the will, and also of the knowledge at- 
 taching to it, empty longing, life-benumbing languor (Tama- 
 Guna). The life of the individual, far from becoming perma- 
 nently fixed in one of these extremes, seldom touches any of 
 them, and is for the most part only a weak and wavering approach 
 to one or the other side, a needy desiring of trifling objects, con- 
 stantly recurring, and so escaping ennui. It is really incredible 
 how meaningless and void of significance when looked at from 
 without, how dull and unenlightened by intellect when felt from 
 within, is the course of the life of the great majority of men. 
 It is a weary longing and complaining, a dream-like staggering 
 through the four ages of life to death, accompanied by a series 
 of trivial thoughts. Such men are like clockwork, which is wound 
 up, and goes it knows not why ; and every time a man is begot- 
 ten and born, the clock of human life is wound up anew, to re- 
 peat the same old piece it has played innumerable times before, 
 passage after passage, measure after measure, with insignificant 
 variations. Every individual, every human being and his course 
 of life, is but another short dream of the endless spirit of na- 
 ture, of the persistent will to live ; is only another fleeting form, 
 which it carelessly sketches on its infinite page, space and time ; 
 allows to remain for a time so short that it vanishes into nothing 
 in comparison with these, and then obliterates to make new 
 room. And yet, and here lies the serious side of life, every one 
 of these fleeting forms, these empty fancies, must be paid for by 
 the whole will to live, hi all its activity, with many and deep 
 sufferings, and finally with a bitter death, long feared and com- 
 ing at last. This is why the sight of a corpse makes us suddenly 
 so serious. 
 
THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 667 
 
 The life of every individual, if we survey it as a whole and in 
 general, and only lay stress upon its most significant features, 
 is really always a tragedy, but gone through in detail, it has the 
 character of a comedy. For the deeds and vexations of the day, 
 the restless irritation of the moment, the desires and fears of the 
 week, the mishaps of every hour, are all through chance, which 
 is ever bent upon some jest, scenes of a comedy. But the never- 
 satisfied wishes, the frustrated efforts, the hopes unmercifully 
 crushed by fate, the unfortunate errors of the whole life, with 
 increasing suffering and death at the end, are always a tragedy. 
 Thus, as if fate would add derision to the misery of our existence, 
 our life must contain all the woes of tragedy, and yet we cannot 
 even assert the dignity of tragic characters, but in the broad de- 
 tail of life must inevitably be the foolish characters of a comedy. 
 
 But however much great and small trials may fill human life, 
 they are not able to conceal its insufficiency to satisfy the spirit ; 
 they cannot hide the emptiness and superficiality of existence, 
 nor exclude ennui, which is always ready to fill up every pause 
 that care may allow. Hence it arises that the human mind, not 
 content with the cares, anxieties, and occupations which the 
 actual world lays upon it, creates for itself an imaginary world 
 also in the form of a thousand different superstitions, then finds 
 all manner of employment with this, and wastes time and strength 
 upon it, as soon as the real world is willing to grant it the rest 
 which it is quite incapable of enjoying. This is accordingly most 
 markedly the case with nations for which life is made easy by 
 the congenial nature of the climate and the soil, most of all with 
 the Hindus, then with the Greeks, the Romans, and later with 
 the Italians, the Spaniards, etc. Demons, gods, and saints man 
 creates in his own image ; and to them he must then unceasingly 
 bring offerings, prayers, temple decorations, vows and their 
 fulfilment, pilgrimages, salutations, ornaments for their images, 
 etc. Their service mingles everywhere with the real, and, in- 
 deed, obscures it. Every event of life is regarded as the work of 
 these beings; the intercourse with them occupies half the time 
 of life, constantly sustains hope, and by the charm of illusion 
 often becomes more interesting than intercourse with real beings. 
 
668 ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER 
 
 It is the expression and symptom of the actual need of mankind, 
 partly for help and support, partly for occupation and diversion ; 
 and if it often works in direct opposition to the first need, because 
 when accidents and dangers arise valuable time and strength, 
 instead of being directed to warding them off, are uselessly 
 wasted on prayers and offerings; it serves the second end all 
 the better by this imaginary converse with a visionary spirit 
 world; and this is the by no means contemptible gain of all 
 superstitions. 
 
 68. All suffering, since it is a mortification and a call to 
 resignation, has potentially a sanctifying power. This is the 
 explanation of the fact that every great misfortune or deep pain 
 inspires a certain awe. But the sufferer only really becomes an 
 object of reverence when, surveying the course of his life as a 
 chain of sorrows, or mourning some great and incurable mis- 
 fortune, he does not really look at the special combination of 
 circumstances which has plunged his own life into suffering, 
 nor stops at the single great misfortune that has befallen him; 
 for in so doing his knowledge still follows the principle of suffi- 
 cient reason, and clings to the particular phenomenon; he still 
 wills life, only not under the conditions which have happened to 
 him ; but only then, I say, is he truly worthy of reverence when 
 he raises his glance from the particular to the universal, when he 
 regards his suffering as merely an example of the whole, and 
 for him, since in a moral regard he partakes of genius, one 
 case stands for a thousand, so that the whole of life conceived 
 as essentially suffering brings him to resignation. Therefore it 
 inspires reverence when in Goethe's "Torquato Tasso" the 
 princess speaks of how her own life and that of her relations has 
 always been sad and joyless, and yet regards the matter from 
 an entirely universal point of view. 
 
 A very noble character we always imagine with a certain 
 trace of quiet sadness, which is anything but a constant fretful- 
 ness at daily annoyances (this would be an ignoble trait, and 
 lead us to fear a bad disposition), but is a consciousness derived 
 from knowledge of the vanity of all possessions, of the suffering 
 of all life, not merely of his own. But such knowledge may pri- 
 
THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 669 
 
 marily be awakened by the personal experience of suffering, 
 especially some one great sorrow, as a single unfulfilled wish 
 brought Petrarch to that state of resigned sadness concerning 
 the whole of life which appeals to us so pathetically in his works ; 
 for the Daphne he pursued had to flee from his hands in order 
 to leave him, instead of herself, the immortal laurel. When 
 through some such great and irrevocable denial of fate the will 
 is to some extent broken, almost nothing else is desired, and 
 the character shows itself mild, just, noble, and resigned. When, 
 finally, grief has no definite object, but extends itself over the 
 whole of life, then it is to a certain extent a going into itself, a 
 withdrawal, a gradual disappearance of the will, whose visible 
 manifestation, the body, it imperceptibly but surely undermines, 
 so that a man feels a certain loosening of his bonds, a mild fore- 
 taste of that death which promises to be the abolition at once of 
 the body and of the will. Therefore a secret pleasure accompa- 
 nies this grief, and it is this, as I believe, which the most mel- 
 ancholy of all nations has called "the joy of grief." But here 
 also lies the danger of sentimentality, both in life itself and in the 
 representation of it in poetry ; when a man is always mourning 
 and lamenting without courageously rising to resignation. In 
 this way we lose both earth and heaven, and retain merely a 
 watery sentimentality. Only if suffering assumes the form of 
 pure knowledge, and this, acting as a quieter oj the will, brings 
 about resignation, is it worthy of reverence. In this regard, 
 however, we feel a certain respect at the sight of every great 
 sufferer which is akin to the feeling excited by virtue and nobility 
 of character, and also seems like a reproach of our own happy 
 condition. We cannot help regarding every sorrow, both our 
 own and those of others, as at least a potential advance towards 
 virtue and holiness, and, on the contrary, pleasures and worldly 
 satisfactions as a retrogression from them. This goes so far, 
 that every man who endures a great bodily or mental suffering, 
 indeed every one who merely performs some physical labour 
 which demands the greatest exertion, in the sweat of his brow 
 and with evident exhaustion, yet with patience and without 
 murmuring, every such man, I say, if we consider him with close 
 
670 ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER 
 
 attention, appears to us like a sick man who tries a painful cure, 
 and who willingly, and even with satisfaction, endures the suffer- 
 ing it causes him, because he knows that the more he suffers 
 the more the cause of his disease is affected, and that therefore 
 the present suffering is the measure of his cure. 
 
 According to what has been said, the denial of the will to live, 
 which is just what is called absolute, entire resignation, or holi- 
 ness, always proceeds from that quieter of the will which the 
 knowledge of its inner conflict and essential vanity, expressing 
 themselves in the suffering of all living things, becomes. The 
 difference, which we have represented as two paths, consists in 
 whether that knowledge is called up by suffering which is merely 
 and purely known, and is freely appropriated by means of the 
 penetration of the principium individuationis, or by suffering 
 / which is directly felt by a man himself. True salvation, deliver- 
 ance from life and suffering, cannot even be imagined without 
 complete denial of the will. Till then, every one is simply this 
 will itself, whose manifestation is an ephemeral existence, a 
 constantly vain and empty striving, and the world full of suffer- 
 ing we have represented, to which all irrevocably and in like 
 manner belong. For we found above that life is always assured 
 to the will to live, and its one real form is the present, from which 
 they can never escape, since birth and death reign hi the phe- 
 nomenal world. The Indian mythus expresses this by saying 
 "they are born again." The great ethical difference of char- 
 acter means this, that the bad man is infinitely far from the at- 
 tainment of the knowledge from which the denial of the will 
 proceeds, and therefore he is in truth actually exposed to all the 
 miseries which appear in life as possible; for even the present 
 fortunate condition of his personality is merely a phenomenon 
 produced by the principium individuationis , and a delusion of 
 Maya, the happy dream of a beggar. The sufferings which in -, 
 the vehemence and ardour of his will he inflicts upon others are 
 the measure of the suffering, the experience of which in his own 
 person cannot break his will, and plainly lead it to the denial of 
 itself. All true and pure love, on the other hand, and even all 
 free justice, proceed from the penetration of the principium j 
 
THE WORLD AS WILL AND IDEA 671 
 
 individuationis, which, if it appears with its full power, results 
 in perfect sanctification and salvation, the phenomenon of which 
 is the state of resignation described above, the unbroken peace 
 which accompanies it, and the greatest delight in death. 
 
AUGUSTE COMTE 
 
 (1798-1857) 
 
 THE POSITIVE PHILOSOPHY 
 
 Freely translated and condensed from the French* by 
 HARRIET MARTINEAU 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 CHAPTER I. VIEW OF THE NATURE AND IM- 
 PORTANCE OF THE POSITIVE PHILOSOPHY 
 
 A GENERAL statement of any system of philosophy may be either 
 a sketch of a doctrine to be established, or a summary of a doc- 
 trine already established. If greater value belongs to the last, 
 the first is still important, as characterizing from its origin the 
 subject to be treated. In a case like the present, where the pro- 
 posed study is vast and hitherto indeterminate, it is especially 
 important that the field of research should be marked out with 
 all possible accuracy. For this purpose, I will glance at the con- 
 siderations which have originated this work, and which will be 
 fully elaborated in the course of it. 
 
 In order to understand the true value and character of the Posi- 
 tive Philosophy, we must take a brief generaLvJew-oflhe pro- 
 ^gressive course of the human mind, regarded as a whole ; for no 
 conceptionTcan be understood otherwise than through its history. 
 From the study of the development of human intelligence, in 
 all directions, and through all times, the discovery arises of a 
 great fundamental law, to which it is necessarily subject, and 
 which has a solid foundation of proof, both in the facts of our 
 organization and in our historical experience. The law is this : 
 that each of our leading conceptions, each branch of our 
 knowledge, passes successively through three different theo- 
 
 * From the Cours de Philosophic positive, Paris, 1830-1842. Reprinted from 
 A.-Comte's The Positive Philosophy, London, 1853, vol. i, ch. i. 
 
THE POSITIVE PHILOSOPHY 673 
 
 retical conditions : the Theological, or fictitious ; the Metaphys- 
 ical, or abstract ; and the Scientific, or positive. In other words, 
 the human mind, by its nature, employs in its progress three 
 methods of philosophizing, the character of which is essen- 
 tially different, and even radically opposed : viz., the theological 
 method, the metaphysical, and the positive. Hence arise three 
 philosophies, or general systems of conceptions on the aggregate 
 of phenomena, each of which excludes the others. The first is 
 the necessary point of departure of the human understanding; 
 and the third is its fixed and definitive state. The second is 
 merely a state of transition. 
 
 In the theological state, the human mind, seeking the essen- 
 tial nature of beings, the first and final causes (the origin and 
 purpose) of all effects, in short, Absolute knowledge, sup- 
 poses all phenomena^ frf prnrhifWj fry t n 
 
 of^supernaturaljbemgs. 
 
 In the metaphysical state, which is only a modification of the 
 first, the mind supposes, instead of supernatural beings, abstract 
 Jorces, veritable_entities (that is, personified abstractions) in- 
 herent in all beings, and capable of producing all phenomena. 
 What is called the explanation of phenomena is, in this stage, a 
 mere reference of each to its proper entity. 
 
 In the final, the positive state, the mind has given over the 
 vain search after Absolute notions, the origin and destination 
 of the universe, and the causes of phenomena, and arjrjlies itself 
 toj:he study of theirjaws, that is, their invariablereIa!Torrs 
 of. succession jmd resemblance. Reasoning ,and observation, 
 duly combined, are the means of this knowledge. What is now 
 understood when we speak of an explanation of facts is simply 
 the establishment of a connection between single phenomena 
 and some general facts, the number of which continually dimin- 
 ishes with the progress of science. 
 
 The Theological system arrived at the highest perfection of 
 which it is capable when it substituted the providential action 
 of a single Being for the varied operations of the numerous 
 divinities which had been before imagined. In the same way, 
 in the last stage of the Metaphysical system, men substitute one 
 
674 AUGUSTE COMTE 
 
 great entity (Nature) as the cause of all phenomena, instead of 
 the multitude of entities at first supposed. In the same way, 
 again, the ultimate perfection of the Positive system would be 
 (if such perfection could be hoped for) to represent all phenomena 
 as particular aspects of a single general fact ; such as Gravi- 
 tation, for instance. 
 
 The importance of the working of this general law will be 
 established hereafter. At present, it must suffice to point out 
 some of the grounds of it. 
 
 There is no science which, having attained the positive stage, 
 does not bear marks of having passed through the others. Some 
 time since it was (whatever it might be) composed, as we can 
 now perceive, of metaphysical abstractions; and, further back 
 in the course of time, it took its form from theological concep- 
 tions. We shall have only too much occasion to see, as we pro- 
 ceed, that our most advanced sciences still bear very evident 
 marks of the two earlier periods through which they have passed. 
 
 The progress of the individual mind is not only an illustra- 
 tion, but an indirect evidence of that of the general mind. The 
 point of departure of the individual and of the race being the 
 same, the phases of the mind of a man correspond to the epochs 
 of the mind of the race. Now, each of us is aware, if he looks 
 back upon his own history, that he was a theologian in his child- 
 hood, a metaphysician in his youth, and a natural philosopher 
 in his manhood. All men who are up to their age can verify this 
 for themselves. 
 
 Besides the observation of facts, we have theoretical reasons 
 in support of this law. 
 
 The most important of these reasons arises from the necessity 
 that always exists for some theory to which to refer our facts, 
 combined with the clear impossibility that, at the outset of 
 human knowledge, men could have formed theories out of the 
 observation of facts. All good intellects have repeated, since 
 Bacon's time, that there can be no real knowledge but that 
 which is based on observed facts. This is incontestable, in our 
 present advanced stage; but, if we look back to the primitive 
 stage of human knowledge, we shall see that it must have been 
 
THE POSITIVE PHILOSOPHY 
 
 otherwise then. If it is true that every theory must I 
 upon observed facts, it is equally true that facts canno 
 served without the guidance of some theory. Withe 
 guidance, our facts would be desultory and fruitless ; \ 
 not retain them : for the most part we could not even 
 them., 
 
 Thus, between the necessity of observing facts in 
 form a theory, and having a theory in order to obser 
 the human mind would have been entangled in a vicioi 
 but for the natural opening afforded by Theological con- 
 This is the fundamental reason for the theological cha 
 the primitive philosophy. This necessity is confirmee 
 perfect suitability of the theological philosophy to the 
 researches of the human mind. It is remarkable that t 
 inaccessible questions, those of the nature of beings, 
 origin and purpose of phenomena, should be the first 
 in a primitive state, while those which are really wit 
 reach are regarded as almost unworthy of serious stud 
 reason is evident enough : that experience alone can t 
 the measure of our powers; and if^men had not begur 
 exaggerated estimate of_what they can olo, they woul< 
 have done all that they are capablejqf. Our organizal 
 quires this. At such a period there could have been no re 
 of a positive philosophy, whose function is to discover t 
 of phenomena, and whose leading characteristic it is to 
 as interdicted to human reason those sublime mysteries 
 theology explains, even to their minutest details, with tl 
 attractive facility. It is just so under a practical view 
 nature of the researches with which men first occupiec 
 selves. Such inquiries offered the powerful charm of ur 
 empire over the external world, a world destined wh 
 our use, and involved in every way with our existenc 
 theological philosophy, presenting this view, admi: 
 exactly the stimulus necessary to incite the human min< 
 irksome labour without which it could make no progn 
 can now scarcely conceive of such a state of things, ou: 
 having become sufficiently mature to enter upon \'< 
 
AUGUSTE COMTE 
 
 ^searches, without needing any such stimulus as 
 pon the imaginations of astrologers and alchemists, 
 active enough in the hope of discovering the laws of 
 i, with a view to the confirmation or rejection of a 
 it it could not be so in the earliest days ; and it is to 
 as of astrology and alchemy that we owe the long 
 bservations and experiments on which our positive 
 :>ased. Kepler felt this on behalf of astronomy, and 
 on behalf of chemistry. Thus was a spontaneous 
 , the theological, the only possible beginning, method, 
 ional system, out of which the Positive philosophy 
 . It is easy, after this, to perceive how Metaphysical 
 id doctrines must have afforded the means of transi- 
 he one to the other. 
 
 lan understanding, slow in its advance, could not 
 e from the theological into the positive philosophy, 
 e so radically opposed, that an intermediate system 
 ons has been necessary to render the transition pos- 
 
 only in doing this, that Metaphysical conceptions 
 tility whatever. In contemplating phenomena, men 
 : or supernatural direction a corresponding entity. 
 
 may have been supposed to be derived from the 
 tl action : but it is more easily lost sight of, leaving 
 ee for the facts themselves, till, at length, metaphys- 
 have ceased to be anything more than the abstract 
 lenomena. It is not easy to say by what other pro- 
 lis our minds could have passed from supernatural 
 >ns to natural; from the theological system to the 
 
 of human development- being thus established, let 
 what is the proper nature of the Positive Philosophy. 
 ve seen, the first characteristic of the Positive Philo- 
 tMtj^gar^^aJl^^he^omaia ajs subjecteoMo invari- 
 
 Laws. Our business is, seeing how vain is any 
 :o what are called Causes, whether first or final, 
 a accurate discovery of these Laws, with a view to 
 sm to the smallest possible number. By speculating 
 
THE POSITIVE PHILOSOPHY 677 
 
 upon causes, we could solve no difficulty about origin and pur- 
 pose. Our real business is to analyse accurately the circum- 
 stances of phenomenay-and-^ eomreet-thefHr by the natural re- 
 lationsjDf succession and resemblance. The best illustration of 
 this is in the case of .the doctrine of Gravitation. We say that 
 the general phenomena of the universe are explained by it, be- 
 cause it connects under one head the whole immense variety of 
 astronomical facts; exhibiting the constant tendency of atoms 
 towards each other in direct proportion to their masses, and in 
 inverse proportion to the squares of their distances ; whilst the 
 general fact itself is a mere extension of one which is perfectly 
 familiar to us, and which we therefore say that we know ; 
 the weight of bodies on the surface of the earth. As to what 
 weight and attraction are, we have nothing to do with that, for 
 it is not a matter of knowledge at all. Theologians and meta- 
 physicians may imagine and refine about such questions; but 
 positive philosophy rejects them. When any attempt has been 
 made to explain them, it has ended only hi saying that attrac- f 
 tion is universal weight, and that weight is terrestrial attraction : ^ 
 that is, that the two orders of phenomena are identical; which 
 is the point from which the question set out. Again, M. Fourier, 
 in his fine series of researches on Heat, has given us all the most 
 important and precise laws of the phenomena of heat, and many 
 large and new truths, without once inquiring into its nature, as 
 his predecessors had done when they disputed about calorific 
 matter and the action of an universal ether. In treating his sub- 
 ject in the Positive method, he finds inexhaustible material for 
 all his activity of research, without betaking himself to insoluble 
 questions. 
 
 Before ascertaining the stage which the Positive Philosophy 
 has reached, we must bear in mind that the different kinds of 
 our knowledge have passed through the three stages of progress 
 at different rates, and have not therefore arrived at the same 
 time. The rate of advance depends on the nature of the know- 
 ledge in question, so distinctly that, as we shall see hereafter, 
 this consideration constitutes an accessory to the fundamental 
 law of progress. Any kind of knowledge reaches the positive 
 
678 AUGUSTE COMTE 
 
 stage early in proportion to its generality, simplicity, and inde- 
 pendence of other departments. Astronomical science, which is 
 above all made up of facts that are general, simple, and inde- 
 pendent of other sciences, arrived first ; then terrestrial Physics ; 
 then Chemistry; and, at length, Physiology. 
 
 It is difficult to assign any precise date to this revolution in 
 science. It may be said, like everything else, to have been al- 
 ways going on ; and especially since the labours of Aristotle and 
 the school of Alexandria; and then from the introduction of 
 natural science into the West of Europe by the Arabs. But, if 
 we must fix upon some marked period, to serve as a rallying 
 point, it must be that, about two centuries ago, when the 
 human mind was astir under the precepts of Bacon, the con- 
 ceptions of Descartes, and the discoveries of Galileo. Then it 
 was that the spirit of the Positive philosophy rose up in opposi- 
 tion to that of the superstitious and scholastic systems which 
 had hitherto obscured the true character of all science. Since 
 that date, the progress of the Positive philosophy, and the de- 
 cline of the other two, have been so marked that no rational 
 mind now doubts that the revolution is destined to go on to its 
 completion, every branch of knowledge being, sooner or later, 
 brought within the operation of Positive philosophy. This is 
 not yet the case. Some are still lying outside : and not till they 
 are brought in will the Positive philosophy possess that char- 
 acter of universality which is necessary to its definitive consti- 
 tution. 
 
 In mentioning just now the four principal categories of 
 phenomena, astronomical, physical, chemical, and physio- 
 logical, there was an omission which will have been noticed. 
 Nothing,, was said of Social phenomena. Though involved with 
 the physiological, Social phenomena demand a distinct classi- 
 fication, both on account of their importance and of their diffi- 
 culty. They are the most individual, the most complicated, the 
 most dependent on all others; and therefore they must be the 
 latest, even if they had no special obstacle to encounter. This 
 branch of science has not hitherto entered into the domain of 
 Positive philosophy. Theological and metaphysical methods, 
 
THE POSITIVE PHILOSOPHY 679 
 
 exploded in other departments, are as yet exclusively applied, 
 both in the way of inquiry and discussion, in all treatment of 
 Social subjects, though the best minds are heartily weary of 
 eternal disputes about divine right and the sovereignty of the 
 people. This is the great, while it is evidently the only gap which 
 has to 'tie filled, to constitute, solid and entire, the Positive Phi- 
 losophy. Now that the human mind has grasped celestial 
 and terrestrial physics, mechanical and chemical; organic 
 physics, both vegetable and animal, there remains one science, 
 to fill up the series of sciences of observation, Social physics. 
 This is what men have now most need of : and this it is the prin- 
 cipal aim of the present work to establish. 
 
 It would be absurd to pretend to offer this new science at once 
 in a complete state. Others, less new, are in very unequal con- 
 ditions of forwardness. But the same character of positivity 
 which is impressed on all the others will be shown to belong to 
 this. This once done, the philosophical system of the moderns 
 will be in fact complete, as there will then be no phenomenon 
 which does not naturally enter into some one of the five great 
 categories. All our fundamental conceptions having become 
 homogeneous, the Positive state will be fully established. It 
 can never again change its character, though it will be for ever 
 in course of development by additions of new knowledge^ Hav- 
 ing acquired the character of universality which has hitherto 
 been the only advantage resting with the two preceding systems, 
 it will supersede them by its natural superiority, and leave to 
 them only an historical existence. 
 
 We have stated the special aim of this work. Its secondary 
 and general aim is this: to review what has been effected in 
 the Sciences, in order to show that they are not radically separate, 
 but all branches from the same trunk. If we had confined our- 
 selves to the first and special object of the work, we should have 
 produced merely a study of Social physics: whereas, in intro- 
 ducing the second and general we offer a study of Positive phi- 
 losophy, passing in review all the positive sciences already 
 formed. 
 
 The purpose of this work is not to give an account of the 
 
680 AUGUSTE COMTE 
 
 Natural Sciences. Besides that it would be endless, and that it 
 would require a scientific preparation such as no one man pos- 
 sesses, it would be apart from our object, which is to go through 
 a course of not Positive Science, but Positive Philosophy. We 
 have only to consider each fundamental science in its relation 
 to the whole positive system, and to the spirit which characterizes 
 it ; that is, with regard to its methods and its chief results. 
 \ The two aims, though distinct, are inseparable; for, on the 
 one hand, there can be no positive philosophy without a basis 
 of social science, without which it could not be all-comprehen- 
 sive ; and, on the other hand, we could not pursue Social science 
 without having been prepared by the study of phenomena less 
 complicated than those of society, and furnished with a know- 
 ledge of laws and anterior facts which have a bearing upon social 
 science. Though the fundamental sciences are not all equally 
 interesting to ordinary minds, there is no one of them that can 
 be neglected in an inquiry like the present; and, in the eye of 
 philosophy, all are of equal value to human welfare. Even those 
 which appear the least interesting have their own value, either 
 on account of the perfection of their methods, or as being the 
 necessary basis of all the others. 
 
 Lest it should be supposed that our course will lead us into a 
 wilderness of such special studies as are at present the bane of a 
 true positive philosophy, we will briefly advert to the existing 
 prevalence of such special pursuit. In the primitive state of 
 human knowledge there is no regular division of intellectual 
 labour. Every student cultivates all the sciences. As knowledge 
 accrues, the sciences part off; and students devote themselves 
 each to some one branch. It is owing to this division of employ- 
 ment, and concentration of whole minds upon a single depart- 
 ment, that science has made so prodigious an advance in modern 
 times ; and the perfection of this division is one of the most im- 
 portant characteristics of the Positive philosophy. But, while 
 admitting all the merits of this change, we cannot be blind to 
 the eminent disadvantages which arise from the limitation of 
 minds to a particular study. It is inevitable that each should be 
 possessed with exclusive notions, and be therefore incapable of 
 
THE POSITIVE PHILOSOPHY 68 1 
 
 the general superiority of ancient students, who actually owed 
 that general superiority to the inferiority of their knowledge. 
 We must consider whether the evil can be avoided without losing 
 the good of the modern arrangement; for the evil is becoming 
 urgent. We all acknowledge that the divisions established for the 
 convenience of scientific pursuit are radically artificial ; and yet 
 there are very few who can embrace hi idea the whole of any 
 one science : each science moreover being itself only a part of a 
 great whole. Almost every one is busy about his own particular 
 section, without much thought about its relation to the general 
 system of positive knowledge. We must not be blind to the evil, 
 nor slow in seeking a remedy. We must not forget that this is 
 the weak side of the positive philosophy, by which it may yet be 
 attacked, with some hope of success, by the adherents of the 
 theological and metaphysical systems. As to the remedy, it cer- 
 tainly does not lie in a return to the ancient confusion of pur- 
 suits, which would be mere retrogression, if it were possible, which 
 it is not. It lies in perfecting the division of employments itself, 
 in carrying it one degree higher, in constituting one more 
 speciality from the study of scientific generalities. Let us have a 
 new class of students, suitably prepared, whose business it shall 
 be to take the respective sciences as they are, determine the 
 spirit of each, ascertain their relations and mutual connection, 
 and reduce their respective principles to the smallest number 
 of general principles, in conformity with the fundamental rules 
 of the Positive Method. At the same time, let other students 
 be prepared for their special pursuit by an education which re- 
 cognizes the whole scope of positive science, so as to profit by 
 the labours of the students of generalities, and so as to correct 
 reciprocally, under that guidance, the results obtained by each. 
 We see some approach already to this arrangement. Once estab- 
 lished, there would be nothing to apprehend from any extent 
 of division of employments. When we once have a class of 
 learned men, at the disposal of all others, whose business it shall 
 be to connect each new discovery with the general system, we 
 jnay dismiss all fear of the great whole being lost sight of in the 
 pursuit of the detailsof knowledge. The organization of scien- 
 
682 AUGUSTE COMTE 
 
 tific research will then be complete ; and it will henceforth have 
 occasion only to extend its development, and not to change its 
 character. After all, the formation of such a new class as is pro- 
 posed would be merely an extension of the principle which has 
 created all the classes we have. While science was narrow, there 
 was only one class : as it expanded, more were instituted. With 
 a further advance a fresh need arises, and this new class will be 
 the result. 
 
 The general spirit of a course of Positive Philosophy having 
 been thus set forth, we must now glance at the chief advantages 
 which may be derived, on behalf of human progression, from 
 the study of it. Of these advantages, four may be especially 
 pointed out. 
 
 I. The study of the Positive Philosophy affords the only 
 rational means of exhibiting the logical laws of the human mind, 
 which have hitherto been sought by unfit methods. To explain 
 what is meant by this, we may refer to a saying of M. de Blain- 
 ville, in his work on Comparative Anatomy, that every active, 
 and especially every living being, may be regarded under two 
 relations thejjtatical and the DynamicajjjthaHs, under con- 
 ditions or in action. It is clear that all considerations range 
 themselves under the one or the other of these heads. Let us 
 apply this classification to the intellectual functions. 
 
 If we regard these functions under their Statical aspect 
 that is, if we consider the conditions under which they exist 
 we must determine the organic circumstances of the case, which 
 inquiry involves it with anatomy and physiology. If we look at 
 the Dynamic aspect, we have to study simply the exercise and 
 results of the intellectual powers of the human race, which is 
 neither more nor less than the general object of the Positive 
 Philosophy. In short, looking at all scientific theories as so many 
 great logical facts, it is only by the thorough observation of these 
 facts that we can arrive at the knowledge of logical laws. These 
 being the only means of knowledge of intellectual phenomena, 
 the illusory psychology, which is the last phase of theology, is 
 excluded. It pretends to accomplish the discovery of the laws 
 of the human mind by contemplating it in itself; that is, by 
 
THE POSITIVE PHILOSOPHY 683 
 
 separating it* from causes and effects. Such an attempt, made 
 in defiance of the physiological study of our intellectual organs, 
 and of the observation of rational methods of procedure, cannot 
 succeed at this time of day. 
 
 The Positive Philosophy, which has been rising since the 
 time of Bacon, has now secured such a preponderance, that 
 the metaphysicians themselves profess to ground their pretended 
 science on an observation of facts. They talk of external and in- 
 ternal facts, and say that their business is with the latter. This 
 is much like saying that vision is explained by luminous objects 
 painting their images upon the retina. To this the physiolo- 
 gists reply that another eye would be needed to see the image. 
 In the same manner, the mind may observe all phenomena but 
 itsjpwn. It may be said that a man's intellect may ob'serve his 
 passions, the seat of the reason being somewhat apart from that 
 of the emotions in the brain ; but there can be notHing like scien- 
 tific observation of the passions, except from without, as the stir 
 of the emotions disturbs the observing faculties more or less. 
 It is yet more out of Hr* gnpsHnn |p make an intellectual obser- 
 vation of intellectual processes. The observing and observed 
 organs are here the same, and its action cannot be pure and natu- 
 ral. In order to observe, your intellect must pause from activity ; 
 yet it is this very activity that you want to observe. If you can- 
 not effect the pause, you cannot observe : if you do effect it, there 
 is nothing to observe. The results of such a method are in pro- 
 portion to its absurdity. After two thousand years of psycholo- 
 gical pursuit, no one proposition is established to the satisfaction 
 of its followers. They are divided, to this day, into a multi- 
 tude of schools, still disputing about the very elements of their 
 doctrine. This interior observation gives birth to almost as many 
 theories as there are observers. We ask in vain for any one dis- 
 covery, great or small, which has been made under this method. 
 The psychologists have done some good in keeping up the ac- 
 tivity of our understandings, when there was no better work for 
 our faculties to do ; and they may have added something to our 
 stock of knowledge. If they have done so, it is by practising Ihf 
 Positive method by observing the progress of tlfcp hun 
 
684 AUGUSTE COMTE 
 
 mind in the light of science ; that is, by ceasing, for the moment, 
 to be psychologists. 
 
 The view just given in relation to logical Science becomes yet 
 more striking when we consider the logical Art. 
 
 The Positive Method can be judged of only in action. It can- 
 not be looked at by itself, apart from the work on which it is 
 employed. At all events, such a contemplation would be only a 
 dead study, which could produce nothing in the mind which 
 loses time upon it. We may talk for ever about the method, and 
 state it in terms very wisely, without knowing half so much about 
 it as the man who has once put it hi practice upon a single par- 
 ticular of actual research, even without any philosophical inten- 
 tion. Thus it is that psychologists, by dint of reading the pre- 
 cepts of "Bacon and the discourses of Descartes, have mistaken 
 their own dreams for science. 
 
 Without saying whether it will ever be possible to establish 
 & priori a true method of investigation, independent of a phi- 
 losophical study of the sciences, it is clear that the thing has 
 never been done yet, and that we are not capable of doing it 
 now. We cannot as yet explain the great logical procedures, 
 ^apart frnnxJLheir^a^rjplications. If we ever do, it will remain as 
 necessary then as now to form good intellectual habits by study- 
 ing the regular application of the scientific methods which we 
 shall have attained. 
 
 This, then, is the first great result of the Positive Philosophy 
 the manifestation by experiment of the laws which rule the 
 Intellect in the investigation of truth ; and, as a consequence the 
 knowledge of the general rules suitable for that object. 
 
 II. The second effect of the Positive Philosophy, an effect 
 not less important and far more urgently wanted, will be to re- 
 generate Education. The best minds are agreed that our Euro- 
 pean education, still essentially theological, metaphysical, and 
 literary, must be superseded by a Positive training, conformable 
 to our time and needs. Even the governments of our day have 
 shared, where they have not originated, the attempts to estab- 
 lish positive instruction ; and this is a striking indication of the 
 prevalent sense of what is wanted. While encouraging such 
 
THE POSITIVE PHILOSOPHY 685 
 
 endeavours to the utmost, we must not however conceal from our- 
 selves that everything yet done is inadequate to the object. /The 
 present exclusive speciality of our pursuits, and the consequent 
 isolation of the sciences, spoil our teaching^ If any student de- 
 sires to form an idea of natural philosophy as a whole, he is com- 
 pelled to go through each department as it is now taught, as if 
 he were to be only an astronomer, or only a chemist ; so that, be 
 his intellect what it may, his training must remain very imperfect. 
 And yet his object requires that he should obtain general posi- 
 tive conceptions of all the classes of natural phenomena. It is 
 such an aggregate of conceptions, whether on a great or on a 
 small scale, which must henceforth be the permanent basis of 
 all human combinations. It will constitute the mind of future 
 generations. In order to this regeneration of our intellectual 
 system, it is necessary that the sciences, considered as branches 
 from one trunk, should yield us, as a whole, their chief methods 
 and their most important results. The specialities of science 
 can be pursued by those whose vocation lies in that direction. 
 They are indispensable ; and they are not likely to be neglected ; 
 but they can never of themselves renovate our system of Educa- 
 tion ; and, to be of their full use, they must rest upon the basis of 
 that general instruction which is a direct result of the Positive 
 Philosophy. 
 
 III. The same special study of scientific generalities must 
 also aid the progress of the respective positive sciences : and this 
 constitutes our third head of advantages. 
 
 The divisions which we establish between the sciences are, 
 though not arbitrary, essentially artificial. The subject of our 
 researches is one : we divide it for our convenience, in order to 
 deal the more easily with its difficulties. But it sometimes hap- 
 pens and especially with the most important doctrines of 
 each science that we need what we cannot obtain under the 
 present isolation of the sciences, a combination of several 
 special points of view ; and for want of this, very important prob- 
 lems wait for their solution much longer than they otherwise 
 need do. To go back into the past for an example : Descartes' 
 grand conception with regard to analytical geometry is a dis- 
 
686 AUGUSTE COMTE 
 
 co very which has changed the whole aspect of mathematical 
 science, and yielded the germ of all future progress ; and it issued 
 froirTtlie union of two sciences which had always before been 
 separately regarded and pursued. The case of pending ques- 
 tions is yet more impressive ; as, for instance, in Chemistry, the 
 doctrine of Definite Proportions. Without . entering upon the 
 discussion of the fundamental principle of this theory, we may 
 say with assurance that, in order to determine it in order to 
 determine whether it is a law of nature that atoms should neces- 
 sarily combine in fixed numbers, it will be indispensable that 
 the chemical point of view should be united with the physio- 
 logical. The failure of the theory with regard to organic bodies 
 indicates that the cause of this immense exception must be in- 
 vestigated ; and such an inquiry belongs as much to physiology 
 as to chemistry. Again, it is as yet undecided whether azote r ^ 
 simple or a compound body. It was concluded by almost c 
 chemists that azote is a simple body; the illustrious Berzelius 
 hesitated, on purely chemical considerations; but he was also 
 influenced by the physiological observation that animals which 
 receive no azote in their food have as much of it in their tissues 
 as carnivorous animals. From this we see how physiology must 
 unite with chemistry to inform us whether azote is simple or 
 compound, and to institute a new series of researches upon the 
 relation between the composition of living bodies and their mode 
 of alimentation. 
 
 Such is the advantage which, in the third place, we shall owe 
 to Positive philosophy the elucidation of the respective sci- 
 ences by their combination. In the fourth place 
 
 IV. The Positive Philosophy offers the only solid basis for 
 that Social Reorganization which must succeed the critical con- 
 dition in which the most civilized nations are now living. 
 
 It cannot be necessary to prove to anybody who reads this 
 work that Ideas govern the world, or throw it into chaos; in 
 other words, that all social mechanism rests upon Opinions. 
 ( The great political and moral crisis that societies are now under- 
 going is shown by a rigid analysis tc^arise out t of jntellectual 
 anarchy } While stability in fundamental maxims is the first 
 
THE POSITIVE PHILOSOPHY 687 
 
 condition of genuine social order, we are suffering under an utter 
 disagreement which may be called universal. (Till a certain 
 number of general ideas can be acknowledged as a rallying- 
 point of social doctrine, the nations will remain in a revolutionary 
 state, whatever palliatives may be devised ; and their institutions 
 can be only provisional.^ But whenever the necessary agreement 
 on first principles can be obtained, appropriate institutions will 
 issue from them, without shock or resistance ; for the causes of 
 disorder will have been arrested by the mere fact of the agree- 
 ment. It is in this direction that those must look who desire a 
 natural and regular, a normal state of society. 
 \ Now, the existing disorder is abundantly accounted for by 
 the existence, all at once, of three incompatible philosophies, - 
 the theological, the metaphysical, and the positive. /A n y one of 
 these might alone secure some sort of social order ; but while the 
 three co-exist, it is impossible for us to understand one another 
 upon any essential point whatever. If this is true, we have only 
 to ascertain which of the philosophies must, in the nature of 
 things, prevail ; and, this ascertained, every man, whatever may 
 have been his former views, cannot but concur in its triumph. 
 The problem once recognized cannot remain long unsolved; 
 for all considerations whatever point to the Positive Philosophy 
 as the one destined to prevail. It alone has been advancing dur- 
 ing a course of centuries, throughout which the others have been 
 declining. The fact is incontestable. Some may deplore it, but 
 none can destroy it, nor therefore neglect it but under penalty of 
 being betrayed by illusory speculations. This general revolu- 
 tion of the human mind is nearly accomplished. We have only 
 to complete the Positive Philosophy by bringing Social phe- 
 nomena within its comprehension, and afterwards consolidating 
 the whole into one body of homogeneous doctrine. The marked 
 preference which almost all minds, from the highest to the com- 
 monest, accord to positive knowledge over vague and mystical 
 conceptions, is a pledge of what the reception of this philosophy 
 will be when it has acquired the only quality that it now wants 
 a character of due generality. When it has become complete, 
 its supremacy will take place spontaneously, and will re-estab- 
 
688 AUGUSTE COMTE 
 
 lish order throughout society. There is, at present, no conflict 
 but between the theological and the metaphysical philosophies. 
 They are contending for the task of reorganizing society ; but it 
 is a work too mighty for either of them. The positive philosophy 
 has hitherto intervened only to examine both, and both are abun- 
 dantly discredited by the process. It is tune now to be doing 
 something more effective, without wasting our forces in needless 
 controversy. It is time to complete the vast intellectual opera- 
 tion begun by Bacon, Descartes, and Galileo, by constructing 
 the system of general ideas which must henceforth prevail 
 among the human race. This is the way to put an end to the 
 revolutionary crisis which is tormenting the civilized nations ct 
 the world. 
 
 Leaving these four points of advantage, we must attend k 
 one precautionary reflection. 
 
 ? v Because it is proposed to consolidate the whole of our acquired 
 knowledge into one body of homogeneous doctrine, it must not 
 be supposed that we are going to study this vast variety as pro- 
 ceeding from a single principle, and as subjected to a single law. L 
 There is something so chimerical in attempts at universal ex- 
 planation by a single law, that it may be as well to secure this 
 Work at once from any imputation of the kind, though its de- 
 velopment will show how undeserved such an imputation would 
 be. Our intellectual resources are too narrow, and the universe 
 is too complex, to leave any hope that it will ever be within our 
 power to carry scientific perfection to its last degree of simplicity. 
 Moreover, it appears as if the value of such an attainment, sup- 
 posing it possible, were greatly overrated. The only way, for 
 instance, in which we could achieve the business, would be by 
 connecting all natural phenomena with the most general law 
 we know, which is that of Gravitation, by which astronomical 
 phenomena are already connected with a portion of terrestrial 
 physics. Laplace has indicated that chemical phenomena may 
 be regarded as simple atomic effects of the Newtonian attraction, 
 modified by the form and mutual position of the atoms. But 
 supposing this view proveable (which it cannot be while we are 
 without data about the constitution of bodies), the difficulty of 
 
THE POSITIVE PHILOSOPHY 689 
 
 its application would doubtless be found so great that we must 
 still maintain the existing division between astronomy and chem- 
 istry, with the difference that we now regard as natural that 
 division which we should then call artificial. Laplace himself 
 presented his idea only as a philosophic device, incapable of 
 exercising any useful influence over the progress of chemical 
 science. Moreover, supposing this insuperable difficulty over- 
 come, we should be no nearer to scientific unity, since we then 
 should still have to connect the whole of physiological phe- 
 nomena with the same law, which certainly would not be the 
 least difficult part of the enterprise. Yet, all things considered, 
 the hypothesis we have glanced at would be the most favourable 
 to the desired unity. 
 
 The consideration of all phenomena as referable to a single 
 origin is by no means necessary to the systematic formation of 
 science, any more than to the realization of the great and happy 
 consequences that we anticipate from the positive philosophy. 
 The only necessary unity is that of Method, which is already in 
 great part established. As forjhe dogtrJne, it need not be-0ne; 
 it is enough that it. should he homogeneous. It is, then, under the 
 double aspect of unity of method and homogeneousnessof doc- 
 trine that we shall consider the different classes of positive 
 theories in this work. While pursuing the philosophical aim of 
 all science, the lessening of the number of general laws requisite 
 for the explanation of natural phenomena, we shall regard as 
 presumptuous every attempt, in all future time, to reduce them 
 rigorously to one. 
 
 Having thus endeavoured to determine the spirit and influence 
 of the Positive Philosophy, and to mark the goal of our labours, 
 we have now to proceed to the exposition of the system ; that is, 
 to the determination of the universal, or encyclopaedic order, 
 which must regulate the different classes of natural phenomena, 
 and consequently the corresponding positive sciences. 
 
JOHN STUART MILL 
 
 (1806-1873) 
 
 AN EXAMINATION OF SIR WILLIAM HAMIL- 
 TON'S PHILOSOPHY 
 
 CHAPTER XL THE PSYCHOLOGICAL THEORY 
 OF THE BELIEF IN AN EXTERNAL WORLD* 
 
 WE have seen Sir W. Hamilton at work on the question of the 
 reality of Matter, by the introspective method, and, as it seems, 
 with little result. Let us now approach the same subject by the 
 psychological. I proceed, therefore, to state the case of those 
 who hold that the belief in an external world is not an intuitive, 
 but an acquired product. 
 
 This theory postulates the following psychological truths, all 
 of which are proved by experience, and are not contested, though 
 their force is seldom adequately felt, by Sir W. Hamilton and 
 the other thinkers of the introspective school. 
 
 It postulates, first, that the human mind is capable of Expec- 
 tation. In other words, that after having had actual sensations, 
 we are capable of forming the conception of Possible sensa- 
 tions; sensations which we are not feeling at the present mo- 
 ment, but which we might feel, and should feel if certain 
 conditions were present, the nature of which conditions we 
 have, in many cases, learned by experience. 
 
 It postulates, secondly, the laws of the Association of Ideas. 
 So far as we are here concerned, these laws are the follow- 
 ing: ist. Similar phaenomena tend to be thought of together. 
 2d. Phaenomena which have either been experienced or con- 
 ceived in close contiguity to one another, tend to be thought of 
 together. The contiguity is of two kinds ; simultaneity and imme- 
 diate succession. Facts which have been experienced or thought 
 of simultaneously, recall the thought of one another. Of facts 
 
 * Reprinted from J. S. Mill's An Examination oj Sir William Hamilton's 
 Philosophy, London, Longmans, Green & Co., 1865. 
 
SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON'S PHILOSOPHY 691 
 
 which have been experienced or thought of in immediate suc- 
 cession, the antecedent, or the thought of it, recalls the thought 
 of the consequent, but not conversely. 3d. Associations pro- 
 duced by contiguity become more certain and rapid by repeti- 
 tion. When two phenomena have been very often experienced 
 in conjunction, and have not, in any single instance, occurred 
 separately either in experience or in thought, there is produced 
 between them what has been called Inseparable, or less correctly, 
 Indissoluble Association : by which is not meant that the asso- 
 ciation must inevitably last to the end of life that no subse- 
 quent experience or process of thought can possibly avail to 
 dissolve it ; but only that as long as no such experience or pro- 
 cess of thought has taken place, the association is irresistible; 
 it is impossible for us to think the one thing disjoined from the 
 other. 4th. When an association has acquired this character of 
 inseparability when the bond between the two ideas has been 
 thus firmly riveted, not only does the idea called up by asso- 
 ciation become, in our consciousness, inseparable from the idea 
 which suggested it, but the facts or phenomena answering to 
 those ideas, come at last to seem inseparable in existence : things 
 which we are unable to conceive apart, appear incapable of 
 existing apart; and the belief we have in their coexistence, 
 though really a product of experience, seems intuitive. Innu- 
 merable examples might be given of this law. One of the most 
 familiar, as well as the most striking, is that of our acquired 
 perceptions of sight. Even those who, with Mr. Bailey, con- 
 sider the perception of distance by the eye as not acquired, but 
 intuitive, admit that there are many perceptions of sight which, 
 though instantaneous and unhesitating, are not intuitive. What 
 we see is a very minute fragment of what we think we see. 
 We see artificially that one thing is hard, another soft. We see 
 artificially that one thing is hot, another cold. We see artifi- 
 cially that what we see is a book, or a stone, each of these being 
 not merely an inference, but a heap of inferences, from the signs 
 which we see, to things not visible. 
 
 Setting out from these premises, the Psychological Theory 
 maintains, that there are associations naturally and even neces- 
 
692 MILL 
 
 sarily generated by the /order of oui sensations and of our re- 
 miniscences of sensation, which, supposing no intuition of an 
 external world to have existed in consciousness, would inevit- 
 ably generate the belief, and would cause it to be regarded as 
 an intuition. 
 
 What is it we mean when we say that the object we perceive 
 is external to us, and not a part of our own thoughts ? We mean, 
 that there is in our perceptions something which exists when 
 we are not thinking of it; which existed before we had ever 
 thought of it, and would exist if we were annihilated ; and fur- 
 ther, that there exist things which we never saw, touched, or 
 otherwise perceived, and things which never have been per- 
 ceived by man. This idea of something which is distinguished 
 from our fleeting impressions by what, in Kantian language, is 
 called Perdurability ; something which is fixed and the same, 
 while our impressions vary ; something which exists whether we 
 are aware of it or not, and which is always square (or of some 
 other given figure) whether it appears to us square or round 
 constitutes altogether our idea of external substance. Whoever 
 can assign an origin to this complex conception, has accounted 
 for what we mean by the belief in matter. Now, all this, accord- 
 ing to the Psychological Theory, is but the form impressed by 
 the known laws of association, upon the conception or notion, 
 obtained by experience, of Contingent Sensations; by which 
 are meant, sensations that are not in our present consciousness, 
 and perhaps never were in our consciousness at all, but which, 
 in virtue of the laws to which we have learned by experience 
 that our sensations are subject, we know that we should have 
 felt under given supposable circumstances, and under these 
 same circumstances, might still feel. 
 
 I see a piece of white paper on a table. I go into another room, 
 and though I have ceased to see it, I am persuaded that the 
 paper is still there. I no longer have the sensations which it gave 
 me ; but I believe that when I again place myself in the circum- 
 stances in which I had those sensations, that is, when I go again 
 into the room, I shall again have them; and further, that there 
 has been no intervening moment at which this would not have 
 
SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON'S PHILOSOPHY 693 
 
 been the case. Owing to this property of my mind, my conception 
 of the world at any given instant consists, in only a small pro- 
 portion, of present sensations. Of these I may at the time have 
 none at all, and they are in any case a most insignificant portion 
 of the whole which I apprehend. The conception I form of the 
 world existing at any moment, comprises, along with the sen- 
 sations I am feeling, a countless variety of possibilities of sen- 
 sations : namely, the whole of those which past observation tells 
 me that I could, under any supposable circumstances, experi- 
 ence- at this moment, together with an indefinite and illimitable 
 multitude of others which though I do not know that I could, 
 yet it is possible that I might, experience in circumstances not 
 known to me. These various possibilkies are the important 
 thing to me in the world. My present sensations are generally 
 of little importance, and are moreover fugitive : the possibilities, 
 on the contrary, are permanent, which is the character that 
 mainly distinguishes our idea of Substance or Matter from our 
 notion of sensation. These possibilities, which are conditional 
 certainties, need a special name to distinguish them from mere 
 vague possibilities, which experience gives no warrant for reck- 
 oning upon. Now, as soon as a distinguishing name is given, 
 though it be only to the same thing regarded in a different aspect, 
 one of the most familiar experiences of our mental nature teaches 
 us, that the different name comes to be considered as the name 
 of a different thing. 
 
 There is another important peculiarity of these certified or 
 guaranteed possibilities of sensation; namely, that they have 
 reference, not to single sensations, but to sensations joined to- 
 gether in groups. When we think of anything as a material 
 substance, or body, we either have had, or we think that on some 
 given supposition we should have, not some one sensation, but 
 a great and even an indefinite number and variety of sensations, 
 generally belonging to different senses, but so linked together, 
 that the presence of one announces the possible presence at the 
 very same instant of any or all of the rest. In our mind, there- 
 fore, not only is this particular Possibility of sensation invested 
 with the quality of permanence when we are not actually feeling 
 
694 MILL 
 
 any of the sensations at all; but when we are feeling some of 
 them, the remaining sensations of the group are conceived by 
 us in the form of Present Possibilities, which might be realized 
 at the very moment. And as this happens in turn to all of them, 
 the group as a whole presents itself to the mind as permanent, 
 in contrast not solely with the temporariness of my bodily pre- 
 sence, but also with the temporary character of each of the 
 sensations composing the group; in -other words, as a kind of 
 permanent substratum, under a set of passing experiences or 
 manifestations : which is another leading character of our idea 
 of substance or matter, as distinguished from sensation. 
 
 Let us now take into consideration another of the general 
 characters of our experience, namely, that in addition to fixed 
 groups, we also recognize a fixed Order in our sensations; an 
 Order of succession, which, when ascertained by observation, 
 gives rise to the ideas of Cause and Effect, according to what 
 I hold to be the true theory of that relation, and is in any case 
 the source of all our knowledge what causes produce what effects. 
 Now, of what nature is this fixed order among our sensations ? 
 It is a constancy of antecedence and sequence. But the constant 
 antecedence and sequence do not generally exist between one 
 actual sensation and another. Very few such sequences are pre- 
 sented to us by experience. In almost all the constant sequences 
 which occur hi Nature, the antecedence and consequence do 
 not obtain between sensations, but between the groups we have 
 been speaking about, of which a very small portion is actual 
 sensation, the greater part being permanent possibilities of 
 sensation, evidenced to us by a small and variable number of 
 sensations actually present. Hence, our ideas of causation, power, 
 activity, do not become connected in thought with our sensations 
 as actual at all, save in the few physiological cases where these 
 figure by themselves as the antecedents in some uniform sequence. 
 Those ideas become connected, not with sensations, but with 
 groups of possibilities of sensation. The sensations conceived 
 do not, to our habitual thoughts, present themselves as sensa- 
 tions actually experienced, inasmuch as not only any one or any 
 number of them may be supposed absent, but none of them need 
 
SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON'S PHILOSOPHY 695 
 
 be present. We find that the modifications which are taking 
 place more or less regularly in our possibilities of sensation, are 
 mostly quite independent of our consciousness, and of our pre- 
 sence or absence. Whether we are asleep or awake, the fire goes 
 out, and puts an end to one particular possibility of warmth 
 and light. Whether we are present or absent, the corn ripens, 
 and brings a new possibility of food. Hence we speedily learn 
 to think of Nature as made up solely of these groups of possi- 
 bilities, and the active force in Nature as manifested in the modi- 
 fication of some of these by others. The sensations, though the 
 original foundation of the whole, come to be looked upon as a 
 sort of accident depending on us, and the possibilities as much 
 more real than the actual sensations, nay, as the very realities 
 of which these are only the representations, appearances, or 
 effects. When this state of mind has been arrived at, then, and 
 from that time forward, we are never conscious of a present 
 sensation without instantaneously referring it to some one of 
 the groups of possibilities into which a sensation of that particular 
 description enters ; and if we do not yet know to what group to 
 refer it, we at least feel an irresistible conviction that it must 
 belong to some group or other ; i. e. that its presence proves the 
 existence, here and now, of a great number and variety of possi- 
 bilities of sensation, without which it would not have been. The 
 whole set of sensations as possible, form a permanent back- 
 ground to any one or more of them that are, at a given mo- 
 ment, actual; and the possibilities are conceived as standing 
 to the actual sensations in the relation of a cause to its effects, 
 or of canvas to the figures painted on it, or of a root to the 
 trunk, leaves, and flowers, or of a substratum to that which is 
 spread over it, or, in transcendental language, of Matter to 
 Form. 
 
 When this point has been reached, the Permanent Possibilities 
 in question have assumed such unlikeness of aspect, and such 
 difference of position relatively to us, from any sensations, 
 that it would be contrary to all we know of the constitution 
 of human nature that they should not be conceived as, and 
 believed to be, at least as different from sensations as 
 
696 MILL 
 
 sensations are from one another. Their groundwork in sensa- 
 tion is forgotten, and they are supposed to be something in- 
 trinsically distinct from it. We can withdraw ourselves from 
 any of our (external) sensations, or we can be withdrawn from 
 them by some other agency. But though the sensations cease, 
 the possibilities remain in existence; they are independent of 
 our will, our presence, and everything which belongs to us. We 
 find, too, that they belong as much to other human or sentient 
 beings as to ourselves. We find other people grounding their 
 expectations and conduct upon the same permanent possibilities 
 on which we ground ours. But we do not find "them experiencing 
 V the same actual sensations. Other people do not have our sen- 
 Rations exactly when and as we have them: but they have our 
 possibilities of sensation ; whatever indicates a present possibility 
 of sensations to ourselves, indicates a present possibility of 
 similar sensations to them, except so far as their organs of sen- 
 ( sation may vary from the type of ours. This puts the final seal 
 I to our conception of the groups of possibilities as the funda- 
 \ mental reality in Nature. The permanent possibilities are com- 
 mon to us and to our fellow-creatures ; the actual sensations are 
 not. That which other people become aware of when, and on 
 the same grounds as I do, seems more real to me than that which 
 they do not know of unless I tell them. The world of Possible 
 Sensations succeeding one another according to laws, is as much 
 in other beings as it is in me ; it has therefore an existence out- 
 side me; it is an External World. 
 
 If this explanation of the origin and growth of the idea of 
 Matter, or External Nature, contains nothing at variance with 
 natural laws, it is at least an admissible supposition, that the 
 element of Non-ego which Sir W. Hamilton regards as an 
 original datum of consciousness, and which we certainly do find 
 in our present consciousness, may not be one of its primitive 
 elements may not have existed at all in its first manifesta- 
 tions. But if this supposition be admissible, it ought, on Sir 
 W. Hamilton's principles, to be received as true. The first of 
 the laws laid down by him for the interpretation of Conscious- 
 ness, the law (as he terms it) of Parcimony, forbids to suppose 
 
SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON'S PHILOSOPHY 697 
 
 an original principle of our nature in order to account for 
 phenomena which admit of possible explanation from known 
 causes. If the supposed ingredient of consciousness be one which 
 might grow up (though we cannot prove that it did grow up) 
 through later experience; and if, when it had so grown up, it 
 would, by known laws of our nature, appear as completely in- 
 tuitive as our sensations themselves; we are bound, according 
 to Sir W. Hamilton's and all sound philosophy, to assign to it 
 that origin. Where there is a known cause adequate to account 
 for a phenomenon, there is no justification for ascribing it to an 
 unknown one. And what evidence does Consciousness furnish 
 of the intuitiveness of an impression, except instantaneousness, 
 apparent simplicity, and unconsciousness on our part of how 
 the impression came into our minds? These features can only 
 prove the impression to be intuitive, on the hypothesis that there 
 are no means of accounting for them otherwise. If they not only 
 might, but naturally would, exist, even on the supposition that it 
 is not intuitive, we must accept the conclusion to which we are 
 led by the Psychological Method, and which the Introspective 
 Method furnishes absolutely nothing to contradict. 
 
 Matter, then, may be defined, a Permanent Possibility of 
 Sensation. If I am asked whether I believe in matter, I ask 
 whether the questioner accepts this definition of it. If he does, 
 I believe in matter: and so do all Berkeleians. In any other 
 sense than this, I do not. But I affirm with confidence, that this 
 conception of Matter includes the whole meaning attached to it 
 by the common world, apart from philosophical, and sometimes 
 from theological, theories. The reliance of mankind on the real 
 existence of visible and tangible objects, means reliance on the 
 reality and permanence of Possibilities of visual and tactual 
 sensations, when no such sensations are actually experienced. 
 We are warranted in believing that this is the meaning of Matter 
 in the minds of many of its most esteemed metaphysical cham- 
 pions, though they themselves would not admit as much: for 
 example, of Reid, Stewart, and Brown. For these three philo- 
 sophers alleged that all mankind, including Berkeley and Hume, 
 really believed in Matter, inasmuch as unless they did, they 
 
698 MILL 
 
 would not have turned aside to save themselves from running 
 against a post. Now, all which this manoeuvre really proved is, 
 I that they believed in Permanent Possibilities of Sensation. We 
 have therefore the sanction of these three eminent defenders of 
 the existence of matter, for affirming, that to believe in Permanent 
 Possibilities of Sensation is believing in Matter. It is hardly 
 necessary, after such authorities, to mention Dr. Johnson, or 
 any one else who resorts to the argumentum baculinum of knock- 
 ing a stick against the ground. Sir W. Hamilton, a far subtler 
 thinker than any of these, never reasons in this manner. He 
 never supposes that a disbeliever in what he means by Matter, 
 ought in consistency to act in any different mode from those who 
 believe in it. He knew that the belief on which all the practical 
 consequences depend, is the belief in Permanent Possibilities 
 of Sensation, and that if nobody believed in a material universe 
 in any other sense, life would go on exactly as it now does. He, 
 however, did believe in more than this, but, I think, only because 
 it had never occurred to him that mere Possibilities of Sensa- 
 tion could, to our artificialized consciousness, present the char- 
 acter of objectivity which, as we have now shown, they not only 
 can, but unless the known laws of the human mind were sus- 
 pended, must necessarily, present. 
 
 Perhaps it may be objected, that the very possibility of fram- 
 ing such a notion of Matter as Sir W. Hamilton's the capacity 
 ^ in the human mind of imagining an external world which is 
 1 anything more than what the Psychological Theory makes it 
 amounts to a disproof of the theory. If (it may be said) we had 
 no revelation in consciousness, of a world which is not in some 
 way or other identified with sensation, we should be unable to 
 have the notion of such a world. If the only ideas we had of 
 external objects were ideas of our sensations, supplemented by 
 an acquired notion of permanent possibilities of sensation, we 
 must (it is thought) be incapable of conceiving, and therefore 
 still more incapable of fancying that we perceive, things which 
 are not sensations at all. It being evident, however, that some 
 philosophers believe this, and it being maintainable that the 
 mass of mankind do so, the existence of a perdurable basis of 
 
SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON'S PHILOSOPHY 699 
 
 sensations, distinct from sensations themselves, is proved, it 
 might be said, by the possibility of believing it. 
 
 Let me first restate what I apprehend the belief to be. We 
 believe that we perceive a something closely related to all our 
 sensations, but different from those which we are feeling at any 
 particular minute ; and distinguished from sensations altogether, 
 by being permanent and always the same, while these are fugi- 
 tive, variable, and alternately displace one another. But these 
 attributes of the object of perception are properties belonging 
 to all the possibilities of sensation which experience guarantees. 
 The belief in such permanent possibilities seems to me to include 
 all that is essential or characteristic in the belief in substance. 
 I believe that Calcutta exists, though I do not perceive it, and 
 that it would still exist if every percipient inhabitant were sud- 
 denly to leave the place, or be struck dead. But when I analyze 
 the belief, all I find in it is, that were these events to take place, 
 the Permanent Possibility of Sensation which I call Calcutta 
 would still remain; that if I were suddenly transported to the 
 banks of the Hoogly, I should still have the sensations which, 
 if now present, would lead me to affirm that Calcutta exists here 
 and now. We may infer, therefore, that both philosophers and 
 the world at large, when they think of matter, conceive it really 
 as a Permanent Possibility of Sensation. But the majority of 
 philosophers fancy that it is something more ; and the world at 
 large, though they have really, as I conceive, nothing in their 
 minds but a Permanent Possibility of Sensation, would, if asked 
 the question, undoubtedly agree with the philosophers : and though 
 this is sufficiently explained by the tendency of the human mind 
 to infer difference of things from difference of names, I acknow- 
 ledge the obligation of showing how it can be possible to believe 
 in an existence transcending all possibilities of sensation, unless 
 on the hypothesis that such an existence actually is, and that 
 we actually perceive it. 
 
 The explanation, however, is not difficult. It is an admitted 
 fact, that we are capable of all conceptions which can be formed 
 by generalizing from the observed laws of our sensations. What- 
 ever relation we find to exist between any one of our sensations 
 
700 MILL 
 
 and something different from it, that same relation we have no 
 difficulty in conceiving to exist between the sum of all our sensa- 
 tions and something different from them. The differences which 
 our consciousness recognizes between one sensation and another, 
 give us the general notion of difference, and inseparably asso- 
 ciate with every sensation we have, the feeling of its being differ- 
 ent from other things ; and when once this association has been 
 formed, we can no longer conceive anything, without being able, 
 and even being compelled, to form also the conception of some- 
 thing different from it. This familiarity with the idea of some- 
 thing different from each thing we know, makes it natural and 
 easy to form the notion of something different from all things 
 that we know, collectively as well as individually. It is true we 
 can form no conception of what such a thing can be ; our notion 
 of it is merely negative; but the idea of substance, apart from 
 the impressions it makes on our senses, is a merely negative one. 
 There is thus no psychological obstacle to our forming the notion 
 of a something which is neither a sensation nor a possibility of 
 sensation, even if our consciousness does not testify to it ; and 
 nothing is more likely than that the Permanent Possibilities of 
 Sensation, to which our consciousness does testify, should be 
 confounded in our minds with this imaginary conception. All 
 experience attests the strength of the tendency to mistake mental 
 abstractions, even negative ones, for substantive realities; and 
 the Permanent Possibilities of Sensation which experience guar- 
 antees, are so extremely unlike in many of their properties to 
 actual sensations, that since we are capable of imagining some- 
 thing which transcends sensation, there is a great natural prob- 
 ability that we should suppose these to be it. 
 
 But this natural probability is converted into certainty, when 
 we take into consideration that universal law of our experience 
 which is termed the law of Causation, and which makes us un- 
 able to conceive the beginning of anything without an antece- 
 dent condition, or Cause. The case of Causation is one of the 
 most marked of all the cases in which we extend to the sum 
 total of our consciousness, a notion derived from its parts. It is 
 a striking example of our power to conceive, and our tendency 
 
SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON'S PHILOSOPHY 
 
 to believe, that a relation which subsists between every indi- 
 vidual item of our experience and some other item, subsists also 
 between our experience as a whole, and something not within 
 the sphere of experience. By this extension to the sum of all 
 our experiences, of the internal relations obtaining between its 
 several parts, we are led to consider sensation itself aggre- 
 gate whole of our sensations as deriving its origin from antece- 
 dent existences transcending sensation. That we should do this, 
 is a consequence of the particular character of the uniform se- 
 quences, which experience discloses to us among our sensations. 
 As already remarked, the constant antecedent of a sensation is 
 seldom another sensation, or set of sensations, actually felt. It 
 is much oftener the existence of a group of possibilities, not 
 necessarily including any actual sensations, except such as are 
 required to show that the possibilities are really present. Nor are 
 actual sensations indispensable even for this purpose; for the 
 presence of the object (which is nothing more than the immedi- 
 ate presence of the possibilities) may be made known to us by 
 the very sensation which we refer to it as its effect. Thus, the 
 real antecedent of an effect the only antecedent which, being 
 invariable and unconditional, we consider to be the cause may 
 be, not any sensation really felt, but solely the presence, at that 
 or the immediately preceding moment, of a group of possibilities 
 of sensation. Hence it is not with sensations as actually experi- 
 enced, but with their Permanent Possibilities, that the idea of 
 Cause comes to be identified: and we, by one and the same 
 process, acquire the habit of regarding Sensation in general, like 
 all our individual sensations, as an Effect, and also that of con- 
 ceiving as the causes of most of our individual sensations, not 
 other sensations, but general possibilities of sensation. If all 
 these considerations put together do not completely explain and 
 account for our conceiving these Possibilities as a class of inde- 
 pendent and substantive entities, I know not what psychological 
 analysis can be conclusive. 
 
 It may perhaps be said, that the preceding theory gives, in- 
 deed, some account of the idea of Permanent Existence which 
 forms part of our conception of matter, but gives no explanation 
 
702 MILL 
 
 of our believing these permanent objects to be external, or out 
 of ourselves. I apprehend, on the contrary, that the very idea of 
 anything out of ourselves is derived solely from the know- 
 ledge experience gives us of the Permanent Possibilities. Our 
 sensations we carry with us wherever we go, and they never 
 exist where we are not; but when we change our place \ve do 
 not carry awaj with us the Permanent Possibilities of Sensation : 
 they remain until we return, or arise and cease under conditions 
 with which our presence has in general nothing to do. And more 
 than all they are, and will be after we have ceased to feel, 
 Permanent Possibilities of Sensation to other beings than our- 
 selves. Thus our actual sensations and the permanent possi- 
 bilities of sensation, stand out in obtrusive contrast to one 
 another : and when the idea of Cause has been acquired, and 
 extended by generalization from the parts of our experience to 
 its aggregate whole, nothing can be more natural than that the 
 Permanent Possibilities should be classed by us as existences 
 generically distinct from our sensations, but of which our sen- 
 sations are the effect. 
 
 The same theory which accounts for our ascribing to an aggre- 
 gate of possibilities of sensation, a permanent existence which 
 our sensations themselves do not possess, and consequently a 
 greater reality than belongs to our sensations, also explains our 
 attributing greater objectivity to the Primary Qualities of bodies 
 than to the Secondary. For the sensations which correspond to 
 what are called the Primary Qualities (as soon at least as we 
 come to apprehend them by two senses, the eye as well as the 
 touch) are always present when any part of the group is so. But 
 colors, tastes, smells, and the like, being, in comparison, fuga- 
 cious, are not, in the same degree, conceived as being always 
 there, even when nobody is present to perceive them. The sen- 
 sations answering.to the Secondary Qualities are only occasional, 
 those to the primary, constant. The Secondary, moreover, vary 
 with different persons, and with the temporary sensibility of 
 our organs : the Primary, when perceived at all, are, as far as we 
 know, the same to all persons and at all times. 
 
HERBERT SPENCER 
 
 (1820-1903) 
 
 FIRST PRINCIPLES OF A NEW SYSTEM OF 
 PHILOSOPHY* 
 
 PART I. THE UNKNOWABLE 
 
 31. SOME do indeed allege that though the Ultimate Cause 
 of things cannot really be conceived by us as having specified 
 attributes, it is yet incumbent upon us to assert those attributes. 
 Though the forms of our consciousness are such that the Abso- 
 lute cannot in any manner or degree be brought within them, 
 we are nevertheless told that we must represent the Absolute 
 to ourselves as having certain characters. As writes Mr. Mansel, 
 in the workf from which I have already quoted largely "It 
 is our duty, then, to think of God as personal ; and it is our duty 
 to believe that He is infinite." 
 
 Now if there be any meaning in the foregoing arguments, 
 duty requires us neither to affirm nor deny personality. Our 
 duty is to submit ourselves to the established limits of our intel- 
 ligence, and not perversely to rebel against them. Let those 
 who can, believe that there is eternal war set between our intel- 
 lectual faculties and our moral obligations. I, for one, admit 
 no such radical vice in the constitution of things. 
 
 This which to most will seem an essentially irreligious posi- 
 tion, is an essentially religious one nay is the religious one, to 
 which, as already shown, all others are but approximations. 
 In the estimate it implies of the Ultimate Cause, it does not fall 
 short 6f the alternative position, but exceeds it. Those who 
 espouse this alternative position, assume that the choice is 
 between personality and something lower than personality; 
 whereas the choice is rather between personality and some- 
 
 * First edition, London, Williams & Norgate, 1862. Reprinted here from 6th 
 American copyright edition, New York, D. Appleton & Co, 1903. 
 f H. L. Mansel, Limits of Religious Thought, London, 1858. 
 
7 o 4 SPENCER 
 
 thing that may be higher. Is it not possible that there is a mode 
 of being as much transcending Intelligence and Will, as these 
 transcend mechanical motion? Doubtless we are totally un- 
 able to imagine any such higher mode of being. But this is not 
 a reason for questioning its existence; it is rather the reverse. 
 Have we not seen how utterly unable our minds are to form 
 even an approach to a conception of that which underlies all 
 phenomena ? Is it not proved that we fail because of the incom- 
 petency of the Conditioned to grasp the Unconditioned ? ) Does 
 it not follow that the Ultimate Cause cannot in any respect be 
 conceived because it is in every respect greater than can be 
 conceived? And may we not therefore rightly refrain from 
 assigning to it any attributes whatever, on the ground that such 
 attributes, derived as they must be from our own natures, are 
 not elevations but degradations? llndeed it seems strange that 
 men should suppose the highest worship to lie in assimilating 
 the object of their worship to themselves. Not in asserting a 
 transcendent difference, but in asserting a certain likeness, 
 consists the element of their creed which they think essential. 
 It is true that from the time when the rudest savages imagined 
 the causes of things to be persons like themselves but invisible, 
 down to our own time, the degree of assumed likeness has been 
 diminishing. But though a bodily form and substance similar 
 to that of man, has long since ceased, among cultivated races, 
 to be a liter ally- conceived attribute of the Ultimate Cause 
 though the grosser human desires have been also rejected as unfit 
 elements of the conception though there is some hesitation in 
 ascribing even the higher human feelings, save in idealized 
 shapes; yet it is still thought not only proper, but imperative, 
 to ascribe the most abstract qualities of our nature. To think 
 of the Creative Power as in all respects anthropomorphous, is 
 now considered impious by men who yet hold themselves bound 
 to think of the Creative Power as in some respects anthropo- 
 morphous; and who do not see that the one proceeding is but 
 an evanescent form of the other. And then, most marvellous 
 of all, this course is persisted in even by those who contend 
 that we are wholly unable to frame any conception whatever 
 
FIRST PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 705 
 
 of the Creative Power. After it has been shown that every sup- 
 position respecting the genesis of the Universe commits us to 
 alternative impossibilities of thought after it has been shown 
 why, by the very constitution of our minds, we are debarred 
 from thinking of the Absolute ; it is still asserted that we ought 
 to think of the Absolute thus and thus. | In all ways we find 
 thrust on us the truth, that we are not permitted to know - 
 nay are not even permitted to conceive that Reality which 
 is behind the veil of Appearance; and yet it is said to be our 
 duty to believe (and in so far to conceive) that this Reality 
 exists in a certain defined manner. Shall we call this reverence ? 
 or shall we call it the reverse? \ 
 
 Volumes might be written upon the impiety of the pious. 
 Through the printed and spoken thoughts of religious teachers, 
 may everywhere be traced a professed familiarity with the 
 ultimate mystery of things, which, to say the least of it, is any- 
 thing but congruous with the accompanying expressions of 
 humility. The attitude thus assumed can be fitly represented 
 only by further developing a isimile long current in theological 
 controversies the simile of the watch. If for a moment we 
 made the grotesque supposition that the tickings and other 
 movements of a watch constituted a kind of consciousness; 
 and that a watch possessed of such a consciousness, insisted 
 on regarding the watchmaker's actions as determined like its 
 own by springs and escapements; we should simply complete 
 a parallel of which religious teachers think much. And were 
 we to suppose that a watch not only formulated the cause of its 
 existence in these mechanical terms, but held that watches 
 were bound out of reverence so to formulate this cause, and 
 even vituperated, as atheistic watches, any that did not venture 
 so to formulate it; we should merely illustrate the presumption 
 of theologians by carrying their own argument a step further. 
 A few extracts will bring home to the reader the justice of this 
 comparison. We are told, for example, by one of high repute 
 among religious thinkers, that the Universe is "the manifesta- 
 tion and abode of a Free Mind, like our own; embodying His 
 personal thought in its adjustments, realizing His own ideal 
 
;o6 SPENCER 
 
 in its phenomena, just as we express our inner faculty and 
 character through the natural language of an external life. In 
 this view, we interpret Nature by Humanity; we find the key 
 to her aspects in such purposes and affections as our own 
 consciousness enables us to conceive; we look everywhere for 
 physical signals of an ever-living Will ; and decipher the universe 
 as the autobiography of an Infinite Spirit, repeating itself in 
 miniature within our Finite Spirit." The same writer goes still 
 further. He not only thus parallels the assimilation of the watch- 
 maker to the watch, he not only thinks the created can "de- 
 cipher" "the autobiography" of the Creating; but he asserts 
 that the necessary limits to the one are necessary limits to the 
 other. The primary qualities of bodies, he says, "belong eter- 
 nally to the material datum objective to God" and control his 
 acts; while the secondary ones are "products of pure Inventive 
 Reason and Determining Will" constitute "the realm of 
 Divine originality." . . . "While on this Secondary field His 
 Mind and ours are thus contrasted, they meet in resem- 
 blance again upon the Primary ;]for the evolutions of deductive 
 Reason there is but one track possible to all intelligences J no 
 merum arbitrium can interchange the false and true, or make 
 more than one geometry, one scheme of pure physics, for all 
 worlds; and the Omnipotent Architect Himself, in realizing 
 the Kosfnical conception, in shaping the orbits out of immensity 
 and determining seasons out of eternity, could but follow the 
 laws of curvature, measure and proportion." | That is to say, 
 the Ultimate Cause is like a human mechanic, not only as 
 "shaping" the "material datum objective to" Him, but also as 
 being obliged to conform to the necessary properties of that 
 datum. | Nor is this all. There follows some account of "the 
 Divine -psychology," to the extent of saying that "we learn" 
 "the character of God the order of affections in Him" from 
 "the distribution of authority in the hierarchy of our impulses." 
 I In other words, it is alleged that the Ultimate Cause has desires 
 that are to be classed as higher and lower like our own. 1 ] Every 
 
 1 These extracts are from an article entitled "Nature and God," published 
 in the National Review for October, 1860, by Dr. Martineau. 
 
FIRST PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 707 
 
 one has heard of the king who wished he had been present at 
 the creation of the world, that he might have given good advice. 
 He was humble, however, compared with those who profess to 
 understand not only the relation of the Creating to the created, 
 but also how the Creating is constituted, l And yet this transcend- 
 ent audacity, which thinks to penetrate the secrets of the 
 Power manifested through all existence nay, even to stand 
 behind that Power and note the conditions to its action this 
 it is which passes current as piety! |May we not affirm that a 
 sincere recognition of the truth that our own and all other 
 existence is a mystery absolutely beyond our comprehension, 
 contains more of true religion than all the dogmatic theology 
 ever written ? \ 
 
 Meanwhile let us recognize whatever of permanent good 
 there is in these persistent attempts to frame conceptions of 
 that which cannot be conceived. From the beginning it has been 
 only through the successive failures of such conceptions to 
 satisfy the mind, that higher and higher ones have been grad- 
 ually reached; and doubtless, the conceptions now current are 
 indispensable as transitional modes of thought. Even more 
 than this may be willingly conceded. It is possible, nay prob- 
 able, that under their most abstract forms, ideas of this order 
 will always continue to occupy the background of our con- 
 sciousness. Very likely there will ever remain a need to give, 
 shape to that indefinite sense of an Ultimate Existence, which 
 forms the basis of our intelligence. We shall always be under 
 the necessity of contemplating it as some mode oi being ; that is, 
 of representing it to ourselves in some form of thought, how- 
 ever vague. And we shall not err in doing this so long as we 
 treat every notion we thus frame as merely a^symboj. Perhaps 
 the constant formation of such symbols and constant rejection 
 of them as inadequate, may be hereafter, as it has hitherto been, 
 a means of discipline./ Perpetually to construct ideas requiring 
 the utmost stretch of our faculties, and perpetually to find that 
 such ideas must be abandoned as futile imaginations, may 
 realize to us more fully than any other course, the greatness of 
 that which we vainly strive to grasp. | By continually seeking 
 
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 to know and being continually thrown back with a deepened 
 conviction of the impossibility of knowing, we may keep alive 
 the consciousness that it is alike our highest wisdom and our 
 highest duty to regard that through which all things exist as 
 The Unknowable. 
 
 PART II. THE KNOWABLE 
 CHAPTER I. PHILOSOPHY DEFINED 
 
 35. After concluding that we cannot know the ultimate 
 nature of that which is manifested to us, there arise the ques- 
 tions What is it that we know ? In what sense do we know it ? 
 And in what consists our highest knowledge of it? Having 
 repudiated as impossible the Philosophy which professes to 
 formulate Being as distinguished from Appearance, it becomes 
 needful to say that Philosophy truly is not simply to specify 
 its limits, but to specify its character within those limits/ Given 
 the sphere to which human intelligence is restricted, and there 
 remains to define that product of human intelligence which 
 may still be called Philosophy. 
 
 Here, we may fitly avail ourselves of the method followed 
 at the outset that of separating from conceptions which are 
 partially or mainly erroneous, the element of truth they con- 
 tain. As in the chapter on "Religion and Science," it was in- 
 ferred that religious beliefs, wrong as they may severally be, 
 nevertheless probably each contain an essential verity, and 
 that this is most likely common to them all; so in this place 
 it is to be inferred that past and present beliefs respecting the 
 nature of Philosophy,* are none of them wholly false, and that 
 that in which they are true is that in which they agree. \ We have 
 here, then, to do what was done there to compare all opinions 
 of the same genus ; to set aside as more or less discrediting one 
 another those elements in which such opinions differ ; to observe 
 what remains after the discordant components have been can- 
 celled ; and to find for this remaining component that expression 
 which holds true throughout its divergent forms. S 
 
FIRST PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 709 
 
 36. Earlier speculations being passed over, we see that 
 among the Greeks, before there had arisen any notion of Phi- 
 losophy in general, I those particular forms of it from which the 
 general notion was to arise, were hypotheses respecting some 
 universal principle which was the essence of all kinds of being, j 
 To the question "What is that invariable existence of which 
 these are variable states? 11 there were sundry answers Water, 
 Air, Fire. A class of suppositions of this all-embracing character 
 having been propounded, it became possible for Pythagoras to 
 conceive of Philosophy in the abstract, as knowledge the most 
 remote from practical ends; and to define it as " knowledge of 
 immaterial and eternal things:" "the cause of the. material 
 existence of things" being, in his view, Number. Thereafter, 
 was continued a pursuit of Philosophy as some deepest expla- 
 nation of the Universe, assumed to be possible, whether actually 
 reached in any case or not. And in the course of this pursuit, 
 various such interpretations were given as that " One is the 
 beginning of all things;" that "the One is God;" that "the One 
 is Finite;" that "the One is Infinite;" that "Intelligence is the 
 governing principle of things;" and so on. | From all which it 
 is plain that the knowledge supposed to constitute Philosophy,' 
 differed from other knowledge in its exhaustive charact^rj 
 After the Sceptics had shaken men's faith in their powers of 
 reaching such transcendent knowledge, there grew up a much-, 
 restricted conception of Philosophy. Under Socrates, and still 
 more under the Stoics, Philosophy became little else than the 
 doctrine of right living. Not indeed that the proper ruling of 
 conduct, as conceived by sundry of the later Greek thinkers to 
 constitute the subject-matter of Philosophy, answered to what 
 was popularly understood by the proper ruling of conduct. The 
 injunctions of Zeno were not of the same class as those which 
 guided men in their daily observances, sacrifices, customs, all 
 having more or less of religious sanction ; but they were principles 
 of action enunciated without reference to times, or persons, or 
 special cases. What, then, was the constant element in these 
 unlike ideas of Philosophy held by the ancients? (dearly this 
 last idea agrees with the first, in implying that Philosophy seeks 
 
;io SPENCER 
 
 for wide and deep truths, as distinguished from the multitudi- 
 nous detailed truths which the surfaces of things and actions 
 present.! 
 
 By comparing the conceptions of Philosophy that have been 
 current in modern times, we get a like result. The disciples 
 of Schelling and Fichte join the Hegelian in ridiculing the so- 
 called Philosophy which has been current in England. Not 
 without reason, they laugh on reading of "Philosophical instru- 
 ments;" and would deny that any one of the papers in the 
 Philosophical Transactions has the least claim to come under 
 such a title. Retaliating on their critics, the English may, and 
 most of them do, reject as absurd the imagined Philosophy of 
 the German schools. They hold that whether consciousness does 
 or does not vouch for the existence of something beyond itself, 
 it at any rate cannot comprehend that something ; and that hence, 
 in so far as any Philosophy professes to be an Ontology, it is 
 false. These two views cancel one another over large parts of 
 their areas. The English criticism on the Germans, cuts off from 
 Philosophy all that is regarded as absolute knowledge. *The 
 German criticism on the English tacitly implies that if Philo- 
 sophy is limited to the relative, it is at any rate not concerned 
 with those aspects of the relative which are embodied in mathe- 
 matical formulae, in accounts of physical researches, in chemical 
 analyses, or in descriptions of species and reports of physio- 
 logical experiments. Now what has the too-wide German con- 
 ception in common with the conception current among English 
 men of science ; which, narrow and crude as it is, is not so nar- 
 row and crude as their misuse of the word philosophical indicates ?- 
 I The two have this in common, that neither Germans nor English 
 apply the word to unsystematized knowledge to knowledge 
 quite un-coordinated with other knowledge.! Even the most 
 limited specialist would not describe as philosophical, an essay 
 which, dealing wholly with details, manifested no perception of 
 the bearings of those details on wider truths. 
 
 The vague idea of Philosophy thus raised may be rendered 
 more definite by comparing what has been known in England 
 as Natural Philosophy with that development of it called Posi- 
 
FIRST PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 711 
 
 tive Philosophy. Though, as M. Comte admits, the two consist 
 of knowledge essentially the same in kind; yet, by having put 
 this kind of knowledge into a more coherent form, he has given 
 it more of that character to which the term philosophical is 
 applied. Without saying anything about the character of his 
 co-ordination, it must be conceded that, by the fact of its co- 
 ordination, the body of knowledge organized by him has a better 
 claim to the title Philosophy, than has the comparatively un- 
 organized body of knowledge named Natural Philosophy. 
 
 If subdivisions of Philosophy be contrasted with one another, 
 or with the whole, the same implication comes out. Moral 
 Philosophy and Political Philosophy, agree with Philosophy at 
 large in the comprehensiveness of their reasonings and conclu- 
 sions. Though under the head Moral Philosophy, we treat of 
 human actions as right or wrong, we do not include special 
 directions for behaviour in school, at table, or on the exchange ; 
 and though Political Philosophy has for its topic the conduct of 
 men in their public relations, it does not concern itself with 
 modes of voting or details of administration. Both of these 
 sections of Philosophy contemplate particular instances only as 
 illustrating truths of wide application. 
 
 37. Thus every one of these conceptions implies belief 
 in a possible way of knowing things more completely than they 
 are known through simple experiences, mechanically accumu- 
 lated in memory or heaped up in cyclopaedias. Though in the 
 extent of the sphere which they have supposed Philosophy to 
 fill, men have differed and still differ very widely ; yet there is a 
 real if unavowed agreement among them in signifying by this 
 title a knowledge which transcends ordinary knowledge. That 
 which remains as the common element in these conceptions of 
 Philosophy, after the elimination of their discordant elements, 
 is knowledge of the highest' degree of generality. We see this . 
 tacitly asserted by the simultaneous inclusion of God, Nature,- 
 and Man, within its scope ; or still more distinctly by the division 
 of Philosophy as a whole into Theological, Physical, Ethical, 
 &c. For that which characterizes the genus of which these are 
 
;i2 SPENCER 
 
 species, must be something more general than that which dis- 
 tinguishes any one species. 
 
 What must be the shape here given to this conception? 
 Though persistently conscious of a Power manifested to us, we 
 have abandoned as futile the attempt to learn anything respect- 
 ing that Power, and so have shut out Philosophy from much of 
 the domain supposed to belong to it. | The domain left is that 
 occupied by Science j Science concerns itself with the co-exist- 
 ences and sequences among phenomena ; grouping these at first 
 into generalizations of a simple or low order, and rising gradually 
 to higher and more extended generalizations. But if so, where 
 remains any subject-matter for Philosophy? 
 
 The reply is Philosophy may still properly be the title 
 retained for knowledge of the highest ^generality. 'Science 
 means merely the family of the Sciences stands for nothing 
 more than the sum of knowledge formed of their contributions ; 
 and ignores the knowledge constituted by the fusion of these 
 contributions into a whole. As usage has denned it, Science 
 consists of truths existing more or less separated and does not 
 recognize these truths as entirely integrated. An illustration 
 will make the difference clear. 
 
 If we ascribe the flow of a river to the same force which causes 
 the fall of a stone, we make a statement that belongs to a cer- 
 tain division of Science. If, to explain how gravitation produces 
 this movement in a direction almost horizontal, we cite the law 
 that fluids subject to mechanical forces exert re-active forces 
 which are equal in all directions, we formulate a wider truth, 
 containing the scientific interpretations of many other phe- 
 nomena; as those presented by the fountain, the hydraulic 
 press, the steam-engine, the air-pump. And when this propo- 
 sition, extending only to the dynamics of fluids, is merged in a 
 proposition of general dynamics, comprehending the laws of 
 movement of solids as well as of fluids, there is reached a yet 
 higher truth ; but still a truth that comes wholly within the realm 
 of Science. Again, looking around at Birds and Mammals, 
 suppose we say that air-breathing animals are hot-blooded ; and 
 that then, remembering how Reptiles, which also breathe air, 
 
FIRST PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 713 
 
 are not much warmer than their media, we say, more truly, that 
 animals (bulks being equal) have temperatures proportionate 
 to the quantities of air they breathe; and that then, calling to 
 mind certain large fish, as the tunny, which maintain a heat 
 considerably above that of the water they swim in, we further 
 correct the generalization by saying that the temperature varies 
 as the rate of oxygenation of the blood ; and that then, modify- 
 ing the statement to meet other criticisms, we finally assert the 
 relation to be between the amount of heat and the amount of 
 molecular change supposing we do all this, we state scientific 
 truths that are successively wider and more complete, but truths 
 which, to the last, remain purely scientific. Once more if, 
 guided by mercantile experiences, we reach the conclusions that 
 prices rise when the demand exceeds the supply ; that commod- 
 ities flow from places where they are abundant to places where 
 they are scarce; that the industries of different localities are 
 determined in their kinds mainly by the facilities which the 
 localities afford for them; and if, studying these generalizations 
 of political economy, we trace them all to the truth that each 
 man seeks satisfaction for his desires in ways costing the smallest 
 efforts such social phenomena being resultants of individual 
 actions so guided; we are still dealing with the propositions of 
 Science only. 
 
 How, then, is Philosophy constituted? It is constituted by 
 carrying a stage further the process indicated. |So long as these 
 truths are known only apart and regarded as independent, even 
 the most general of them cannot without laxity of speech be 
 called philosophical. f But when, having been severally reduced 
 to a mechanical axiom, a principle of molecular physics, and a 
 law of social action, they are contemplated together as corolla- 
 ries of some ultimate truth, then we rise to the kind of knowledge 
 which constitutes Philosophy proper. 
 
 The truths of Philosophy thus bear the same relation to the 
 highest scientific truths, that each of these bears to lower scien- 
 tific truths. As each widest generalization of Science compre- 
 hends and consolidates the narrower generalizations of its own 
 division; so the generalizations of Philosophy comprehend and 
 
7H SPENCER 
 
 consolidate the widest generalizations of^Science.\It is therefore 
 a knowledge the extreme opposite in kind to that which experi- 
 ence first accumulates. It is the final product ol that process 
 which begins with a mere colligation of crude observations, 
 goes on establishing propositions that are broader and more 
 separated from particular cases, and ends in universal propo- 
 sitions. \ Or to bring the definition to its simplest and clearest 
 form : Knowledge of the lowest kind is un-unified knowledge ; 
 Science is partially-unified knowledge ; Philosophy is completely- 
 unified knowledge. 
 
 CHAPTERS XIV-XVII. THE LAW OF EVOLUTION 
 
 [Ch. XIV.] 107. Deduction has now to be verified by in- 
 duction. Thus far the argument has been that all sensible exist- 
 ences must f in some way or other and at some time or other, 
 reach their concrete shapes through processes of concentration ; 
 and the facts named have been named merely to clarify the 
 perception of this necessity. But we have not arrived at that 
 unified knowledge constituting Philosophy, until we have seen 
 howjexistences of all orders do exhibit a progressive integration 
 of Matter and accompanying loss of Motion.(\Tracing, so far 
 as we may by observation and inference, the objects dealt with 
 by the Astronomer and the Geologist, as well as those which 
 Biology, Psychology, and Sociology treat of, we have to consider 
 what direct proof there is that the Cosmos, in general and in 
 detail, conforms to this law. 
 
 Throughout the classes of facts successively contemplated, 
 attention will be directed not so much to the truth that/ every 
 aggregate has undergone, or is undergoing, integration, as to 
 the further truth that in every more or less separate part of 
 every aggregate, integration has been, or is, in progress.) In- 
 stead of simple wholes and wholes of which the complexity has 
 been ignored, we have now to deal with wholes as they actually 
 exist mostly made up of many members combined in many 
 ways. And in them we shall have to trace the transformation 
 under several forms a passage of the total mass from a more 
 
FIRST PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 715 
 
 diffused to a more consolidated state; a concurrent similar 
 passage in every portion of it that comes to have a distinguish- 
 able individuality; and a simultaneous increase of combination 
 among such individualized portions. 
 
 in . . . Though evolutions of the various products of 
 social activities cannot be said directly to exemplify the integra- 
 tion of matter and dissipation of motion, yet they exemplify 
 it indirectly. /For the progress of Language, of Science, and 
 of the Arts, industrial and aesthetic, is an objective register of 
 subjective changes. | Alterations of structure in human beings, 
 and concomitant alterations of structure in aggregates of human 
 beings, jointly produce corresponding alterations of structure 
 in all those things which humanity creates. As in the changed 
 impress on the wax, we read a change in the seal; so in the 
 integrations of advancing Language, Science, and Art, we see 
 reflected certain integrations of advancing human structure, 
 individual and social. A section must be devoted to each group. * 
 
 112. Among uncivilized races, the many- syllabled names 
 of not uncommon objects, as well as the descriptive character 
 of proper names, show that the words used for the less-familiar 
 things are formed by uniting the words used for the more- 
 familiar things. This process of composition is sometimes 
 found in its incipient stage a stage in which the component 
 words are temporarily joined to signify some un-named object, 
 and, from lack of frequent use, do not permanently cohere. 
 But in most inferior languages, the process of "agglutination" 
 has gone far enough to produce some stability in the compound 
 words : there is a manifest integatipn. How small is this in- 
 tegration, however, in comparison with that reached in well- 
 developed languages, is shown both by the great length of the 
 compound words used for common things and acts, and by 
 the separableness of their elements. Certain North-American 
 tongues illustrate this very well. In a Ricaree vocabulary ex- 
 tending to fifty names of common objects, which in English are 
 nearly all expressed by single syllables, there is not one mono- 
 syllabic word. Things so familiar to these hunting tribes as 
 
716 SPENCER 
 
 dog and bow, are, in the Pawnee language, ashakish and teera- 
 gish; the hand and the ;yes are respectively iksheeree and &ee- 
 reekoo; for da;y the term is shakoorooeeshairet, and for de-z^/ it 
 is tsaheekshkakooraiwah; while the numerals are composed of 
 from two syllables up to five, and in Ricaree up to seven. ^That 
 the great length of these familiar words implies low develop- 
 ment, and that in the formation of higher languages out of 
 lower there is a gradual integration, which reduces the poly- 
 syllables to dissyllables and monosyllables, is an inference 
 confirmed by the history of our own language^ Anglo-Saxon 
 steorra has been in course of time consolidated into English 
 star, mona into moon, and nama into name. The transition 
 through semi-Saxon is clearly traceable. Sunu became in 
 semi-Saxon sune, and in English son: the final e of sune being 
 an evanescent form of the original u. The change from the 
 Anglo-Saxon plural, formed by the distinct syllable as, to our 
 plural, formed by the appended consonant s, shows the same 
 thing : smithas in becoming smiths, and endas in becoming ends, 
 illustrate progressive coalescence. So, too, does the disappear- 
 ance of the terminal an in the infinitive mood of verbs ; as shown 
 in the transition from the Anglo-Saxon cuman to the semi-Saxon 
 cumme, and to the English come. Moreover the process has been 
 slowly going on, even since what we distinguish as English was 
 formed. In Elizabeth's time, verbs were still frequently plural- 
 ized by the addition of en we tell was we tellen; and in some 
 places this form of speech may even now be heard. In like man- 
 ner the terminal ed of the past tense, has united with the word 
 it modifies. Burn-ed has in pronunciation become burnt; and 
 even in writing the terminal / has in some cases taken the place 
 of the ed. Only where antique forms in general are adhered to, 
 as in the church-service, is the distinctness of this inflection still 
 maintained. Further, we see that the compound vowels have 
 been in many cases fused into single vowels. That in bread the 
 e and a were originally both sounded, is proved by the fact that 
 they are still so sounded in parts where old habits linger. We, 
 however, have contracted the pronunciation into bred ; and we 
 have made like changes in many other common words. Lastly, 
 
FIRST PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 717 
 
 let it be noted that where the repetitionjs_greatest, the process 
 is carried furthest ; as instance the contraction of lord (originally 
 hlaford) into lud in the mouths of barristers ; and, still better, the 
 coalescence of God be with you into Good bye. 
 
 1 1 3. /The history of Science presents facts of the same 
 meaning at every step, f Indeed the integration of groups of like 
 entities and like relations, constitutes the most conspicuous part 
 of scientific progress. A glance at the classificatory sciences 
 shows that the confused incoherent aggregations which the vul- 
 gar make of natural objects, are gradually rendered complete 
 and compact, and bound up into groups within groups. While, 
 instead of considering all marine creatures as fish, shell-fish, and 
 jelly-fish, Zoology establishes among them sub-divisions under 
 the heads Vertebrata, Annulosa, Mollusca, Ccelenterata, &c. ; and 
 while, in place of the wide and vague assemblage popularly 
 described as "creeping things," it makes the specific classes 
 Annelida, Myriapoda, Insecta, Arachnida ; it simultaneously 
 gives to these an increasing consolidation. \The several species^ 
 genera and orders of which each consists, are arranged according 
 to their affinities and tied together under common definitions;! 
 at the same time that, by extended observation and rigorous 
 criticism, the previously unknown and undetermined forms are 
 integrated with their respective congeners.! Nor is the process \ 
 less clearly displayed in those sciences which have for their sub- ' 
 ject-matter, not classified objects but classified relationsj Under 
 one_of_ its chief aspects, scientific advance is the advance of gen- 
 eralization ; [and generalization is uniting into groups all like 
 co-existences and sequences among phenomena. / The colliga- 
 tion of many concrete relations into a generalization of the lowest 
 order, exemplifies this process in its simplest form;fand it is 
 again exemplified in a more complex form by the colligation of 
 these lowest generalizations into higher ones, and these into still 
 higher ones. \ Year by year connexions are established among 
 orders of phenomena that appear unallied ; and these connexions, 
 multiplying and strengthening, gradually bring the seemingly 
 unallied orders under a common bond. When, for example, 
 
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 Humboldt quotes the observation of the Swiss "It is going to 
 rain because we hear the murmur of the torrents nearer," 
 when he recognizes the kinship between this and an observation 
 of his own, that the cataracts of the Orinoco are heard at a greater 
 distance by night than by day when he notes the analogy 
 between these facts and the fact that the unusual visibility of 
 remote objects is also an indication of coming rain and when 
 he points out that the common cause of these variations is the 
 smaller hindrance offered to the passage of both light and sound, 
 by media which are comparatively homogeneous, either in tem- 
 perature or hygrometric state; he helps in bringing under one 
 generalization certain traits of lights and certain traits of sound. 
 I Experiments having shown that light and sound conform to like 
 laws of reflection and refraction, the conclusion that they are 
 both produced by undulations though undulations of unlike 
 kinds gains probability: there is an incipient integration of 
 two classes of facts between which no connexion was suspected 
 in times past. \ A still more decided integration has been of late 
 taking place between the once independent sub-sciences of Elec- 
 tricity, Magnetism, and Light. 
 
 The process will manifestly be carried much further. Such 
 propositions as those set forth in preceding chapters, on "The 
 Persistence of Force," " The Transformation and Equivalence 
 of Forces," "The Direction of Motion," and "The Rhythm of 
 Motion," unite within single bonds phenomena belonging to all 
 orders of existences. And if there is such a thing as that which 
 we here understand by Philosophy, there must eventually be 
 reached a universal integration. 
 
 ii4.\Nor do the industrial and aesthetic Arts fail to supply 
 us with equally conclusive evidence. /The progress from small 
 and simple tools, to complex and large machines, is a progress 
 mjritegration. Among what are classed as the mechanical 
 powers, the advance from the lever to the wheel-and-axle is an 
 advance from a simple agent to an agent made up of several 
 simple ones. On comparing the wheel-and-axle, or any of the 
 mechanical appliances used in early times with those used now, 
 
FIRST PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 719 
 
 we see that in each of our machines several of the primitive 
 machines are united. A modern apparatus for spinning or weav- 
 ing, for making stockings or lace, contains not simply a lever, an 
 inclined plane, a screw, a wheel-and-axle, joined together, but 
 several of each all made into a whole. (Again, in early ages, 
 when horse-power and man-power were alone employed, the 
 motive agent was not bound up with the tool moved ; but the two 
 have now become in many cases joined together.) The firebox 
 and boiler of a locomotive are combined with the machinery 
 which the steam works.l A much more extensive integration is 
 seen in every factory! J3ere numerous complicated machines are 
 all connected by driving shafts with the same steam-engine 
 all united with it into one vast apparatuD 
 
 Contrast the mural decorations of the Egyptians and Assyr- 
 ians with modern historical paintings, and there is manifest an 
 advance in unity of composition in the subordination of the 
 parts to the whole. /One of these ancient frescoes is made up of 
 figures which vary but little in conspicuousness : there are no 
 gradations of light and shade.) The same trait may be noted in 
 the tapestries of medieval days. Representing perhaps a hunting 
 scene, one of these contains men, horses, dogs, beasts, birds, trees, 
 and flowers, miscellaneously dispersed : the living objects being 
 variously occupied, and mostly with no apparent consciousness 
 of one another's proximity. But in paintings since produced, 
 faulty as many of them are in this respect, therejs_ always some 
 co-ordination an arrangement of attitudes, expressions, lights, 
 and colours, such as to combine the parts into a single scene; 
 and the success with which unity of effect is educed from variety 
 of components, is a chief test of merit. 
 
 In music, progressive integration is displayed in more numer- 
 ous ways. The simple cadence embracing but a few notes, which 
 in the chants of savages is monotonously repeated, becomes, 
 among civilized races, a long series of different musical phrases 
 combined into one whole ; and so complete is the integration that 
 the melody cannot be broken off in the middle, nor shorn of its 
 final note, without giving us a painful sense of incompleteness. 
 When to the air, a bass, a tenor, and an alto are added; and 
 
720 SPENCER 
 
 when to the different voice-parts there is joined an accompani- 
 ment ; we see integrations of another order which grow gradually 
 more elaborate. And the process is carried a stage higher when 
 these complex solos, concerted pieces, choruses, and orchestral 
 effects, are combined into the vast ensemble of an oratorio or a 
 musical drama. 
 
 Once more the Arts of literary delineation, narrative and 
 dramatic, furnish us with illustrations. The tales of primitive 
 times, like those with which the story-tellers of the East still 
 amuse their listeners, are made up of successive occurrences, 
 mostly unnatural, that have nojiatuial connexions: they are 
 but so many separate adventures put together without necessary 
 sequence. But in a good modern work of imagination, the events 
 are the proper products of the characters living under given 
 conditions; and cannot at will be changed in their order or 
 kind, without injuring or destroying the genra]_flect. Further, 
 the characters themselves, which in early fictions play their 
 respective parts without showing how their minds are modified 
 by one another or by the events, are now presented to us as held 
 together by complex moral relations, and as acting and re-acting 
 on one another's natures. 
 
 1 1 5. /Evolution, then, under its primary aspect, is a change 
 from a less coherent form to a more coherent form, consequent 
 on the dissipation of motion and integration of matter.) This is 
 the universal process through which sensible existences, indi- 
 vidually and as a whole, pass during the ascending halves of 
 their histories. This proves to be a character displayed in those 
 earliest changes which the visible Universe is supposed to have 
 undergone, and in those latest changes which we trace in societies 
 and the products of social life. (And, throughout, the unification 
 proceeds in several ways simultaneously.; 
 
 [Ch. XV.] 1 1 6. Changes great in their amounts and various 
 in their kinds, which accompany those dealt with in the last 
 chapter, have thus far been ignored ; or, if tacitly recognized, have 
 not been avowedly recognized. (Integration of each whole has 
 
FIRST PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 721 
 
 been described as taking place simultaneously with integration 
 of each of the parts into which it divides itself. |But how comes 
 the whole to divide itself into parts? /This is a transformation 
 more remarkable than the passage of the whole from an incoher- 
 ent to a coherent state ; and a formula which says nothing about 
 it omits more than half the phenomena to be formulated. ^ 
 
 This larger half of the phenomena we have now to treat. Here 
 we are concerned with those secondary re-distributions of matter ^ 
 and motion which go on along with the primary re-distribution. 
 We saw that while in very incoherent aggregates, secondary 
 re-distributions produce but evanescent results, in aggregates 
 that reach and maintain a certain medium state, neither very 
 incoherent nor very coherent, results of a relatively persistent 
 kind are produced structural modifications. And our next 
 inquiry must be What is the universal expression for these 
 structural modifications? 
 
 Already an implied answer has been given by the title - 
 Compound Evolution. Already in distinguishing as simple 
 Evolution, that integration of matter and dissipation of motion 
 which is unaccompanied by secondary re-distributions, it has 
 been tacitly asserted that where secondary re-distributions occur 
 complexity arises : the mass, instead of remaining uniform, must 
 have become multiform. The proposition is an identical one. 
 To say that along with the primary re-distribution there go sec- 
 ondary re-distributions, is to say that along with the change from a 
 diffused to a concentrated state, there goes a change from a homo- 
 geneous state to a heterogeneous state. The components of the 
 
 mass while becoming integrated have also become differentiated. 
 
 
 
 1 2 1. 1 Advance from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous 
 is clearly displayed in the progress of the latest and most hetero- 
 geneous creature Man. / While the peopling of the Earth has 
 been going on, the human organism has grown more hetero- 
 geneous among the civilized divisions of the species; and the 
 species, as a whole, has been made more heterogeneous by the 
 multiplication of races and the differentiation of them from one 
 another. In proof of the first of these statements may be cited 
 
722 SPENCER 
 
 the fact that, in the relative development of the limbs, civilized 
 men depart more widely from the general type of the placental 
 mammalia, than do the lowest men. Though often possessing 
 well-developed body and arms, the Papuan has very small legs ; 
 thus reminding us of the man-like apes, in which there is no 
 great contrast in size between the hind and fore limbs. But in the 
 European, the greater length and massiveness of the legs has 
 become marked the fore and hind limbs are relatively more 
 heterogeneous. The greater ratio which the cranial bones bear 
 to the facial bones, illustrates the same truth. Among the Ver- 
 tebrata in general, evolution is marked by an increasing hetero- 
 geneity in the vertebral column, and especially in the components 
 of the skull : the higher forms being distinguished by the relatively 
 larger size of the bones which cover the brain, and the relatively 
 smaller size of those which form the jaws, &c. Now this trait, 
 which is stronger in Man than in any other creature, is stronger 
 in the European than in the savage. (Moreover, from the greater 
 extent and variety of faculty he exhibits, we may infer that the 
 civilized man has also a more complex or heterogeneous nervous 
 system than the uncivilized man;) and, indeed, the fact is in part 
 visible in the increased ratio which his cerebrum bears to the 
 
 subjacent ganglia. . . . 
 
 i 
 
 126. Many further illustrations of the general law through- 
 out social products might be detailed. Going back to the time 
 when the deeds of the god-king, chanted and mimetically re- 
 presented in dances before his altar, were further narrated in 
 picture-writings on the walls of temples and palaces, and so 
 constituted a rude history, we might trace the development of 
 Literature through phases in which, as in the Hebrew Scriptures, 
 it presents in one work, theology, cosmogony, history, biography, 
 civil law, ethics, poetry ; through other phases in which, as in the 
 Iliad, the religious, martial, historical, the epic, dramatic, and 
 lyric elements are similarly commingled; down to its present 
 heterogeneous development, in which its divisions and sub- 
 divisions are so numerous and varied as to defy complete classi- 
 fication. Or we might track the unfolding of Science ; beginning 
 
FIRST PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 723 
 
 with the era in which it was not yet differentiated from Art, and 
 was, in union with Art, the handmaid of Religion; passing 
 through the era in which the sciences were so few and rudimen- 
 tary, as to be simultaneously cultivated by the same philosophers ; 
 and ending with the era in which the genera and species are so 
 multitudinous that few can enumerate them, and no one can 
 adequately grasp even one genus. Or we might do the like with 
 Architecture, with the Drama, with Dress. But doubtless the 
 reader is already weary of illustrations, and my promise has 
 been amply fulfilled. VThe advance from the simple to the com- 
 plex, through successive modifications upon modifications, is 
 seen alike in the earliest changes of the Heavens to which we can 
 reason our way back, and in the earliest changes we can induc- 
 tively establish j it is seen in the geologic and climatic evolution 
 of the Earth, of every individual organism on its surface and in 
 the aggregate of organisms ; it is seen in the evolution of Human- 
 ity, whether contemplated in the civilized man, or in the assem- 
 blage of races ; it is seen in the evolution of Society, in respect 
 alike of its political, its religious, and its economical organization ; 
 and it is seen in the evolution of those countless concrete and 
 abstract products of human activity, which constitute the environ- 
 ment of our daily life. ItFrom the remotest past which Science 
 can fathom, up to the novelties of yesterday, an essential trait 
 of Evolution has been the transformation of the homogeneous 
 into the heterogeneous. | 
 
 127. So that the general formula arrived at in the last 
 chapter needs supplementing. It is true that Evolution, under 
 its primary aspect,/ is a change from a less coherent state to a 
 more coherent state, | consequent on the dissipation of motion 
 and integration of matter) but this is far from being the whole 
 truth. Along with a passage from the incoherent to the coherent,' 
 there goes on a passage from the uniform to the multiform. Such, 
 at least, is the fact wherever Evolution is compound ; which it is 
 in the immense majority of cases. While there is a progressing 
 concentration of the aggregate, caused either by the closer ap- 
 proach of the matter within its limits, or by the drawing in of 
 
724 SPENCER 
 
 further matter, or by both ;\ and while the more or less distinct 
 parts into which the aggregate divides and sub-divides are also 
 severally concentrating ; these parts are simultaneously becoming 
 unlike unlike in size, or in form, or in texture, or in compo- 
 sition, or in several or all of these. \The same process is exhibited 
 by the whole and by its members. The entire mass is integrating, 
 and at the same time differentiating from other masses; while 
 each member of it is also integrating and at the same time 
 differentiating from other members. 
 
 Our conception, then, must unite these characters. As we 
 now understand it, Evolution is definable as a change from an 
 incoherent homogeneity to a coherent heterogeneity, accom- 
 panying the dissipation of motion and integration of matter. 
 
 [Ch. XVI.] 129. (At the same time that Evolution is a change 
 from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous, it is a change from 
 the indefinite to the definite. 1 Along with an advance from 
 simplicity to complexity, there is an advance from confusion 
 to order from undetermined arrangement to determined ar- 
 rangement. \Development, no matter of what kind, exhibits 
 not only a multiplication of unlike parts, but an increase in the 
 clearness with which these parts are marked off from one another. 
 And this is the distinction sought. . . . 
 
 /If advance from the indefinite to the definite is an essential 
 characteristic of Evolution, we shall of course find it every- 
 where displayed ; as in the last chapter we found displayed the 
 advance from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous./ 
 
 136. The general advance of Science in definiteness is best 
 shown by the contrast between its qualitative stage and its 
 quantitative stage. At first the facts ascertained were that be- 
 tween such and such phenomena some connexion existed that 
 the appearances a and b always occurred together or in succes- 
 sion ; but it was known neither what was the nature of the rela- 
 tion between a and 6, nor how much of a accompanied so much 
 of b. The development of Science has in part been the reduction 
 of these vague connexions to distinct ones. Most relations have 
 
FIRST PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 725 
 
 been classed as mechanical, chemical, thermal, electric, magnetic, 
 &c. ; and we have learnt to infer the relative amounts of the 
 antecedents and consequents with exactness. Of illustrations, 
 some furnished by physics have been given, and from other 
 sciences plenty may be added. We have ascertained the con- 
 stituents of numerous compounds which our ancestors could not 
 analyze, and of a far greater number which they never even saw ; 
 and the combining equivalents of the elements are now accurately 
 calculated. Physiology shows advance from qualitative to quanti- 
 tative prevision in ascertaining definite relations between organic 
 products and the materials consumed ; as well as hi measurement 
 of functions by spirometer and sphygmograph. By Pathology 
 it is displayed in the use of the statistical method of determin- 
 ing the sources of diseases, and the effects of treatment. In 
 Botany and Zoology, the numerical comparisons of Floras and 
 Faunas, leading to specific conclusions respecting their sources 
 and distributions, illustrate it. And in Sociology, questionable 
 as are many conclusions drawn from the classified sum-totals of 
 the census, from the Board-of-Trade tables, and from criminal 
 returns, it must be admitted that these imply a progress towards 
 more precise conceptions of social phenomena. 
 
 [That an essential characteristic of advancing Science is in- 
 crease in definiteness, appears indeed almost a truism, when 
 we remember that Science may be described as definite know- 
 ledge, in contradistinction to that indefinite knowledge possessed 
 by the uncultured. I And if, as we cannot question, Science has, 
 in the course of ages, been evolved out of this indefinite know- 
 ledge of the uncultured, then, the gradual acquirement of that 
 great definiteness which now distinguishes it, must have been 
 a leading trait in its evolution. 
 
 137. The Arts, industrial and aesthetic, supply illustra- 
 tions perhaps still more striking. Palaeolithic flint implements 
 show the extreme want of precision in men's first handiworks. 
 Though a great advance on these is seen in the tools and weapons 
 of existing savage tribes, yet an inexactness in forms and fittings 
 distinguishes such tools and weapons from those of civilized 
 
726 SPENCER 
 
 races. In a smaller degree, the productions of the less-advanced 
 nations are characterized by like defects. A Chinese junk, with 
 all its contained furniture and appliances, nowhere presents a 
 line that is quite straight, a uniform curve, or a true surface. 
 Nor do the utensils and machines of our ancestors fail to exhibit 
 a similar inferiority to our own. An antique chair, an old fire- 
 place, a lock of the last century, or almost any article of household 
 use that has been preserved for a few generations, proves by 
 contrast how greatly the industrial products of our time excel 
 those of the past in their accuracy. Since planing machines 
 have been invented, it has become possible to produce abso- 
 lutely straight lines, and surfaces so truly level as to be air-tight 
 when applied to each other; while in the dividing-engine of 
 Troughton, in the micrometer of Whitworth, in microscopes 
 that show fifty thousand divisions to the inch, and in ruled divi- 
 sions up to 200,000, we have an exactness as far exceeding that 
 reached in the works of our great-grandfathers, as theirs ex- 
 ceeded that of the aboriginal celt-makers. 
 
 In the Fine Arts there has been a parallel progress. From the 
 rudely-carved and painted idols of savages, through the early 
 sculptures characterized by limbs without muscular detail, 
 wooden-looking drapery, and faces devoid of individuality, up 
 to the later statues of the Greeks or some of those now produced, 
 the increased accuracy of representation is conspicuous. Com- 
 pare the mural paintings of the Egyptians with the paintings of 
 mediaeval Europe, or these with modern paintings, and the more 
 precise rendering of the appearances of objects is manifest. It 
 is the same with fiction and the drama. In the marvellous tales 
 current among Eastern nations, in the romantic legends of feudal 
 Europe, as well as in the mystery-plays and those immediately 
 succeeding them, we see great want of correspondence to the 
 realitiesgfjife ; alike in the predominance of supernatural events, 
 in the extremely improbable occurrences, and in the vaguely- 
 indicated personages. Along with social advance, there has been 
 a progressive diminjution of unnatundriess an approach to 
 trutk-j^L, representation. And now, cultivated men applaud 
 novels and plays Tn proportion to the fidelity with which they 
 
FIRST PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 727 
 
 exhibit characters ; improbabilities, like the impossibilities which 
 preceded them, are disallowed ; and we see fewer of those elabo- 
 rate plots which life rarely furnishes : realities are more definitely 
 pictured. 
 
 138. Space might be filled with evidences of other kinds, 
 but the basis of induction is already wide enough. 1 Proof that 
 all Evolution is from the indefinite to the definite,; we find not 
 less abundant than proof that all Evolution is from the homo- 
 geneous to the heterogeneous. 
 
 [Ch. XVII.] 139. The conception of Evolution elaborated 
 in the foregoing chapters, is still incomplete. True though it is, 
 it is not the whole truth. The transformations which all things 
 undergo during the ascending phases of their existence, we have 
 contemplated under three aspects; and by uniting these three 
 aspects as simultaneously presented, we have formed an approxi- 
 mate idea of the transformations. But there are concomitant 
 changes about which nothing has yet been said, and which, 
 though less conspicuous, are no less essential. 
 
 For thus far we have attended only to the re-distribution of 
 Matter, neglecting the accompanying re-distribution of Motion. 
 Distinct or tacit reference has, indeed, repeatedly been made to 
 the dissipation of Motion, that goes on along with the concentra- 
 tion of Matter; and were all Evolution absolutely simple, the 
 total fact would be contained in the proposition that as Motion 
 dissipates Matter concentrates. But while we have recognized 
 the ultimate re-distribution of the Motion, we have passed over 
 its proximate re-distribution. Though something has from time 
 to time been said about the escaping motion, nothing has been 
 said about the motion which does not escape. In proportion as 
 Evolution becomes compound in proportion as an aggregate 
 retains, for a considerable time, such quantity of motion as per- 
 mits secondary re-distributions of its component matter, there 
 necessarily arise secondary re-distributions of its retained mo- 
 tion. As fast as the parts are transformed, there goes on a trans- 
 formation of the sensible or insensible motions possessed by the 
 
72 8 SPENCER 
 
 parts. They cannot become more integrated, either individually 
 or as a combination, without their motions, individual or com- 
 bined, becoming more integrated. There cannot arise among 
 them heterogeneities of size, of form, of quality, without there 
 also arising heterogeneities in the amounts and directions of 
 their motions, or the motions of their molecules. And increasing 
 definiteness of the parts implies increasing defmiteness of their 
 motions. In short, the rhythmical actions going on in each ag- 
 gregate, must differentiate and integrate at the same time that 
 the structures do so. 
 
 1390. The general theory of the re-distribution of the re- 
 tained motion, must here be briefly stated. Properly to supple- 
 ment our conception of Evolution under its material aspect by 
 a conception of Evolution under its dynamical aspect, we have 
 to recognize the source of the integrated motions that arise, and 
 to see how their increased multiformity and definiteness are 
 necessitated. 
 
 If Evolution is a passage from a diffused state to an aggre- 
 gated state, then the motions of the celestial bodies must have 
 resulted from the uncancelled' motions of their once dispersed 
 components. Along with the molecular motions everywhere, 
 active, there were molar motions of those vast streams of nebulous 
 matter which were generated during the process of concentra- 
 tion molar motions of which large portions were gradually 
 dissipated as heat, leaving undissipated portions. But since the 
 molar motions of these nebulous streams were constituted from 
 the motions of multitudinous incoherent gaseous parts severally 
 moving more or less independently, it follows that when aggre- 
 gation into a liquid and finally solid celestial mass was reached, 
 these partially independent motions of the incoherent parts 
 became merged into the motion of the whole ; or, in other words, 
 unintegrated motions became an integrated motion. While we 
 must leave in the shape of hypothesis the belief that the celestial 
 motions have thus originated, we may see, as a matter of fact,- 
 that the integration of insensible motions originates all sensible 
 motions on the Earth's surface. As all know, the denudation of 
 
FIRST PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 729 
 
 lands and deposit of new strata, are effected by water while 
 descending to the sea, or during the arrest of those undulations 
 produced on it by winds; and, as before said, the elevation of 
 water to the height whence it fell, is due to solar heat, as is also 
 the genesis of those aerial currents which drift it about when 
 evaporated and agitate its surface when condensed. That is 
 to say,, the molecular motion of the ethereal medium is trans- 
 formed into the motion of gases, thence into the motion of liquids, 
 and thence into the motion of solids : stages in each of which a 
 certain amount of molecular motion is lost and an equivalent 
 motion of masses gained. It is the same with organic movements. 
 Certain rays issuing from the Sun, enable the plant to reduce 
 special elements existing in gaseous combinations around it, to 
 solid forms enable the plant, that is, to grow and carry on its 
 functional changes. And since growth, equally with circulation 
 of sap, is a mode of sensible motion, while those rays which have 
 been expended in generating both consist of insensible motions, 
 we have here, too, a transformation of the kind alleged. Animals, 
 derived as their forces are, directly or indirectly, from plants, 
 carry ihis transformation a step further. The automatic move- 
 ments of the viscera, together with the voluntary movements 
 of the limbs and body at large, arise at the expense of certain 
 molecular movements throughout the nervous a"nd muscular 
 tissues ; and these originally arose at the expense of certain other 
 molecular movements propagated by the Sun to the Earth; so 
 that both the structural and functional motions which organic 
 Evolution displays, are motions of aggregates generated by the 
 arrested motions of units. Even with the aggregates of these 
 aggregates the same rule holds. For among associated men the 
 progress is ever towards a merging of individual actions in the 
 actions of corporate bodies. I In militant life this is seen in the 
 advance from the independent fighting of separate warriors to 
 the combined fighting of regiments, and in industrial life in the 
 advance from the activities of separate workers to the combined 
 activities of factory hands. So is it, too, when instead of acting 
 alone citizens act in bodies -t^ompanies, unions, associations, 
 &c. While, then, during Evolution the escaping motion becomes, 
 
730 SPENCER 
 
 by widening dispersion, more disintegrated, the motion that is 
 for a time retained, becomes more integrated ; and so, considered 
 dynamically, Evolution is a decrease in the relative movements 
 of parts and increase in the relative movements of wholes 
 using the words parts and wholes in their most general senses. 
 The advance is from the motions of simple molecules to the 
 motions of compound molecules ; from molecular motions to the 
 motions of masses; and from the motions of smaller masses to 
 the motions of larger masses. 
 
 The accompanying change towards greater multiformity 
 among the retained motions, takes place under the form of an 
 increased variety of rhythms. A multiplication of rhythms 
 must accompany a multiplication in the degrees and modes of 
 aggregation, and in the relations of the aggregated masses to 
 incident forces. The degree or mode of aggregation will not, 
 indeed, affect the rate or extent of rhythm where the incident 
 force increases as the aggregate increases, which is the case with 
 gravitation : here the only cause of variation in rhythm is differ- 
 ence of relation to the incident force; as we see in a pendulum 
 which, though unaffected in its movements by a change in the 
 weight of the bob, alters its rate of oscillation when its length 
 is altered or when, otherwise unchanged, it is taken to the equator. 
 But in all cases where the incident forces do not vary as the 
 masses, every new order of aggregation initiates a new order of 
 rhythm : witness the conclusion drawn from the recent researches 
 into radiant heat and light, that the molecules of different gases 
 have different rates of undulation. So that increased multi- 
 formity in the arrangement of matter, necessarily generates in- 
 creased multiformity of rhythm ; both through increased variety 
 in the sizes and forms of aggregates, and through increased 
 variety in their relations to the forces which move them. That 
 these motions, as they become more integrated and more hetero- 
 geneous, must become more definite, is a proposition that need 
 not detain us. In proportion as any part of an evolving whole 
 segregates and consolidates, and in so doing loses the relative 
 mobility of its components, its aggregate motion must obviously 
 acquire distinctness. 
 
FIRST PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY 731 
 
 144. How in societies the movements or functions pro- 
 duced by the confluence of individual actions, increase in their 
 amounts, their multiformities, their precision, and their combi- 
 nation, scarcely needs insisting upon after what has been pointed 
 out in foregoing chapters. For the sake of symmetry of state- 
 ment, however, a typical example or two may be set down. 
 
 At first the military activities, undifferentiated from the rest 
 (all men in primitive societies being warriors) are relatively 
 homogeneous, jll-combined, and indefinite : savages making a 
 joint attack severally fight independently, in similar ways, and 
 without order. But as societies evolve the movements of the 
 thousands of soldiers which replace the tens of warriors, are 
 divided and re-divided hi their kinds of movements: here are 
 gunners, there infantry, and elsewhere cavalry. Within each of 
 the differentiated functions of these bodies there come others: 
 there are distinct actions of privates, sergeants, captains, colonels, 
 generals, as also of those who constitute- the commissariat and 
 those who attend to the wounded. The clustered motions that 
 have thus become comparatively heterogeneous in general and 
 in detail, have simultaneously increased in precision; so that in 
 battle, men and the regiments formed of them, are made to take 
 definite positions and perform definite acts at definite times. 
 Once more, there has gone on that integration by which the 
 multiform actions of an army are directed to a single end. By 
 a co-ordinating apparatus having the commander-in-chief for its 
 centre, the charges, and halts, and retreats are duly concerted; 
 and a hundred thousand individual motions are united under 
 one will. 
 
 Again on comparing the rule of a savage chief with that of a 
 civilized government, aided by its subordinate local governments 
 and their officers, down to the police, we see how, as men have 
 advanced from tribes of hundreds to nations of millions, the 
 regulative action has grown large in amount; how, guided by 
 written laws, it has passed from vagueness and irregularity to 
 comparative precision ; and how it has sub-divided into processes 
 increasingly multiform. Or after observing how the barter that 
 goes on among barbarians differs from our own commercial 
 
732 SPENCER 
 
 processes, by which a million's worth of commodities is dis- 
 tributed daily ; by which the relative values of articles immensely 
 varied in kinds and qualities are exactly measured, and the sup- 
 plies adjusted to the demands; and by which industrial activities 
 of all orders are so combined that each depends on the rest and 
 aids the rest ; we see that the kind of movement which constitutes 
 trade, has become progressively more vast, more varied, more 
 definite, and more integrated. 
 
 145. A finished conception of Evolution thus includes the 
 re-distribution of the retained motion, as well as that of the com- 
 ponent matter. This added element of the conception is scarcely, 
 if at all, less important than the other. The movements of the 
 Solar System have a significance equal to that which the sizes, 
 forms, and relative distances of its members possess. The Earth's 
 geographical and geological structure are not more important 
 elements in the order of Nature than are the motions, regular 
 and irregular, of the water and the air clothing it. And of the 
 phenomena presented by an organism, it must be admitted that 
 the combined sensible and insensible actions we call its life, do 
 not yield in interest to its structural traits. Leaving out, however, 
 all implied reference to the way in which these two orders of 
 facts concern us, it is clear that with each re-distribution of mat- 
 ter there necessarily goes a re-distribution of motion; and that 
 the unified knowledge constituting Philosophy, must compre- 
 hend both aspects of the transformation. 
 
 Our formula, therefore, needs an additional clause. To com- 
 bine this satisfactorily with the clauses as they stand in the last 
 chapter, is scarcely practicable ; and for convenience of expression 
 it will be best to change their order. On doing this, and making 
 the requisite addition, the formula finally stands thus : Evolu- ^ 
 tion is an integration of matter and concomitant dissipation of 
 motion ; during which the matter passes from an indefinite, inco- 
 herent homogeneity to a definite, coherent heterogeneity ; and during 
 which the retained motion undergoes a parallel transformation. l u 
 
 1 The definition of Evolution needs qualifying by introduction of the word 
 " relatively " before each of its antithetical clauses. The statement should be 
 that " the matter passes from a relatively indefinite, incoherent homogeneity to a 
 relatively definite, coherent heterogeneity." . . . 
 
ilNDEX 
 
INDEX 
 
 ABBOTT, T. K., 457. 
 
 Absolute, The, 571, 584, 592, 593, 594. 
 
 Abstraction, 265, 296, 489, 554. 
 
 Academy, New, 47. 
 
 Accidents, 3, 17, 73, 137, 153, 154, 200, 
 
 249, 269, 270. 
 Actuality, 599, 600-604. 
 ^schines, 51. 
 
 ^Esthetic, Transcendental, 381-405, 442. 
 Affections, 35, 200. 
 Alexander the Great, 51, 52, 61. 
 Alexandria, School of, 678. 
 Analytic, Transcendental, 391, 392- 
 
 405, 422, 447. 
 
 Anatomy, Comparative, 682. 
 Anaxagoras, 42. 
 Anthropology, 566. 
 Antinomies, 431-446, 475, 480, 581. 
 Appearance, 57, 59, 290, 434, 598-599. 
 Apperception, Transcendental, 400, 
 
 401403, 414, 429. 
 Archetype, 259, 267, 280, 290, 295. 
 Archimedes, 123. 
 Architecture, 723. 
 Aristotle, 10, u, 18, 19, 21, 36, 41, 42, 
 
 51, 52, 58, 91, 268, 395, 590, 657, 678. 
 Arithmetic, 69, 70, 115, 120, 133, 313. 
 Art, Platonic, 651-658. 
 Arts, 718-720, 725, 726. 
 Assent, 28, 216, 217, 218, 221, 223, 225. 
 Association, Laws of, 312, 313, 690- 
 
 692. 
 
 Astronomy, 676. 
 Atoms, 42; (Monads), 199-214. 
 Attention, 244, 348, 351, 357, 362, 375. 
 Attributes, 148-160, 168, 169. 
 Autonomy, 463, 471, 473. 
 Axioms, 26, 27, 31, 38, 42, 55, 56, 149, 
 
 167-168, 409, 443. 
 
 Bacon, Francis, 24-56, 678, 683, 684, 
 
 688. 
 
 Bayle, M., 201, 208. 
 Becoming, 586-588. 
 
 Being, 270, 291, 431, 448-456. 
 
 Being, Doctrine of, 582-592. 
 
 Being, Supreme, 448-456. 
 
 Belief, 118, 484-485, 495- 
 
 Berkeley, George, 263-306, 630, 697. 
 
 Berthollet, 676. 
 
 Berzelius, 686. 
 
 Biology, 714. 
 
 Blainville, M. de, 682. 
 
 Body, 39, 57, 199-204, 231-242, 265, 
 
 270, 273, 281, 330. 
 Body, human, 13, 61, 86, 118, 122- 
 
 132, 186-189, iQS, 3 20 335, 43, 
 
 640-647. 
 Botany, 725. 
 Brain, 61, 62, 230, 360. 
 Brown, 697. 
 Bruno, Giordano, 1-23. 
 Buddhists, 585. 
 
 Cabalists, 4. 
 
 Calderon, 638. 
 
 Cartesians, 201, 337. 
 
 Categories, 41, 392-405, 408, 422, 424, 
 
 503, 577- 
 Causality, 74, 154, 191, 313, 316, 319- 
 
 342, 407, 413, 420, 438-441, 460, 
 
 632-637, 695, 702. 
 
 Cause, final, 154, 164-166, 205, 214. 
 Cause, First, 1-23, 137, 154-163, 453, 
 
 479, 702-705. 
 Certainty, 118, 258, 262, 314, 384, 500, 
 
 543- 
 
 Chance, 6oi< 
 
 Changeless, The, 613-627. 
 Chemistry, 676, 678, 686. 
 Chimera, 134, 277, 290. 
 Chinese, 112. 
 Cicero, 72. 
 Qarke, 337. 
 Columbus, 49. 
 Commonwealth (Hobbes'), 57, 59. 76, 
 
 78, 96-100. 
 Comte, Auguste, 672-689, 710. 
 
73 6 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Concept, The, 406-408, 418, 419, 425, 
 
 426, 427, 432, 446, 449-45 1 , 464- 
 Conception, 167, 378, 382, 384, 386, 
 
 39, 393- 
 
 Conceptions, Analytic of, 396-405. 
 Condillac, fitienne Bonnotde, 347-375. 
 Connection, necessary, 280, 326-342, 
 
 338-339, 353- 
 Conscience, 526. 
 Consciousness, 330, 384, 395, 498, 500, 
 
 504, 509, 539, 540, 544, 560, 599, 
 
 629, 700, 703. 
 
 Consciousness, The Contrite, 614-628. 
 Contract, 84, 87-88. 
 Cosmology, 432. 
 Covenant, 88-89, 9, 99- 
 Cudworth, 337. 
 Cynic, 106. 
 
 Deduction, Transcendental, 397-406, 
 
 554-566, 714- 
 
 Deed-act, 498, 499, 501, 502, 503. 
 Definition, 32, 148-149, 154, 155, 162, 
 
 172, 204. 
 
 Degree, 589, 590-592. 
 Democritus, 35, 37, 42. 
 Descartes, Rene, 101-147, 2 6, 212, 
 
 337, 504, 630, 678, 684, 685, 687. 
 Design, 65, 66, 609. 
 Desire, 65, 77, 362-364, 457, 459. 
 Dialectic, Transcendental, 424-456, 
 
 471-485, 579, 58o, 58i. 
 Diogenes Laertes, 651. 
 Discovery, Tables of, 49, 54. 
 Dogmatism, 489-496, 550, 551, 633. 
 Doubt, 117-124, 134, 343. 
 Dozzi, 655. 
 Dreams, 33, 61, 62, 118, 127, 270, 279, 
 
 312, 374, 414, 636-638, 662. 
 Duration, 141, 156, 178, 189, 370, 375, 
 
 413, 484, 658. 
 Duty, 86, 306, 469, 479, 485, 528, 529. 
 
 Effect, 70, 74, 149, 171, 313-317, 333, 
 
 339, 341, 683, 694. 
 
 Ego, 374, 429, 499~5 I 5 535> 559~568. 
 Egoism, 645, 646, 664. 
 Eleatics, 645, 646, 664. 
 Ellis, R. L., 24. 
 Elwes, R. H. M., 148. 
 Emotions, 182, 348-364. 
 
 Empedocles, 7, 8, TO, 21, 42. 
 Entelechy, 201, 202, 206, 209, 210, 211. 
 Epicureans, 293. 
 Error, 71-73, 101, in, 120. 
 Essence, 26, 163, 167, 170, 173, 179, 
 
 181, 188, 189, 191, 205. 
 Essence, Doctrine of, 582, 592-604. 
 Eternity, 155, 156, 190, 191, 193, 370. 
 Ethics, Spinoza's, 148-198. 
 Euclid, 175, 258, 314. 
 Evil, 78, 95, 194, 214, 305, 533. 
 Evolution, Law of, 714-732. 
 Experience, 51-54, 75, 107, 227, 280, 
 
 315, 316-324, 33i, 385, 386, 387, 
 
 403-405, 420, 443, 445 446, 447, 
 
 452, 454, 487, 488, 571. 
 Experience, Analogies of, 411-416. 
 Experiment, 27, 35, 41, 42. 
 Extension, 120, 123, 139, 141, 168, 171, 
 
 234, 238, 239, 267, 269, 281, 287, 
 
 295, 442. 
 
 Faith, 
 
 Feeling, 348-641. 
 
 Fichte, Johann Gottlieb, 486-535, 563, 
 
 633, 7 J - 
 
 Finite, 148, 592, 613. 
 Form, i, 6, 14-21, 381-392, 553, 695, 
 
 696. 
 
 Fourier, M., 677. 
 Fraser, A. C., 215. 
 Freedom, 181-198, 226, 438-439, 454, 
 
 460-471, 490, 493, 495, 5 l6 > 5 2 9 
 
 568, 603-604. 
 
 Galileo, 678, 688. 
 
 Genus, 657, 658, 666. 
 
 Geometry, 75, 120, 133, 313, 318, 326, 
 
 384, 409, 410. 
 Gilbert, 36, 43. 
 Gnostics, ii, 
 God, 132-166, 301, 302, 448-456, 478- 
 
 479, 480, 485. 
 Good, 78, 79, 95, 465, 466. 
 Gravitation, 677. 
 Greeks, 41, 43, 59, 9 2 > 667, 7 8 - 
 Ground, The, 596-598. 
 
 Habit, 36, 121, 244; 339, 34 8 , 351, 360, 
 
 368, 496- 
 Haldane, R. B., 629. 
 
INDEX 
 
 737 
 
 Haller, 591. 
 
 Hamilton, Sir Wm., 690-702. 
 
 Happiness, 180, 464, 474-476, 478, 
 
 660. 
 Harmony, preestablished, 212, 213, 
 
 3i> 543- 
 
 Harris, Wm. T., 199. 
 Hedge, Frederic H., 199. 
 Hegel, George Wilhelm Friedrich, 
 
 569-628. 
 
 Heraclitus, 31, 42, 587. 
 Hippocrates, 209. 
 History, 7, 656; natural, 52, 54; 
 
 philosophy of, 602. 
 Hobbes, Thomas, 57-100, 637. 
 Hobbists, 293. 
 Homer, 654. 
 Homceomera, 42. 
 Humboldt, 718. 
 Hume, David, 307-346, 697. 
 Hypothesis, 484, 547. 
 
 Idea, The Absolute, 569-613. 
 Idea, The Platonic, 650, 651-658. 
 Idea, World as, 629-639. 
 Ideal, Transcendental, 446-448, 620- 
 
 626. 
 
 Idealism, 489-496, 633. 
 Idealism, Transcendental, 535-568, 
 
 604. 
 Ideas, association of, 203-204, 312-313, 
 
 690-692. 
 Ideas, Descartes on, 133-169; Locke, 
 
 215-262; Berkeley, 263-300; Hume, 
 
 3 7~3 I 3> Condillac, 359-372; Kant, 
 
 382-389. 
 
 Identity, 430, 558, 564, 594~595> 597- 
 Idols, Bacon's, 24-48. 
 Imagination, 33, 59-69, 129, 193, 264, 
 
 265, 276, 312, 343, 357, 373, 399- 
 
 400, 409, 413, 486, 645, 720. 
 Imperative, Categorical, 461-463. 
 Impression, 217, 242, 265, 308, 311, 
 
 3 28 > 35> 354, 370, 393- 
 Individuality, 606, 607, 610, 617, 618, 
 
 626. 
 Individuationis principium, 648, 670, 
 
 671. 
 
 Induction, 48-56. 
 Inference, 323. 
 Infinite, 68, 530, 556, 578, 590, 592. 
 
 Intellect, 7, 8, 9, 160, 161, 173, 175. 
 Intuition, 421, 422, 423, 429, 430, 466, 
 
 484, 540, 544, 545, 546, 566, 568, 
 
 584- 
 
 Intuition, Axioms of, 409-410. 
 Irony, 580. 
 
 James, William, 614. 
 
 Job, 43. 
 
 Johnson, Dr., 698. 
 
 Judgment, 243, 343, 351, 361. 
 
 Jurisprudence, 104. 
 
 Justice, 88, 89, 95, 96, 222, 223, 477. 
 
 Kant, Immanuel, 376-485, 503, 504, 
 514, 565, 581, 591, 630, 631, 632, 
 
 637. 
 
 Kantians, 483. 
 
 Kemp, J., 629. 
 
 Kepler, 676. 
 
 Klopstock, 591. 
 
 Knowable, The, 708-714. 
 
 Knowledge, Spinoza on, 174-178, 190- 
 192; Hume, 308-342; Locke, 254- 
 262; Berkeley, 263-306; Kant, 376- 
 446; Fichte, 486-515. 
 
 Kroeger, A. E., 497. 
 
 Language, 104, 280, 715, 716. 
 
 Laplace, 688, 689. 
 
 Latins, 59, 66, 75, 78, 90. 
 
 Law, 4, 35, 224, 397, 459, 460, 522, 
 
 5 26 > S 2 7- 
 
 Law, moral, 461-483. 
 Laws, natural, 84-96. 
 Leibnitz, Gottfried Wilhelm von, 199- 
 
 214. 
 
 Leucippus, 37, 42. 
 Leviathan, Hobbes', 57-100, 637. 
 Locke, John, 215-262, 311, 312, 329, 
 
 337- 
 
 Logic, 26, 27, 31, 42, 112, 113; tran- 
 scendental, of Kant, 389-406; He- 
 gel's, 569, 613. 
 
 Logic, transcendental, 377-378, 406- 
 424. 
 
 Love of God, Spinoza's intellectual, 
 192-197. 
 
 Lucretius, 664. 
 
 Lully, 112. 
 
 Luynes, Due de, 117. 
 
738 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Mclntyre, J. Lewis, 2. 
 Magnitude, 590, 591. 
 Malebranche, 337. 
 Man, 31, 34, 57-96, 721. 
 Manichaeism, 305. 
 Martineau, Harriet, 672. 
 Martineau, James, 706. 
 Mathematics, 104, 112, 166, 318, 327, 
 
 379, 404, 410, 544, 655. 
 Matter, i, 7, 21, 210, 238, 240, 266, 
 
 26 7> 34 7> 5 l8 > 56o, 693-698, 7*4- 
 Maxim, 218, 221, 457, 461, 464, 474, 
 
 485- 
 
 Maya, 670. 
 Measure, 592. 
 
 Meditations, Descartes', 117-147. 
 Melody, 665. 
 Memory, 54, 60, 70, 201, 203, 314, 349, 
 
 357, 3 6 , 361, 368, 374- 
 Metaphysics, 42, 375, 575. 
 Method, 74, 216, 300, 338, 563, 681. 
 Method, Comte's, 684-689. 
 Method, Descartes', 101-116. 
 Mill, John Stuart, 690-702. 
 Mind, 68, 122-132, 141, 166-180, 181, 
 
 218, 221, 226, 227, 245, 265, 275, 
 
 279, 289, 294, 312, 338, 573, 576. 
 Minerva, 14, 113. 
 Modality, 394, 396, 417. 
 Mode, 157, 170, 171, 172, 178, 246, 
 
 247, 261, 281, 368. 
 Molesworth, Sir Wm., 57, 70, 74. 
 Molineaux, 243. 
 
 Monadology of Leibnitz, 199-214. 
 Morality, 461, 463, 474, 479. 
 Morals, Spinoza's, 148-198; Kant's, 
 
 457-485- 
 Motion, 57, 59, 64, 233, 241, 250, 266, 
 
 272, 282, 284, 300, 317, 331, 714, 718, 
 
 727, 730. 
 
 Muller, F. Max, 406. 
 Multiplicity, 647, 649. 
 Music, 719. 
 
 Names, 38, 39, 71, 72, 73. 
 Nature, 24, 25, 28, 31, 45, 203, 205, 
 211, 213, 276, 303, 305, 336, 518, 
 
 5 2 3> 53 1 , 533 536, 537, 544, 573, 
 588, 659, 694, 695, 706, 711, 732. 
 
 Nature, Hobbes' Laws of, 84-96. 
 
 Necessity, 149, 155, 162, 177, 178, 396, 
 
 397, 419, 487, 493, 5*5, 569, 602- 
 
 603. 
 
 Negation, 396, 397, 507. 
 Newton, Sir Isaac, 337. 
 Nominalist, 42. 
 Nothing, 585-589. 
 Notion, 26, 30, 177, 219, 251, 299, 347, 
 
 365-37I- 
 Notion, Hegel's Doctrine of, 582, 604- 
 
 613. 
 
 Noumena, 420-424. 
 Novum Organum, 24-56. 
 Number, 69, 139, 140, 154, 166, 169, 
 
 176, 239, 268, 346, 366, 375, 589. 
 Number, Hegel's Doctrine of, 582, 
 
 604-613. 
 
 Object, 540, 559, 561, 608, 632, 633, 
 
 634- 
 
 Objectivity, 608-618, 658, 660. 
 Obligation, 462, 463, 703. 
 Olympus, 654. 
 One, The, 1-23. 
 Ontology, 422. 
 
 Opinion, in, 124, 175, 216, 283, 342. 
 Organum, 2, 392, 544, 546. 
 Orpheus, 7. 
 Ossian, 654. 
 Ovid, 17. 
 
 Paralogisms, 426-431, 432, 480. 
 Parcimony, Law of, 696. 
 Parmenides, 42, 58. 
 Passions, 76-80, 84, 207, 307, 362-364, 
 
 374, 683. 
 Perception, 130, 131, 201, 202, 207, 
 
 227, 238, 242-245, 307, 381, 385, 
 
 388, 389, 390, 393, 398-399, 418, 
 
 6 39> 657. 
 Perception, Anticipations of, 409, 410- 
 
 411. 
 Perception, Kant's Anticipations of, 
 
 409, 4io,-4ii. 
 
 Peripatetics, The, 2, 4, 12, 13, 14, 20. 
 Personality, 374, 47, 47 i 73- 
 Petrarch, 669. 
 Phenomena, 381-389, 400, 401, 409- 
 
 416, 420-424, 432, 442, 517, 536, 
 
 651, 689. 
 Philosophy, 4, 36, 37, 104, 106, 116, 
 
 272,486-496, 511, 569-574, 703-734- 
 
INDEX 
 
 739 
 
 Philosophy, Comte's Positive, 672- 
 
 689. 
 
 Philosophy, Hume's sceptical, 342-346. 
 Philosophy, Schelling's Transcendental, 
 
 535-568. 
 
 Physics, 100, 387, 678, 679. 
 Physiology, 678, 725. 
 Pindar, 637. 
 Plato, 12, 21, 43, 46, 51, 56, 571, 580, 
 
 637, 650, 651, 652, 667. 
 Platonists, 4, 51. 
 Pleasure, 235-236, 348-362, 373, 375, 
 
 458, 662, 663. 
 Plotinus, ii. 
 Plurality, 395, 397. 
 Poetry, 105, 546, 664, 665. 
 Poiret, M., 206. 
 Positivism, 672-689. 
 Postulates, 168, 409, 416-420, 479- 
 
 481,563,568. 
 Power, 57, 144, 155, 163, 181, 206, 238, 
 
 326-337, 341, 470, 704, 707. 
 Principle, 122, 204, 294, 320, 387, 392, 
 
 453> 568. 
 
 Principle, The, of Bruno, 1-23. 
 Principles, Kant's Analytic of, 406-424. 
 Principles, Locke on innate, 217-226. 
 Proclus, 51. 
 
 Progression, infinite, 590-592. 
 Proposition, 26, 204, 314, 315, 316, 
 
 321. 
 Propositions, Analytic and Synthetic, 
 
 377-378, 3 8 4, 386, 387, 553-554- 
 Propositions of Spinoza, 149-164, 168- 
 
 197. 
 
 Protagoras, 46, 580. 
 Psychology, 427, 428, 429, 430, 431, 
 
 682, 706, 714. 
 Pyrrho, 47. 
 Pyrrhonism, 342, 343. 
 Pythagoras, 15, 43, 709. 
 Pythagoreans, 7. 
 
 Qualities, 44, 238-242, 252, 266, 269, 
 
 289, 702. 
 Quality, 583-588. 
 Quantity, 588-592. 
 Quieter of the will, 669. 
 
 Rand, Benjamin, 486, 535. 
 Realism, 546, 633. 
 
 Reality, 137, 138, 292, 385, 396, 397, 
 
 411, 425, 452, 546, 547, 690. 
 Reason, 69-76, 102-112, 177, 185, 220, 
 
 22 i 254, 316, 327, 494, 516, 628, 675. 
 Reason, Critique of Practical, 457-485. 
 Reason, Critique of Pure,- 406-456. 
 Reason, Principle of Sufficient, 204, 
 
 629, 632-638, 643, 651, 652, 656, 657. 
 Reflection, 146, 226-228, 235-237, 326, 
 
 33> 49?'> 498, 580, 593, 594, 596. 
 Reid, 697. 
 Reinhold, 563. 
 Relation, 246, 248, 256, 257, 291, 412, 
 
 436. 
 
 Religion, 196, 708. 
 Researches, Asiatic, 630. 
 Resemblance, 241, 274, 283, 313, 324. 
 Rhythm, 718, 730. 
 Romance, 105. 
 Rorarius, 201, 208. 
 Royce, Josiah, i, 614. 
 Royce, Katharine, i. 
 Rules, Moral, 223-226, 457-461. 
 
 Sceptic, The, 619. 
 
 Scepticism, 290, 292, 342-346, 538, 
 
 614, 615, 619, 645. 
 Schelling, Friedrich Wilhelm von, 535- 
 
 568, 701. 
 
 Schematism, 407-418. 
 Schoolmen, 42, 69, 312. 
 Schopenhauer, Arthur, 629-671. 
 Science, 717-718, 724-725. 
 Self, The, 615-626. 
 Self-consciousness, 402, 429, 502, 549, 
 
 558, 566. 
 Sensation, 226-228, 235-242, 267, 270, 
 
 293, 311, 381, 382, 410, 411, 416, 418- 
 Sensations, Condillac's Treatise on, 
 
 347-375- 
 
 Sensations, Mill on Permanent Possi- 
 bilities of, 690-702. 
 
 Senses, 35, 48, 57-59, 61, 125, 130, 131, 
 229, 230-231, 240, 264, 267, 270, 
 275, 276, 291, 302, 307, 311, 320, 
 347-375. 42i, 448, 642. 
 
 Sensibility, 381, 382, 390, 391, 393, 418, 
 
 427, 443- 
 
 Shakespeare, 637. 
 Sleep, 61, 118, 119, 122, 201,276, 373. 
 Smith, Wm., 516, 633, 645. 
 
740 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Socinians, 294. 
 
 Sociology, 714, 725. 
 
 Socrates, 580, 709. 
 
 Solidity, 230-234, 238, 249, 266, 287. 
 
 Sophists, 580. 
 
 Sophocles, 637. 
 
 Soul, Immortality of, 298, 476-477, 
 
 483- 
 Space, 200, 232-234, 388, 389, 400, 
 
 405, 410, 415, 435~437 443 6 3 2 
 
 653- 
 
 Species, 20, 58, 102, 212, 213. 
 Spedding, James, 24. 
 Spencer, Herbert, 703-732. 
 Spinoza, Baruch de, 148-198, 504, 591, 
 
 603. 
 
 Spinozism, 530. 
 
 Spirit, 263, 264, 266, 275, 282, 292, 302. 
 Statue, Condillac's figure of, 347-375. 
 Stewart, 697. 
 Stoicism, 619. 
 Stoics, 709. 
 Substance, 3, 14, 45, 139, 141, 246, 247, 
 
 248-253, 259, 262, 266, 412, 413, 414, 
 
 427, 428, 429, 430, 436-437, 455, 
 
 613, 693. 
 Substance, Spinoza's Doctrine of, 148- 
 
 163. 
 Substratum, 261, 269, 270, 272, 289, 
 
 412, 413, 562, 606, 647. 
 Sumichrast, Frederick C. de, 347. 
 Summum Bonum, 473-476. 
 
 Talmudists, 4. 
 Tasso, Torquato, 668. 
 Teleology, 544, 609. 
 Terms, 300, 312, 327, 367. 
 Theology, 41, 74, 104, 105, 345, 682. 
 Theorem, 72, 204. 
 
 Thing-in-itself, 385, 490-648, 653, 656. 
 Thought, 150, 161, 1 68, 308, 390, 497, 
 572- 
 
 Thought, Postulates of, 409, 416-420. 
 
 Thnaeus, 5. 
 
 Time, 188-191, 294, 295, 371, 382, 386- 
 
 389, 398, 399, 400, 408, 411, 414, 436, 
 
 441, 632, 649, 652, 653. 
 Troughton, 726. 
 Truth, 117, n8, 122, 136, 206, 217, 221, 
 
 2 5 8 ' 39i> 548, 557, 577, 609, 610, 614. 
 
 Understanding, 14, 32, 38, 46, 50, 64, 
 125, 129, 181-198, 215-262, 274, 
 307-346, 381, 390, 392-397, 404, 408- 
 420, 424, 428, 446, 466, 634, 635, 
 642. 
 
 Unity, 236, 268, 393, 401, 432, 586, 592, 
 600. 
 
 Unknown, The, 703-707. 
 
 Vedanta, 630. 
 
 Vedas, 637. 
 
 Veitch, John, 101, 117. 
 
 Virgil, 1 6. 
 
 Virtue, 196, 197, 469. 
 
 Vision, Berkeley's Theory of, 279. 
 
 Vocation of Man, Fichte's, 516-534. 
 
 Volition, 179, 214, 235, 333, 473, 518, 
 
 523- 
 Vyasa, 630. 
 
 Wallace, Wm., 569. 
 
 War, 82, 83, 84, 97>-98. 
 
 Watson, John, 376. 
 
 Whit worth, 726. 
 
 Will, 135, 136, 179, 206, 235, 326-337, 
 
 459, 461-470, 521, 524, 525, 528, 533. 
 World as Will and Idea, Schopenhauer 
 
 on, 629-671. 
 World, Mill's Theory of belief in ex- 
 
 ternal, 690-702. 
 
 Zeno, 590, 709. 
 Zoology, 717. 
 
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