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ENQUIRIES
CONCERNING THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING
AND CONCERNING THE PRINCIPLES OF MORAL!
BY DAVID HUME
HENRY FROWDE, M.A.
PUBLISHER TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD
LONDON, EDINBURGH
NEW YORK
ENQUIRIES
CONCERNING THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING
AND CONCERNING THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS
BY DAVID HUME
•REPRINTED FROM THE POSTHUMOUS EDITION OF 1777
AND EDITED WITH INTRODUCTION, COMPARATIVE
TABLES OF CONTENTS, AND ANALYTICAL INDEX BY
L. A. SELBY-BIGGE, M.A.
LATE FELLOW OF UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, OXFORD
SECOND EDITION
OXFORD
AT THE CLARENDON PRESS
MDCCCCII
■ 1>
OXFORD
PRINTED AT THE CLARENDON PRESS
BY HORACE HART, M.A.
PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITV
NOTE TO THE FIRST EDITION
This edition is a reprint of the second volume of the
posthumous edition of 1777, omitting 'A Dissertation
on the Passions,' 'A Dialogue,' 'The Natural History of
Religion,' and a long note (L) to § x. Of Miracles, in the
' Enquiry concerning Human Understanding.'
The marginal sections have been introduced merely for
convenience of reference, and for the clearer articulation
of the argument, and do not correspond to anything in
the original edition.
Three comparative tables of contents are given at the
end of the Introduction, showing the relation of the two
Enquiries and the Dissertation on the Passion to the three
books of the Treatise.
In these tables, and also in the Index and Introduction,
the references to the Enquiries are made by means of the
marginal sections of the present edition, those to the
Dissertation by means of the pages of the edition of 1777,
and those to the Treatise by means of the pages of the
Clarendon Press edition, Oxford, 1888.
NOTE TO THE SECOND EDITION
This edition contains ' A Dialogue ' and the note to § x.
which were omitted in the first edition.
:\S-
EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION
1 Hume's philosophic writings are to be read with great
caution. His pages, especially those of the Treatise, are
so full of matter, he says so many different things in so
many different ways and different connexions, and with so
much indifference to what he has said before, that it is very
hard to say positively that he taught, or did not teach, this
or that particular doctrine. He applies the same principles
to such a great variety of subjects that it is not surprising
that many verbal, and some real inconsistencies can be
found in his statements. He is ambitious rather than shy
of saying the same thing in different ways, and at the
same time he is often slovenly and indifferent abbut his
words and formulae. This makes, it easy to find all
philosophies in Hume, or, by setting up one statement
against another, none at all. Of Professor Green's criticism
of Hume it is impossible to speak, here in Oxford, without
the greatest respect. Apart from its philosophic import-
ance, it is always serious and legitimate; but it is also
impossible not to feel that it would have been quite as
important and a good deal shorter, if it had contained
fewer of the verbal victories which are so easily won
over Hume.
2 The question. whether Hume's philosophy is to be judged
by his Treatise or his Enquiries is of some interest, and
viii INTRODUCTION.
this Introduction aims chiefly at making clear the relation
between them.
Hume composed his Treatise between the ages of twenty-
one and twenty-five^ finishing it in the year 1736. The
first two books were published in 1739, and the third book
in 1740. The first edition of the Enquiry into the Human
Understanding appeared in 1748; the Enquiry concerning
the Principles of Morals appeared in 1751, and the Dis-
sertation on the Passions (corresponding to Bk. II of the
Treatise) in 1757'.
Hume says himself that the Treatise ' fell dead-born from
the press without reaching such distinction as even to
excite a murmur among the zealots.' That distinction was,
to the end of his life, particularly dear to Hume,- and it will
be seen that in the Enquiries he made a bold bid for it in
his quite superfluous section on Miracles and a Particular
Providence. He entertained the notion, however, that his
want of success in publishing the Treatise ' had proceeded
' At the time when the Treatise was published, Locke, Berkeley,
Clarke, Shaftesbury, and Mandeville were already classics. Hutcheson
had published his Enquhy in 1725, and his Essay and Illustrations in
1728. Butler's sermons were published in 1726, and \a& Analogy a.'udi
Dissertations in 1736. WoUastou's Religions of Nature Delineated
was first printed in 1722, and Cudworth's Eternal and Immutable
Morality did not appear till 1731, more than forty years after the
author's death. The first edition of H. Home's (Lord Kames) Essays
appeared in 1751, and that of Price's Review in 1758. There is not
much direct criticism of other philosophers in Hume's books. Locke's
distinction of primary and secondary qualities, and WoUaston's theory
of ' truth ' in morals, are directly handled in the Treatise ; but whereas
Hume's contemporaries were much stronger in criticism of one another's
principles than in the establishment of their own, Hume's writings are
from the first distinguished by a great detachment from particular
controversies. The close internal relation of the Treatise to Locke's
essay as the philosopher's bible of the time has been pointed out by
Mr. Grose. Hume's Philosophical Works, iii. 36. London : Longmans
1875-
INTRODUCTION, ix
more from the manner than the matter,' and that he had
been 'guilty of a very usual indiscretion in going to the
press too early.' He therefore ' cast the first part of that
work anew in the Enquiry concerning the Human Under-
standing^^ and afterwards continued the same process in
his Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, which, he
says, 'in my own opinion is of all my writings, historical,
philosophical, or literary, incomparably the best.' In the
posthumous edition of his Collected Essays of 1777, the
Advertisement, on which so much stress has been laid, first
appeared. It is printed at the beginning of this reprint,
and declares the author's desire that ' the following pieces
may alone be regarded as containing his philosophical
sentiments and principles.'
This declaration has not only been taken seriously by
some writers, but they have even complied with it and
duly ignored the Treatise. By others it has been treated
as an interesting indication of the character of a man who
had long ago given up philosophj', who always had a passion
for applause, and little respect or generosity for his own
failures. By Mr. Grose the Advertisement is regarded as
'the posthumous utterance of a splenetic invahd,' and
Mr. Green's elaborate criticism is directed almost entirely
against the Treatise.
3 To discuss a question of literary justice would be out of
place in an Introduction which aims at estimating philo-
sophic importance. Two remarks, however, may be made
before passing on.
The first is, that even in Hume's philosophical writings
the author's personal character continually excites our
interest. The Treatise, as was noticed at the time of its
publication, is full of egoisms. Even in this severe work,
X INTRODUCTION.
together with a genuine ardour and enthusiasm, there is
an occasional note of insincerity, arrogance or wantonness
which strikes the serious student painfully. The following
pages will perhaps show that Hume, in re-casting the
Treatise into its new form, displayed the less admirable
sides of his temper rather freely.
In the second place, it is undeniable that Hume's own
judgement on the style of his earlier work was quite correct.
The Treatise was ill-proportioned, incoherent, ill-expressed.
There are ambiguities and obscurities of expression in im-
portant passages which are most exasperating. Instead of
the easy language, familiar and yet precise, of the Enquiries,
we have an amount of verbal vagueness and slovenliness
for which it is hard to excuse even ' a solitary Scotchman.'
How far the difference between the two works is merely
one of style is considered below, but whether it be due to
matter or manner, it remains that the Enquiries are an easy
book and the Treatise a very hard one. In the Treatise
he revels in minutiae, in difficulties, in paradoxes : he
heaps questions upon himself, and complicates argument
by argument : he is pedantic and captious. In the Enquiry
he ignores much with which he had formerly vexed his own
and his readers' souls, and like a man of the world takes
the line of least resistance (except as touching the ' zealots ').
He gives us elegance, lucidity and proportion.
4 Perhaps it may be allowed the writer here to record his
own adherence to those who judge Hume's philosophy by his
Treatise. Bk. I of the Treatise is beyond doubt a work of
first-rate philosophic importance, and in some ways the
most important work of philosophy in the English language.
It would be impossible to say the same of the Enquiries,
and although in one sense the Enquiry concerning the
INTRODUCTION. xi
Principles of Morals is the best thing Hume ever wrote,
to ignore the Treatise is to deprive him of his place
among the great thinkers of Europe.
At the same time it is perhaps well worth while to
examine rather closely the actual relations between the
contents of the earlier and later works. The comparative
tables of contents which are printed at the end of this
Introduction may perhaps save the student some ungrateful
labour, and show, in a graphic form, at all events the relative
amount of space assigned to various subjects in the two
works. The difference in the method of treatment, con-
clusions, and general tone can of course only be gathered
by reading the different passages side by side. The
results of such a reading are presented in the following
pages.
5 Taking the Enquiry concerning the Human Under-
standing separately, we are at once struck by the entire
omission of Bk. I, part ii of the Treatise. Space and time
are not treated of at all in the Enquiry as independent
subjects interesting in themselves ; they are only intro-
duced incidentally in §§ 1 24-5 of the Enquiry, as illustrating
the absurdity of the abstract sciences and in support of
a sceptical position.
We are also struck by the introduction of the two
theological sections (x-xi) of the Enquiry, and by the
very small space given to the general questions concerning
knowledge and the relation ot subject and object.
Sections 1 16-132, covering only seventeen pages in all, do
duty in the Enquiry for the whole of Bk. I, part iv of the
Treatise, where ninety-four pages are devoted to the same
tonics.
xii INTRODUCTION.
This wholesale omission and insertion cannot well be
due to philosophical discontent with the positions or argu-
ments, or to a general desire to fill up a gap in the system,
but must be ascribed rather to a general desire, to make
the Enquiry readable. Parts ii and iv are certainly the
hardest in the Treatise, and the least generally interesting
to the habitues of coffee-houses, especially at a period when
'the greatest part of men have agreed to convert reading
into an amusement ; ' whereas a lively and sceptical discus-
sion of miracles and providence could hardly fail to find
readers, attract attention, and excite that 'murmur among
the zealots ' by which the author desired to be distinguished.
Taking the two works rather more in detail, we find
these notable differences : —
6 Psychology. Even in the Treatise we feel that the
introductory psychology is rather meagre and short to serve
as a foundation for so large a system, but in the Enquiry it
is still more cut down.
Thus the Enquiry omits the distinction between simple
and complex ideas; between impressions of sensation
and reflexion, which is of importance afterwards for the
explanation of the idea of necessary connexion; between
ideas of memory and imagination : in the treatment of
association little is said about causation as a principle of
association, and the account of the products of association,
the three classes of complex ideas, relations, modes and
substances, and abstract ideas, disappears.
Thus the list of philosophic relations and the distinction
between philosophic and natural relation are omitted, and
do not appear at all in the Enquiry. The question of
abstraction is only alluded to incidentally near the end of
the Enquiry (§§ 122 and 125 n). Substance is passed
INTRODUCTION. xiii
over, as it is also in § xii of the Enquiry, probably both
from the difficulty of the subject, and because in the
Enquiry. Hume is not nearly so anxious to show that
the fundamental popular conceptions are fictitious. There
is something solid to which the popular conception of
causation can be reduced, but when substance and body
are analyzed, as they are in the Treatise, the importance
of the materials out of which they are said to be formed
is out of all proportion to the place which the finished
products occupy in thought and language.
The slight treatment of association again is quite cha-
racteristic of the temper of the Enquiry. The details of
psychical mechanism, which are rather tiresomely paraded
in the Treatise, are consistently passed over in the Enquiry,
notably so in the case of sympathy.
7 Space and Time. It must be admitted that the subject
of space and time, as treated in the Treatise, is not very
attractive. There is nothing in the Enquiry correspcMiding
to the forty-two pages of the Treatise, in which space and
time are treated, except two pages in § xii.
Of the philosophical importance of Hume's treatment
of them in the Treatise it is unnecessary to speak; it is
apparent from the large amount of criticism which Professor
Green thought fit to bestow on it. It is to be noted, how-
ever, that the account of causation which Hume gives after-
wards in the Enquiry, is left hanging in the air when the
support of the theory of succession has been withdrawn.
The omission of the section on the ideas of existence and
external existence is, like the omission of the various
accounts of substance, only a part of Hume's avoidance of
the general question of the relation of knowledge and reality.
8 Causation. In the account of causation Hume passes
xiv INTRODUCTION.
over the very interesting and fundamental question raised
in the Treatise of the position of cause in the fabric of
our knowledge. On p. 78 of the Treatise (Bk. I, iii, § y,
cf. p. 157), he asks why a cause is always necessary, and
concludes that there is no reason for the presumption that
everything must have a cause. This conclusion he sup-
ports by his analysis of the idea of a particular cause, and
asserts again (p. 172) that there is 'no absolute meta-
physical necessity ' that one object should have another
associated with it in such a way that its idea shall deter-
mine the mind to form the idea of the other. This
conclusion is of the gravest importance for Hume's theory
of causation in general, and is difficult to reconcile with
his negation of the reality of chance and his assumption of
secret causes (Treatise, pp. 130, 132). His failure in the
Enquiry to take the opportunity of treating this question
over again is significant of the lower philosophic standard
of the later work, especially as he does take the opportunity
to add a good deal to his previous discussion of the origin
of the idea of power (Enquiry, §§ 51-3, 60 n; cf. Treatise,
p. 632, Appendix). In the same spirit the distinction
between essential and accidental circumstances, and the
question of the employment of general rules (Treatise,
pp. 145 f, i73f), subjects of great speculative as well as
practical interest, are ignored in the Enquiry.
8 A good deal of psychological detail is omitted in the
Enquiry. Thus §§ v, ix, x and xiii of Bk. I, part iii, of the
Treatise are omitted bodily, partly no doubt to shorten
the discussion, and partly on Hume's new principle of
not trying to penetrate beneath the obvious explanations
of phenomena. He adds, however, a detailed discussion
(Enquiry, §§ 51-3) of the possibility of deriving the idea of
INTRODUCTION. XV
power from an internal impression, such as the feeling of
initiative or effort accompanying a bodily or mental move-
ment. These sections would appear to be occasioned by
contemporary discussions, and are excellently expressed.
On the same footing stands the discussion of the theory of
occasional causes, which is very well done in §§ 54-7 of the
Enquiry (cf. Treatise, p. 171). The omission of the prac-
tical § XV of the Treatise, on the rules by which to judge of
causes and effects, appears rather strange, unless we regard
it as raising a difficult general question which Hume has
already shown his anxiety to avoid in his omission of § iii.
With regard to the account of the origin, in particular cases,
of the idea of cause and effect, there is little difference
between the Treatise and Enquiry, except that in the
Enquiry ' contiguity ' practically drops out altogether. A
good deal was said about contiguity in § ix of the Treatise,
which disappears in • the Enquiry ; and again in the final
definitions of cause given in § xiv, pp. 170-172 of the
Treatise, contiguity appears on the same level as resem-
blance, whereas in the definitions given in the Enquiry,
§ 60, no mention is riiade of it at all.
LO A comparison of the definitions given on pp. 170-2 of
the Treatise and § 60 of the Enquiry, shows that in the
Enquiry the distinction between causation as a philo-
sophical and a natural relation is altogether dropped. In
the Treatise this distinction is very hard to follow, and there
is little doubt that the sacrifice of it in the Enquiry is
deliberate. In the Enquiry Hume asserts more clearly
than in the Treatise (though with some of the old incon-
sistencies) that there is nothing at the bottom of causation
except a mental habit of transition or expectation, or, in
other words, a ' natural relation.' Thus the omission of the
xvi introduction:
chapter on the rules by which to judge of cause and effect
and the sacrifice of contiguity are both part of the same
policy : succession cannot be got rid of altogether, and this,
it is true, is a philosophical relation (Treatise, p. 14), but it
is one which is a matter of perception rather than reasoning
(Treatise, p. 73), and is not one which raises much dis-
cussion — we 'seldom have much difficulty in discovering
whether A or B came first, and you cannot strictly say that
B was more consequent on A than C was, or vice versa.
But men of science are very curious about contiguity, and
the examination of it as a philosophical relation would often
run counter to the connexions established by contiguity as
a natural relation. Contiguity therefore drops out of the
Enquiry as a philosophical relation, though it must be
supposed to exert its influence as a natural relation (cf.
Treatise, p. 92).
Hesemblance was not treated in the Treatise as a philo-
sophical relation, in connexion with causation, but rather
as a natural relation, i. e. not as a relation between A
and B which men of science would take into consideration,
but as the relation between a^ b\ '2? b", a' b', &c., which
was the foundation of the unconscious habit of proceeding
to assert a* b* or A B. This position is still more clearly
given to resemblance in the Enquiry, where Hume asserts
roundly that one instance is as good philosophically (or
as we should say, 'scientifically') as a thousand (cf Enquiry,
§ 31). The only effect of resemblance or repetition is to
produce a habit.
Philosophical relations are those which a man of science
perceives or establishes when he consciously compares one
object with another. Natural relations are those which
unconsciously join one idea to another in his mind. In
INTRODUCTION. xvii
the case of causation, therefore, a philosophical relation
must be between A and B, a' and b*, s^ and b": natural
relation must be between one particular case of A B and
another, e. g. between a' b* and a" b", a' b', &c. The philo-
sophical relation of causation is what a man of science sees
in one case of A B taken by itself, and that is nothing but
succession and contiguity. Hume feeling the difficulty
of . maintaining plylosophical relations at all, wisely says
nothing in the Enquiry about their difference from natural
relations, and says as little as possible about those elements
of causation which he cannot spare, and which in the
Treatise appeared as philosophical relations. The distinc-
tion in the Treatise is indeed most bewildering, but, with its
disappearance in the Enquiry, the relation of causation
becomes more completely subjective, and it becomes even
more hard than in the Treatise to see how there can be any
difference between real' and apparent causes, or any roon^Jgr
concealed causes. On the other hand, it may be said that,
so long as natural was opposed to philosophical relation,
there was still possible an invidious contrast between the
subjectivity of the one and the objectivity of the other, while
in the Enquiry some credit is restored to causation, because
nothing is said about its seven philosophical rivals. Both
in the Enquiry and Treatise the operations of resemblance,
contiguity and succession, are described in language which
is far from precise and clear, and which justifies many of
the lively strictures passed on the association theory by
Mr. Bradley in his Principles of Logic; but it is certainly
easier to grasp Hume's meaning in the Enquiry than in '
the Treatise, and a comparison of the passages containing
the definitions is decidedly instructive.
11 It will be noted that in the Enquiry, § 60, Hume interjects
xviii INTRODUCTION,
a curious little explanation of his first definition : 'We may
define a cause to be an object followed by another, and
•when all the objects similar to the first are followed by
objects similar to the second, or, in other words, where if
ihe first object had not been, the second never had existed.^
The words in italics can hardly be regarded as a paraphrase
or equivalent of the main definition, and must be added to
the rather large collection of unassimilated dicta which so
much occupied Professor Green.
12 Liberty and necessity. — Hume has certainly effected an
improvement in the Enquiry by bringing this subject into
closer connexion with his theory of causation. In the
Treatise he deals with it under the general heading of the
♦will and direct passions,' and with an interval of more
than 200 pages from the main treatment of cause. The
only important difterences between the two discussions of
the freedom of the will are («) the omission in the Enquiry
of the preliminary definition of the will (Treatise, p. 399),
(3) the insertion in the Enquiry of the definition of ' liberty,'
§ 73, (f) the more emphatic assertion in the Enquiry that
the whole dispute is one of words, and that all men have really
been always agreed on the matter. (Cf. Enquiry, §§ 62-3, 71,
73, and Treatise, pp. 399, 407, 409.) (d) The development
of the religious aspect of the question. Enquiry, §§ 76-81.
To this nothing corresponds in the Treatise, and like the
following sections in the Enquiry it may be ascribed to
Hume's ambition to disturb ' the zealots ' at all costs.
The discussion has been carefully re-written in the
Enquiry, many of the illustrations used are different and
more elegant, and the whole section in the Enquiry is an
excellent instance of the general improvement in style and
construction which appears in the later work.
INTRO'DVCTJON, xix
' Miracles, providence, and a future state, §§ x and xi of
the Enquiry, in which these subjects are treated, belong to
Hume's appHed philosophy, and, important and interesting
as they are in themselves, they do not add anything to his
general speculative position. Their insertion in the Enquiry
is due doubtless rather to other considerations than to
a simple desire to illustrate or draw corollaries from the
philosophical principles laid down in the original work.
13 Knowledge and reality, § 1 2 of the Enquiry very inade-
quately represents the whole of Book I, part iv of the
Treatise, occupying as it does only seventeen pages as against
ninety-four in the earlier work. In details the correspon-
dence is necessarily very irhperfect.
Brevity is, it is true, legitimately attained in some cases by
compression. Thus the rather rambling general discussions
of Scepticism in the Treatise contained in § i and § vii (some
eighteen pages) are fairly represented by § 1 1 6 and §§126-132
of the Enquiry (some nine pages). So also there is not '
much reason to complain of the abbreviation to one page
of the criticism of the distinction between primary and
secondary qualities (Treatise, § iv, pp. 225-231 ; Enquiry,
§ 122, pp. 154-5), this part of the Treatise being undeniably
cumbrous. Two pages more iii the Enquiry are occupied
with an illustration of the absurdity of the abstract
sciences, drawn from their doctrine of infinite divisibility,
this having originally appeared in Book I, p. ii, § ii of the
Treatise.
This leaves only §§ 11 7-1 21 and 123 of the Enquiry
(about four pages) to do duty for the whole of §§ ii, iii, v, vi
of the Treatise (some sixty-nine pages).
In. the Enquiry Hume merely confines himself to assert-?
ing the opposition between the vulgar belief, based on
b2
XX . INTRODUCTION.
iilstinct and natural propensity, in external objects on
the one side, and the conclusions of philosophy, that we
know nothing but perceptions in the mind, on the other
side. He does not attempt any further investigation
beyond rejecting an appeal to the veracity of God which
was not mentioned in the Treatise (Enquiry, § 120), but
simply falls back on the position that sceptical arguments,
if they admit of no answer, at all events produce no con-
viction. Perhaps the most interesting part of the whole
Treatise is that in which Hume tried to explain (§ ii,
pp. 187-218) our belief in the existence of body, which
he reduced to the continued and distinct existence of per-
ceptions, by the influence of their constancy and coherence
on our imagination. This is entirely dropped in the
Enquiry, together with the account of our idea of substance
(Treatise, § iii, 'Of the antient philosophy'), and of our idea of
mind (Treatise, § vi, ' Of personal identity '). A considerable
part of the discussion on the immateriality of the soul
(Treatise, § v), may appear to us antiquated, just as it may
fairly have appeared to Hume too dry for a popular work,
and not absolutely necessary to his system. But it is not too
much to say on the whole, that the omissions in § 12 of
the Enquiry are alone amply sufiScient to render it quite im-
possible to comply with Hume's wish and treat the Enquiry
as representing the whole of his philosophic system.
14 The Dissertation on the Passions, first published in
1757. together with the Natural History of Religion and two
essays on tragedy and taste, and printed in the edition of
1777 between the two Enquiries, is not reprinted in this
volume.
It consists largely, as Mr. Grose says, of verbatim extracts
. INTRODUCTION. xxi
from Bk. II of the Treatise, with some trifling verbal
alterations.
As it stands, the Dissertation is a very uninteresting and
unsatisfactory work. The portion of Bk. II of the Treatise
which was perhaps of most general interest, namely the
discussion of Liberty and Necessity, had been previously
transferred to the Enquiry into Human Understanding, and
so was no longer available for the Dissertation. But the
Dissertation suffers, not only by this transference of matter,
but also by omissions of other really important matters.
(i) In the Treatise an elaborate account was given of
pride and humility, love and hatred, and an attempt was
made to explain the mechanism of the passions, by the
relation of impressions and ideas, which was at all events
a serious essay towards something less superficial than the
prevalent psychology. Its bearing on Hume's general system
is, it is true, not very great and not at all clear, and it is
easy to understand how, as a matter of literary policy, it was
omitted by Hume. But in connexion with other omissions
it has a decided philosophical significance.
(2) The psychology of sympathy, which occupies so much
space in Bk. II, and on which so much depends in Bk. Ill
of the Treatise, is almost entirely ignored in the Enquiry.
How it is possible to find room for sympathy in so atomistic
or individualistic a psychology as Hume's, is one of the
most interesting questions which are raised by his system.
How I can not only .know but enter into the feelings of
another person, when I can only know my own feelings, is
indeed a problem worthy of grave consideration. When
we come to consider the treatment of sympathy in the
Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals by the side of
its treatment in the Treatise, we shall see reason to think
xxii INTRODUCTION.
that Hume has very considerably modified his views, not
only as to the functions of sympathy, but also as to the
proper limits of psychological analysis.
(3) The discussion in the Treatise, Bk. II, § iii, of the
telation of passion to reason is of great importance for the
subsequent question of the source of moral distinctions, as
also are the distinction between calm and violent passions
and the identification of reascMi with the former ; but the
Dissertation is contented with the barest mention of them.
In general,, we may say that, whereas Bk. II of the
Treatise was not only valuable as an independent essay in
psychology, and interesting from its wealth of observation
and illustration, but also important from its preliminary
treatment of questions which were going to be of vital
importance in Bk. Ill, the Dissertation is neither interesting
in itself nor of any assistance for the interpretation or
criticism of the Enquiry concerning the Principles of
Morals. The extent of its correspondence with Bk. II of
the Treatise is shown in the accompanying comparative
Table of Contents.
15 Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals.
Hume has recorded his own opinion that the Enquiry
concerning the Principles of Morals was, of all his writings,
' historical, philosophical, or literary, incomparably the best.'
It was first published in 1751, the corresponding book in
the Treatise having been published in 1 740. Hume himself
considered that the failure of the Treatise ' had proceeded ,
more from the manner than the matter,' and in this Enquiry
it is evident that he has given the greatest attention to the
style, and with such success as to justify Mr. Grose's estimat^
of him as ' the one master of philosophic English.' \j
INTRODUCTION. xxiii
It is far less easy to compare the matter of this Enquiry
with that of Bk. Ill of the Treatise, because the earlier work
has, in this case, been really re-written. The comparative
Table of Contents will show in a graphic form the difficulty
of making out a correspondence between them. The
arrangement is largely different. The omissions are not
in this case so important as the additions, and there is
a great change in the proportions and emphasis with which
various subjects are treated. There is also, the writer
ventures to believe, a very remarkable change of tone or
temper, which, even more than particular statements, leads
him to suppose that the system of Morals in the Enquiry
is really and essentially different from that in the Treatise.
16 In the Treatise nothing is more clear than his intention
to reduce the various principles of human nature, which
appear distinct to ordinary men, to some more general and
underlying principle, and indeed his philosophy differed from
that of the moral sense school, represented by Hutchespn,
in precisely that particular. In other words, he attempted
a philosophical explanation of human nature, and was not
content to accept the ordinary distinctions of ' faculties '
and ' senses ' as final. Thus the temper of the Treatise is
well expressed by his emphatic declaration (Bk. Ill, part iii,
§ i> P- 578)> tbat it is 'an inviolable maxim in philosophy,
that where any particular cause is sufficient for an effect,
I we ought to rest satisfied with it, and ought not to multiply
causes without necessity'; and again (Bk. II, part i, § iii,
I p. 282), ' we find in the course of nature that though the
effects be many, the principles from which they arise are
. commonly but few and simple, and that it is the sign of an
unskilful naturalist to have recourse to a different quality
in order to explain every different operation. How much
xxiv INTRODUCTION.
more must this be true with regard to the human mind?'
(Cf. also Treatise, Bk. Ill, part iii, § ii, p. 473.)
With these passages we may compare, observing the
caution inculcated at the beginning of this Introduction,
§ 250 of the Enquiry, where speaking of self-love, he says,
' The obvious appearance of things . . . must be admitted
till some hypothesis be discovered which, by penetrating
deeper into human nature, may prove the former affec-
tions to be nothing but modifications of the latter. All
attempts of this kind have hitherto proved fruitless, and
seem to have proceeded entirely from that love of simplicity
which has been the source of so much false reasoning in philo-
sophy.^ (Cf. § 9, 'Philosophers have sometimes carried
the matter too far by their passion for some one general
principle.')
Without laying undue stress on these express statements
(which go for less in Hume than in most authors), we can
hardly help feeling that Hume is approximating to the
position of Hutchescn, as expressed in his Preface to the
Essay on the Nature and Conduct of the Passions (p. ix,
ed. 3, Lond. 1742) : 'Some strange love of simplicity in the
structure of human nature . . . has engaged many writers to
pass over a great many simple Perceptions which we may
find in ourselves : . . . had they . .' . considered our affections
without a previous notion that they were all from self-love,
they might have felt an ultimate desire of the happiness of
others as easily conceivable and as certainly implanted in
the human breast, though perhaps not so strong as self-
love.' (Cf. ib. p. xiv : ' This difficulty probably arises from
our previous notions of a small number of senses, so that
we are unwilling to have recourse in our theories to any
more; and rather strain out some explication of Moral
INTRODUCTION, xxv
Ideas, with relation to some of the natural Powers of Per-
ception universally acknowledged.')
17 This change of attitude is, I think, seen in several
points, some of which have been already pointed out in
dealing with the Dissertation on the Passions, and which
are here only distinguished for convenience of reference.
Benevolence. In the Treatise there are passages, it is
true, which seem to admit an original unaccountable in-
stinct of benevolence (Treatise, Bk. II, part iii, § iii, p. 417;
ib. § ix, p. 439 ; Bk. II, part ii, § vi, p. 368 ; cf. Bk. Ill, part ii,
§ i, p. 478). There are also passages which sternly limit
its extent and influence. Thus he says (Treatise, Bk. Ill,
part ii, § i, p. 481), ' In general it may be affirmed that
there is no such passion in human minds as the love of
mankind merely as such, independent of personal qualities,
of services, or of relation to oneself. It is true there is
no human and indeed no sensible creature whose happiness
does not, in some measure, affect us, when brought near to
us and represented in lively colours. But this proceeds
merely from sympathy, and is no proof of such an universal
affection to mankind, since this concern extends itself
beyond our own species.' (Cf. Bk. Ill, part ii, § ii, p. 496.)
With this we may compare the Enquiry, § 184, where he
speaks of 'our natural philanthropy'; § 135, 'a feeling for
the happiness of mankind and a resentment of their
[ misery'; § 252, 'these and a thousand other instances
1 are marks of a general benevolence in human nature.'
■ (Cf. §i78«; §2So«.)
I The fact that in the Enquiry Hume inserts a section
on Benevolence (§ 2) before the treatment of Justice is
' in itself significant. In the Treatise benevolence is treated
1 among the natural virtues and vices (Treatise, Bk. Ill, part iii,
xxvi INTRODUCTION.
§ iii, p. 602) immediately before ' natural abilities.' In the
Enquiry it is treated as the chief of the social virtues,
and though a main object of its treatment is to show its
'utility,' its independence is fully recognized.
18 But the impression produced by the comparison of such
passages as the above is very much strengthened when we
consider the functions and position of Sympathy in the
Treatise and Enquiry respectively. It has been already
noticed that in the Dissertation on the Passions sympathy
was almost ignored, though it was perhaps the most im-
portant subject of Bk. II of the Treatise.
Speaking broadly, we may say that in the Treatise
nothing more is clear than that sympathy is used as
a solvent to reduce complex feelings to simpler elements.
In the Enquiry sympathy is another name for social feeling,
humanity, benevolence, natural philanthropy, rather than
the name of the process by which the social feeling has
been constructed out of non-social or individual feeling
(§§ 180, 182, 186, 199, 203, 210, 221-3). Hume may have
felt that the machinery assigned to sympathy in Bk. II of the
Treatise did not work very well, and so have decided to get
rid of it, but in so doing he may be said to have abandoned
perhaps the most distinctive feature of his moral system as
expounded in the Treatise, so that in the Enquiry there
is little to distinguish his theory from the ordinary moral-
sense theory, except perhaps a more destructive use of
' utihty.' In the Treatise his difference from the moral-
sense school lay precisely in his attempt to resolve social
feeling into a simple sensitivity to pleasure and pain, which
has become complicated and transformed by sympathy. In
reading Hutcheson we feel that he makes out a good case
for his ' benevolence ' against Hobbes and Mandeville and
1NTR0DUCTI0S\ xxvii
the more insidious selfishness of Shaftesbury, but that it
would fall an easy prey to the 'sympathy' of Hume's
Treatise.
19 Self-love is much more fully and fairly dealt with by
Hume in the Enquiry than in the Treatise. He had
declined, even in the Treatise, with excellent good sense,
to accept the popular reduction of benevolence as given
by the selfish school, but he certainly tried to reduce
benevolence to something which was neither selfish nor
unselfish, but rather physical.
In the Enquiry (Bk. V, §§ 173-8, and App. ii, §§ 247-254)
he carries the war into the enemy's camp, and introduces
the conception of self-love which we find in' Hutcheson's
later works, and especially in Butler. Section 253 is
especially remarkable, insisting as it does on the necessity
of appetites antecedent to self-love. The germ of the same
thought is perhaps to be found in an obscure passage in the
Treatise (Bk. Ill, part ii, § i, p. 478), though it is used for
a significantly different purpose.
Benevolence is suggested in the Enquiry as the primary,
and self-love as the secondary passion, and the suggestion is
supported by the appeal to accept ' the simplest and most
obvious cause which can be assigned ' for any passion or
operation of the human mind.
It is true that he makes even freer use of Utility in
the Enquiry than in the Treatise, and that it would be
easy to draw consequences from this principle which would
neutralize the concessions made to benevolence, but he is
content himself to leave it without developement, and to say
in effect that utility pleases simply because it does please.
20 His tenderness towards benevolence is also seen in his
treatment oi Justice. In the Treatise he insisted vigorously,
xxviii INTRODUCTION.
though not very intelligibly, that justice was not a natural
but only an artificial virtue, and it is pretty plain that he
meant to be offensive in doing so. His argument in the
Treatise was, to say the least, awkward, and he may have
been glad to get rid of an ungainly and unnecessary dis-
cussion. In the Enquiry he dismisses the question in a few
words as a vain one (§ 258), and contents himself with
J pointing out the superior sociality of justice as compared
with benevolence (§§ 255-6).
21 Reason. He devotes much less space in the Enquiry
to proving that moral distinctions are not derived from
reason, than to showing that they are derived from a senti-
ment of humanity. He is more tolerant to the claims of
reason, and shows some approach to the indifference of
Butler. 'These arguments on each side are so plausible
that I am apt to suspect they may, the one as well as the
other, be solid and satisfactory, and that reason and senti-
ment concur in almost all moral determinations and con-
clusions' (§ 137). In the same place he gives reason an
important function in the correction of our sentiments of
moral and natural beauty, a point which is of great impor-
tance in the moral philosophy of that time, and indeed was
not ignored in the Treatise. Similarly in^ the Treatise he
laid some stress on the identity of what was usually called
' reason ' with the calm passions (Bk. II, part iii, § iii, p. 417 j
ib. § viii, p. 437), whereas he only mentions it incidentally in
the Enquiry in connexion with strength of mind (§ 196).
22 The old diiificulty about *■ general rules ^ 'the general
and unalterable point of view,' re-appears in the Enquiry,
though I think it is dealt with in a manner quite foreign to
the Treatise. In the Treatise the universality of our moral
judgements and their detachment from private interest was
INTRODUCTION. xxix
accounted for by sympathy (Treatise, Bk. Ill, part ii, § ii,
p. 500 ; Bk. Ill, part iii, § i, p. 577 ; § vi, p. 618). But sym-
pathy itself varies with time, place and person, and con-
sequently requires correction, which is supplied by the use of
general rules (Bk. Ill, part iii, § i, pp. 581-5), How these
corrective rules are obtained he does not explain in the
Treatise, and indeed they seem to work in a circle with
sympathy. In the Enquiry they again appear, and are in the
first place ascribed to the 'intercourse of sentiments in
society and conversation ' (§ 186), arising apparently in the
same way as 'general ideas,' which are really only particular
ideas with their particularity rubbed off by wear and tear.
But in §§ 221-2 of the Enquiry he asserts the universality of
moral judgements in quite a new style. 'The notion of
morals implies some sentiment common to all mankind
which recommends the same object to general approbation
and makes every man, or most men, agree in the same opinion
or decision concerning it. It also implies some sentiment,
so universal and comprehensive as to extend to all man-
kind, and render the actions and conduct even of persons
the most remote, an object of applause and censure. . . .
These two requisites belong alone to the sentiment of
Humanity.' This sentiment is the only ' universal principle
of the human frame,' and ' can alone be the foundation of
morals or of any general system of blame or praise.' ' One
man's ambition is not another's ambition, nor will the same
event or object satisfy both : but the humanity of one man
is the humanity of every one, and the same object touches
the passion in all human creatures.' This may not be the
'moral sense,' but it certainly is not the doctrine of the
Treatise.
23 There does not seem to be any trace in the Enquiry of
XXX INTRODUCTION,
the appeal to the ' natural and usual force of the passions,'
as the standard of morals, of which considerable use is made
in the Treatise, and which has been considered to brand
Hume's moral system as one of sheer respectabihty (Treatise,
Bk. Ill, part ii, § i, pp. 483-4 5 § », P- 488 ; § v, p. 518 ; § vi,
P- 532)-
24 The interest of Hume's philosophical writings must not be
judged by the dryness of the foregoing discussion of them.
The question of the relation of the two versions with which
Hume himself has endowed and puzzled us, appears of
sufficient general interest to warrant a serious examination.
But such questions cannot be decided by general impres-
sions, and this Introduction aims at supplying, or rather
indicating, the material for a more exact determination of
Hume's relations to himself, than has been previously
attempted. The writer has also had the temerity to relieve
the rather mechanical toil of tabulating differences and
correspondences by attempts to distinguish the purely
philosophical from the non-philosophical and personal
considerations which influenced a philosopher who was
often both more and less than a philosopher. How much
in the matter and manner of Hume's work is due to
peculiarities of his character is hard to say, but the per-
sonal element continually challenges, even if it eludes, our
appreciation.
The Introduction undoubtedly supposes that the reader
has some acquaintance with the Treatise, and may serve
as a guide to those students who wish to see for themselves
what Hume's last word on philosophy was. The present
Edition also is intended rather as a recognition of that wish
than as a concession to those who would substitute the
Enquiries for the Treatise as the authoritative exposition of .
INTRODUCTION. xxxi
Hume's system. It would be a considerable misfortune
for our native philosophy if the Treatise were left unread.
But the Treatise is hard, and many of us are weak, and it is
better to read Hume in the Enquiries than not to read him
at all. By those who begin on the Enquiries the Intro-
duction may be read, as it were, backwards, and it may,
perhaps, serve to point out the road to a fuller knowledge
of a philosopher, who, at his greatest, is vpry great indeed.
Oxford, Nov. 1893.
Comparative Tables of the Contents of the Treatise and of
the Enquiries and Dissertation on the Passions.
TABLE I.
Comparison of the Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding
(according to the marginal sections of the present edition), with Book I
of the Treatise on Human Nature {according to the pages ofthi
Clarendon Press edition, Oxford, 1888 and 1896).
Enquiry.
Section.
Page.
Treatise.
§ i. Of the different
l-IO
xvii-xxiii
Introduction.
species of philoso-
phy.
Part i. Of ideas, their
origin, composition, con-
nexion, abstraction, tfc,
pp. 1-25.
§ ii. Of the origin of
11-20
1-7
§ i. Of the origin of our
ideas.
ideas.
7,8
§ ii. Division of the subject.
8-10
§ iii. Of the ideas of the
memory and imagina-
tion.
{ iii. Of the associa-
18-19
10-13
§ iv. Of the connexion or
tion of ideas.
association of ideas.
13-15
§ V. Of relations.
15-17
§ vi. Of modes and sub-
stances.
122-125
17-26
§ vii. Of abstract ideas.
n.
Part ii. Of the ideas of
space and time,pp.s6-€i&.
26-28
§ i. Of the infinite divisi-
bility of our ideas of
space and time.
(124-5)
29-33
§ ii. Of the infinite divisi-
bility of space and time.
33-39
§ iii. Of the other qualities
of our ideas of space and
time.
39-53
S iv. Objections answered.
XXXIV
COMPARATIVE TABLES.
Enquiry.
Section.
Page.
Treatise.
53-65
§ V. The same subject con-
tinued.
66-68
§ vi. Of the idea of ex-
istence and of external
existence.
§ iv. Sceptical doubts
Part Hi. Of knowledge and
concerning the
probability, pp. 69-179.
operations of the
understanding.
Part i, 30-27.
i69-73
173-78
§ i. Of knowledge.
20—27
§ ii. Of probability, and of
the idea of cause and
effect.
Part ii, 28-33.
(5o«-.
78-82
§ iii. Why a cause is always
74«-'>
necessary.
37, 38
83-84
§ iv. Of the component
parts of our reasonings
concerning cause and
effect.
84-86
1 V. Of the impressions of
the senses and memory.
§ V. Sceptical solu-
28-36
86-94
§ vi. Of the inference from
tion of these doubts.
the impression to the
Part i, 34-38.
idea.
Part ii, 39-45.
39j4o
94-98
§ vii. Of the nature of the
idea of belief.
41-44
98-106
§ viii. Of the causes of
belief.
45
(179^
106-117
§ ix. Of the effects of
other relations and other
habits. (Contiguity and
resemblance.)
I 18-123
§ X. Of the influence of
belief.
$ vi. Of probability.
46
124-130
§ xi. Of the probability of
chances.
47
130-142
§ xii. Of the probability
of causes.
143-155
§ xiii. Of unphilosophical
probability.
§ vii. Of the idea of
48-61
155-172
§ xiv. Of the idea of neces-
necessary con-
sary connexion.
nexion.
Part i, 48-57.
(Mathematical and
48
moral science.)
TABLE I.
■sixxv
Enquiry.
Section.
Page.
Treatise.
49, 50
157
50 «•
(72-82)
(Feeling of power
51-53I
(6o«.)r
(63a)
in ourselves — over
limbs; over mind.)
(First cause ; occa-
159. 160
(171)
sional causes.)
54-57
Part ii, 58-61.
58
162
59
163
' (Definition of cause.)
60
170-172
173-176
§ XV. Rules by which to
judge of causes and
effects.
[Book II. Of the passions.
Part Hi. Of the will and
direct passions.
Cl§ i, 2. Of liberty and
J necessity.
§ 3. Of the influencing
\ ' motives of the will.]
§ viii. Of liberty and
necessity.
62-81
399-418
62,63^
(399)
(407409
64'
399.400
65
401, 402
66
403
67,68
403, 404
69
404, 405
70
406
71,72
407
72 «.
408
73
74.75
409
76.77
410, 411
78,81
(249)
§ ix. Of the reason of
82-85
176-179
§ xvi. Of the reason of
animals.
animals.
§ X. Of miracles.
86-101
Part i, 86-91.
Part ii, 92-101.
§ xi. Of a particular
102-115
providence and of a
future state.
1 xii. Of the acade-
I 16-132
180-274
Part iv. Of the sceptical
mical or sceptical
and other systems of
philosophy.
philosophy.
Part i, 116-123.
116
180-187
§ i. Of scepticism with
regard to reason.
C 2
XXXVl
COMPARATIVE TABLES.
Enquiry.
Section.
Page.
Treatise.
117-133
187-218
§ ii. Of scepticism with
regard to the senses.
(Body, and continued
and distinct existence of
perceptions ; constancy
and coherence.)
219-225
§ iii. Of the antient philo-
sophy. (Substance and
quality.)
122
225-231
§ iv. Of the modem philo-
sophy. (Primary and
secondary qualities.)
Part ii, 124-129.
(
(Book I,
(Space and time.) '
124, 125 j
part ii,
§2.)
232-251
§ V. Of the immateriality
of the soul. (Existence
and perception.)
251-263
§ vi. Of personal identity.
Part iii, 129-132.
126-132
263-274
§ vii. Conclusion of this
book.
TABLE II.
Comparison of Book II of the Treatise on Human Nature {according
to the pages of the Clarendon Press edition), uiith the Dissertation
on the Passions {according to the pages of the collected
edition ofiTjq, London, vol. ii).
Treatise
Dissertation
page.
page.
Treatise, Book II. ' Of the Passions,' pp. a^ 5-
454-
Part i. Of Pride and Humility, pp. 275-328.
§ i. Division of the subject.
§ii. Of Pride and Humility : their objects
and causes.
275-277
277-279
§ iii. Whence their objects and causes are
derived.
280-282
§ iv. Of the relations of impressions and
ideas.
282-384
184-186
TABLE II.
xxxvu
§ V. Of the influence of these relations on
pride and humility.
§ vi. Limitations of this system.
§ vii. Of vice and virtue.
§ viii. Of beauty and deformity,
§ ix. Of external advantages and disadvan-
tages.
§ X. Of property and riches.
§ xi. Of the love of fame.
I xii. Of the pride and humility of animals.
Part it. Of Love and Haired, pp. 329-398.
§ i. Of the objects and causes of love and
hatred.
§ ii. Experiments to confirm this system.
$ iii. Difficulties solved.
§ iv. Of the love of relations.
§ v. Of our esteem forthe rich and powerful.
§ vi. Of benevolence and anger.
\ vii. Of compassion.
§ viii. Of malice and envy.
i ix. Of the mixture of benevolence and
anger with compassion and malice.
§ X. Of respect and contempt.
5 xi. Of the amorous passions, or of love
between the sexes.
S xii. Of the love and hatred of animals.
Part in. Of the will and direct passions,
pp. 399-454-
§ i. Of liberty and necessity.
§ ii. The same subject continued.
§ iii. Of the influencing motives of the will.
§ iv. Of the causes of the violent passions.
§ V. Of the effects of custom.
$ vi. Of the influence of imagination on the
passions.
§ vii. Of contiguity and distance in space
and time.
§ viii. The same subject continued.
§ ix. Of the direct passions.
f X. Of curiosity, or the love of truth.
Treatise
page.
285-390
291-294
294-298
298-303
303-309
309-316
316-324
324-328
329-333
333-347
347-351
351-357
357-366
366-368
368-371
37a
381-389
389-393
394-396
397. 398
399-407I
407-412J
413-418
418-422
422-424
424-427
427-432
432-438
438-448
448-454
Dissertation
page.
195-198
187-188
;i89,
1196, 197
190-193
i93> 194
194, 195
(202, 203)
199
aoo
(200)
(aoo)
(aoo)
(aoi)
t (Enquiry
concern-
ingHuman
Under-
standing,
, § viii.)
206, 207
207-210
aio, 211
an
(ai2)
177-183
XXXVIU
COMPARATIVE TABLES.
TABLE III.
Comparison of the Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals mth
Book Illoftlu TreatUe on Human Nature.
Enquiry.
Section.
Page.
Treatise.
An Enquiry concern-
133-299
455-621
Book III. Of morals.
ing the principles of
morals.
Part i. Of virtue and vice
in general, pp. 455-476.
§ i. Of the gene-
133-38]
1 455-470
§ i. Moral distinctions not
ral principles of
derived from reason.
morals.
(470-476
§ ii. Moral distinction de-
Appendix i. Concern-
234-46/
rived from amoral sense.
ingmoralsentiment.
136
457
236, 837
I 6-468
1 (458
238
463
239
(475
240
241
459
242
243
466,467
244. 245
246
(465^
§ ii. Of benevolence.
139-144
(602-6)
§ iii. Of justice.
145-63]
Part i, 145-153
Part ii. 154-163.
477-573
Part ii. Of justice and in-
Appendix iii. Some
255-60)
justice.
further considera-
tions with regard to
justice.
258
477-484
§ i. Justice whether a
natural or artificial
virtue.
(253''
477-480
(254. 1
cf. 235);
480-483
255
(481,82)
484-501
§ ii. Of the origin of
justice and property.
145-149!
484-489
495. 496
150, 151
493
TABLE in.
XXXIX
Enquiry.
iv. Of political
society.
§ V. Why utility
pleases.
Pait i, zi^-XT].
Part ii, i7S-igo.
Section.
Page.
152
153
(493)
256
J 497.
Icf. 532
174
498
257
490
173
500
154-163
501-513
259,is6o
5H 516
(257) {
516-525
(cf. 490)
526-534
(160-62)
528, 529
256
532
164-17 I
534-539
539-549
164 :
549-553
553-567
165
567-569
166-168
570-573
172-190
574-591
173-190
577-591
173
500,578
174
498-501
257
579
185, 186
580-583
175
581,583
176
177
178-181
575
182
585
Treatise.
§ iii. Of the rules which
determine property.
§ iv. Of the transference
of property by consent.
§ V. Of the obligation of
promises.
§ vi. Some further reflec-
tions concerning justice
and injustice.
origin
of
§ vii. Of the
government.
§ viii. Of the sources of
allegiance.
§ ix. Of the measures of
allegiance.
§ X. Of the objects of
allegiance.
§xi. Oftheiawsof nations.
§ xii. Of chastity and mo-
desty.
Part iii. Of the other
Virtues and Vices, pp.
574-621.
§ i. Of the origin of the
natural virtues and
vices.
xl
COMPARATIVE TABLES.
Enquiry.
Section.
Page.
Treatise.
182, 183
576,577
184
18s
580-584
185 «.
584.58s
186
581, 603
187-190
Appendix ii. Of self-
247-254
love.
§ vi. Of qualities use-
191-202
ful to ourselves.
Part i, 191-199.
Part ii, 200-202.
198
610, 612
S vii. Of qualities im-
203-210
592-606
§ ii. Of greatness of mind.
mediate y agreeable
to ourselves.
203
592,611
204
599
205
600
207
604
208
§ viii. Of qualities im-
(139-44)
602-606
§ iii. Of goodness and
mediately agreeable
211-216
benevolence.
to others.
606-614
§ iv. Of natural abilities.
212
611
211,2131
2I4i
596, 597
215,216
611,612
(617)
Appendix iv. Of some
261-267
606-610
verbal disputes.
261-264
606,607
265
607, 608
266
609
267
608,609
268
609
$ ix. Conclusion.
317-233
Part i, 317-227.
614-617
§ V. Some further reflec-
tions concerning the
natural virtues. '
*
(317-19)
514,615
S18-621
§ vi. Conclusion of this
book.
320-227
618
Part 11, 228-233.
228-233 <
319-621
ESSAYS
AND
T R E A T I S E «
'; N
SEVERAL SUBJECTS.
By DAVID HUME, Efq;
VOL. II.
CONTAINING
An ENQUIRY concerning HUMAN
UNDERSTANDING;
A DISSERTATION on the PASSIONS;
An ENQUIRY concerning the PRINCIPLEf
of MORALS;
AND
The NATURAL HISTORY of RELIGION.
A NEW EDITION.
LONDON:
Printed for T. C AD ELL, in the Strand : and
A. Donaldson, and W. Creech, at Edinburgh.
MDCCLXXVIL
ADVERTISEMENT
Most of the principles, and reasonings, contained in this
volume, were published in a work in three volumes, called
A Treatise of Human Nature: A work which the Author
had projected before he left College, and which he wrote and
published not long after. But not finding if successful, he
was sensible of his error in going to the press too early, and
he cast the whole anew in the following pieces, where some
negligences in his former reasoning and more in the expres-
sion, are, he hopes, corrected. Vet several writers, who have
honoured the Author's Philosophy with answers, have taken
care to direct all their batteries against that juvenile work,
which the Author never acknowledged, and have affected to
triumph in any advantages, which, they imagined, they had
obtained over it: A practice very contrary to alt rules of
candour and fair-dealing, and a strong instance of those
polemical artifices, which a bigot ted zeal thinks itself authorized
to employ. Henceforth, the Author desires, that the following
Pieces may alone be regarded as containing his philosophical
sentiments and principles.
THE
CONTENTS
AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING HUMAN
UNDERSTANDING.
4ect. pac
I. • Of the different Species of Philosophy ....
II. Of the Origin of Ideas l
III. Of the Association of Ideas 2
IV. Sceptical Doubts concerning, the Operations of the Under-
standing 2
V. Sceptical Solution of these Doubts 4
VI. Of Probability 51
^^JOf the Idea of necessary Connexion &
VIII. Of Liberty and Necessity ^
IX. Of the Reason of Animals 10.
X. Of Miracles 101
XI. Of a particular Providence and of a future State . .13:
XII. Of the academical or sceptical Philosophy . . •14;
I
AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING THE PRINCIPLES
OF MORALS.
Jt_i: Of the general Principles of Morals i6<
IE Of Benevolence^ . V i7(
j^lS Of Justice 18;
Of political Society 201
B 2
4 CONTENTS.
-^V. Why Utility pleases . . . .■ . . . • 2'2
VI. Of Qualities useful to Ourselves 233
VII. tof Qualities immediately agreeable to Ourselves . .250
VIII. bf Qualities immediately agreeable to Others . . .261
/'IX. Conclusion .....•••• 268
APPENDIX,
^ Concerning Moral Sentiment 285
'Of Self-love 295
|in\ Some farther Considerations with regard to Justice . . 303
-—IV. Of some verbal Disputes 312
A DIALOGUE 324
Additional Note to Page 125 344
INDEX 347
' AN ENQUIRY
CONCERNING
HUMAN UNDERSTANDING
SECTION I.
OF THE DIFFERENT SPECIES OF PHILOSOPHY.
1 Moral philosophy, or the science of human nature, may
be treated after two different manners ; each of which has
its pecuhar merit, and may contribute to the entertainment,
instruction, and reformation of mankind. The one con-
siders man chiefly as born for action ; and as influenced in
his measures by taste and sentiment ; pursuing one object,
and avoiding another, according to the value which these
objects seem to possess, and according to the light in
which they present themselves. As virtue, of all objects,
is allowed to be the most valuable, this species of philo-
sophers paint her in the most amiable colours ; borrowing
all helps from poetry and eloquence, and treating their
subject in an easy and obvious manner, and such as is
best fitted to please the imagination, and engage the
affections. They select the most striking observations and
instances from common life; place opposite characters in
a proper contrast ; and alluring us into the paths of virtue
by the views of glory and happiness, direct our steps in
6 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. I.
these paths by the soundest precepts and most illustrious
examples. They make us feel the difference between vice
and virtue ; they excite and regulate our sentiments ; and
so they can but bend our hearts to the love of probity and
true honour, they think, that they have fully attained the
• end of all their labours.
2 The other species of philosophers consider man in the
light of a reasonable rather than an active being, and
endeavour to form his understanding more than cultivate
his manners. They regard human nature as a subject of
speculation; and with a narrow scrutiny examine it, in
order to find those principles, which regulate our under-
standing, excite our sentiments, and make us approve or
blame any particular object, action, or behaviour. They
think it a reproach to all literature, that philosophy should
not yet have fixed, beyond controversy, the foundation of
morals, reasoning, and criticism ; and should for ever talk
of truth and falsehood, vice and virtue, beauty and de-
formity, without being able to determine the source of
these distinctions. While they attempt this arduous task,
they are deterred by no difficulties; but proceeding from
particular instances to general principles, they still push on
their enquiries to principles more general, and rest not
satisfied till they arrive at those original principles, by
which, in every science, all human curiosity must be
bounded. Though their speculations seem abstract, and
even unintelligible to common readers, they aim at the
approbation of the learned and the wise ; and think them-
selves sufficiently compensated for the labour of their whole
lives, if they can discover some hidden truths, which may
contribute to the instruction of posterity.
3 It is certain that the easy and obvious philosophy will
always, with the generality of mankind, have the preference
above the accurate and abstruse; and by many will be
recommended, not only as more agreeable, but more useful
s
Sect. I.l HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 7
than the other. It enters more into common life ; moulds
the heart and affections ; and, by touching those principles
which actuate men, reforms their conduct, and brings them
nearer to that model of perfection which it describes. On
the contrary, the abstruse philosophy, being founded on a
turn of mind, which cannot enter into business and action,
vanishes when the philosopher leaves the shade, and comes
into open day; nor can its principles easily retain any
influence over our conduct and behaviour. The feelings of
our heart, the agitation of our passions, the vehemence of
our affections, dissipate all its conclusions, and reduce the
profound philosopher to a mere plebeian.
4 This also must be confessed, that the most durable,
as well as justest fame, has been acquired by the easy
philosophy, and that abstract reasoners seem hitherto to
have enjoyed only a momentary reputation, from the caprice
or ignorance of their own age, but have not been able
to support their renown with more equitable posterity. It
is easy for a profound philosopher to commit a mistake
in his subtile reasonings ; and one mistake is the necessary
parent of another, while he pushes on his consequences,
and is not deterred from embracing any conclusion, by
its unusual appearance, or its contradiction to popular
opinion. But a philosopher, who purposes only to represent
the common sense of mankind in more beautiful and more
engaging colours, if by accident he falls into error, goes no
farther ; but renewing his appeal to common sense, and the
natural sentiments of the mind, returns into the right path,
and secures himself from any dangerous illusions. The
fame of Cicero flourishes at present; but that of Aristotle
is utterly decayed. La Bruyere passes the seas, and still
maintains his reputation : But the glory of Malebranche
is confined to his own nation, and to his own age. And
Addison, perhaps, will be read with pleasure, when Locke
shall be entirely forgotten.
8 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. I.
The mere philosopher is a character, which' is commonly
but little acceptable in the world, as being supposed to
contribute nothing either to the advantage or pleasure
of society ; while he lives remote from communication with
mankind, and is wrapped up in principles and notions
equally remote from their comprehension. , On the other
hand, the mere ignorant is still more despised ; nor is any
thing deemed a surer sign of an illiberal genius in an age
md nation where the sciences flourish, than to be entirely
destitute of all relish for those noble entertainments. The
most perfect character is supposed to lie between those
sxtremes ; retaining an equal ability and taste for books,
company, and business; preserving in conversation that
discernment and delicacy which arise from polite letters ;
ind in business, that probity and accuracy which are
the natural result of a just philosophy. In order to diffuse
ind cultivate so accomplished a character, nothing can be
more useful than compositions of the easy style and manner,
which draw not too much from life, require no deep appli-
:ation or retreat to be comprehended, and send back the
student among mankind full of noble sentiments and wise
precepts, applicable to every exigence of human life. By
means of such compositions, virtue becomes amiable,
science agreeable, company instructive, and retirement
entertaining.
Man is a reasonable being ; and as such, receives from
science his proper food and nourishment : But so narrow
ire the bounds of human understanding, that little satisfac-
;ion can be hoped for in this particular, either from the
extent of security or his acquisitions. Man is a sociable, no
ess than a reasonable being : But neither can he always
5njoy company agreeable and amusing, or preserve the
Droper relish for them. Man is also an active being ; and
Tom that disposition, as well as from the various necessities
3f human life, must submit to business and occupation :
Sect. I.J HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 9
But the mind requires some relaxation, and cannot always
support its bent to care and industry. It seems, then, that
nature has pointed out a mixed kind of life as most suitable
to the human race, and secretly admonished them to allow
none of these biasses to draw too much, so as to incapacitate
them for other occupations and entertainments. Indulge
your passion for science, says she, but let your science be
human, and such as may have a direct reference to action
and society. Abstruse thought and profound researches I
prohibit, and will severely punish, by the pensive melancholy
which they introduce, by the endless uncertainty in which
they involve you, and by the cold reception which your
pretended discoveries shall meet with, when communicated.
Be a philosopher ; but, amidst all your philosophy, be still
a man.
5 Were the generality of mankind contented to prefer the
easy philosophy to the abstract and profound, without
throwing any blame or contempt on the latter, it might
not be improper, perhaps, to comply with this general
opinion, and allow every man to enjoy, without opposition,
his own taste and sentiment. But as the matter is often
carried farther, even to the absolute rejecting of all profound
reasonings, or what is commonly called metaphysics, we shall
now proceed to consider what can reasonably be pleaded
ih their behalf.
We may begin with observing, that one considerable
advantage, which results from the accurate and abstract
philosophy, is, its subserviency to the easy and humane ;
which, without the former, can never attain a sufficient
degree of exactness in its sentiments, precepts, or reasonings.
All polite letters are nothing but pictures of human life
in various attitudes and situations ; and inspire us with
different sentiments, of praise or blame, admiration or ridi-
cule, according to the qualities of the object, which they set
before us. An artist must be better qualified to succeed in
10 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING (Sect. I.
this undertaking, who, besides a delicate taste and a quick
apprehension, possesses an accurate knowledge of the
internal fabric, the operations of the understanding, the
ivorkings of the passions, and the various species of senti-
ment which discriminate vice and virtue. How painful
soever this inward search or enquiry may appear, it becomes,
in some measure, requisite to those, who would describe
ivith success the obvious and outward appearances of life
ind manners. The anatomist presents to the eye the most
tiideous and disagreeable objects ; but his science is useful
;o the painter in delineating even a Venus or an Helen.
IVhile the latter employs all the richest colours of his art,
ind gives his figures the most graceful and engaging airs ;
ae must still carry his attention to the inward structure
jf the human body, the position of the muscles, the fabric
Df the bones, and the use and figure of every part or organ.
A.ccuracy is, in every case, advantageous to beauty, and just
reasoning to delicate sentiment. In vain would we exalt
;he one by depreciating the other.
Besides, we may observe, in every art or profession, even
:hose which most concern life or action, that a spirit of
iccuracy, however acquired, carries all of them nearer their
perfection, and renders them more subservient to the
interests of society. And though a philosopher may live
remote from business, the genius of philosophy, if careful^
:ultivated by several, must gradually diffuse itself throughout
:he whole society, and bestow a similar correctness on
jvery art and calling. The politician will acquire greater
"oresight and subtility, in the subdividing and balancing
Df power J the lawyer more method and finer principles
in his reasonings ; and the general more regularity in his
iiscipline, and more caution in his plans and operations.
The stability of modern governments above the ancient,
ind the accuracy of modern philosophy, have improved, and
probably will still improve, by similar gradations.
Sect. I.] HUMAN- UNDERSTANDING, 1 1
Q Were there no advantage to be reaped from these studies,
beyond the gratification of an innocent curiosity, yet ought
not even this to be despised ; as being one accession to
those few safe and harmless pleasures, which are bestowed
on human race. The sweetest and most inoffensive path of
life leads through the avenues of science and learning ; and
whoever can either remove any obstructions in this way,
or open up any new prospect, ought so far to be esteemed
a benefactor to mankind. And though these researches
may appear painful and fatiguing, it is with some minds
as with some bodies, which being endowed with vigorous
and florid health, require severe exercise, and reap a pleasure
from what, to the generality of mankind, may seem burden-
some and laborious. Obscurity, indeed, is painful to the
mind as well as to the eye; but to bring light from
obscurity, by whatever labour, must needs be delightful and
rejoicing.
But this obscurity in the profound and abstract philosophy,
is objected to, not only as painful and fatiguing, but as the
inevitable source of uncertainty and error. Here indeed
lies the justest and most plausible objection against a
considerable part of metaphysics, that they are not properly
a science; but arise either from the fruitless efforts of
human vanity, which would penetrate into subjects utterly
inaccessible to the understanding, or from the craft of popular
superstitions, which, being unable to defend themselves on
fair ground, raise these intangling brambles to cover and
protect their weakness. Chaced from the open country, these
robbers fly into the forest, and lie in wait to break in upon
every unguarded avenue of the mind, and overwhelm it
with religious fears and prejudices. The stoutest antagonist,
if he remit his watch a moment, is oppressed. And many,
through cowardice and folly, open the gates to the enemies,
and willingly receive them with reverence and submission,
as their legal sovereigns.
12 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. I.
But is this a sufificient reason, why philosophers should
desist from such researches, and leave superstition still
in possession of her retreat? Is it not proper to draw
an opposite conclusion, and perceive the necessity of
carrying the war into the most secret recesses of the enemy ?
In vain do we hope, that men, from frequent disappoint-
ment, will at last abandon such airy sciences, and discover
the proper province of human reason. For, besides, that
many persons find too sensible an intetest in perpetually
recalling such topics; besides this, I say, the motive of
blind despair can never reasonably have place in the
sciences ; since, however unsuccessful former attempts
may have proved, there is still room to hope, that the
industry, good fortune, or improved sagacity of succeeding
generations may reach discoveries unknown to former ages.
Each adventurous genius will still leap at the arduous prize,
and find himself stimulated, rather that discouraged, by the
failures of his predecessors ; while he hopes that the glory
of achieving so hard an adventure is reserved for him alone.
The only method of freeing learning, at once, from these
abstruse questions, is to enquire seriously into the nature of
human understanding, and show, from an exact analysis of
its powers and capacity, that it is by no means fitted for
such remote and abstruse subjects. We must submit to
this fatigue, in order to live at ease ever after : And must
cultivate true metaphysics with some care, in order to
destroy the false and adulterate. Indolence, which, to some
persons, affords a safeguard against this deceitful philo-
sophy, is, with others, overbalanced by curiosity; and despair,
which, at some moments, prevails, may give place after-
wards to sanguine hopes and expectations. Accurate and
just reasoning is the only catholic remedy, fitted for all
persons and all dispositions ; and is alone able to subvert
that abstruse philosophy and metaphysical jargon, which,
being mixed up with popular superstition, renders it in
Sect, I. J HUMAN UNDERSTANDING, 13
a manner impenetrable to careless reasoners, and gives it
the air of science and wisdom.
8 Besides this advantage of rejecting, after deliberate
enquiry, the most uncertain and disagreeable part of learning,
there are many positive advantages, which result from an
accurate scrutiny into the powers and faculties of human
nature. It is remarkable concerning the operations of the
mind, that, though most intimately present to us, yet,
whenever they become the object of reflexion, they seem
involved in obscurity j nor can the eye readily find those
lines and boundaries, which discriminate and distinguish
them. The objects are too fine to remain long in the same
aspect or situation j and must be apprehended in an
instant, by a superior penetration, derived from nature, and
improved by habit and reflexion. It becomes, therefore,
no inconsiderable part of science barely to know the different
operations of the mind, to separate them from each other, to
class them under their proper heads, and to correct all that
seeming disorder, in which they lie involved, when made
the object of reflexion and enquiry. This talk of ordering
and distinguishing, which has no merit, when performed
with regard to external bodies, the objects of our senses,
rises in its value, when directed towards the operations
of the mind, in proportion to the difficulty and labour,
which we meet with in performing it. And if we can go no
farther than this mental geography, or delineation" of the
distinct parts and powers of the mind, it is at least a satis-
faction to go so far ; and the more obvious this science
may appear (and it is by no means obvious) the more con-
temptible still must the ignorance of it be esteemed^ in all
pretenders to learning and philosophy.
Nor can there remain any suspicion, that this science
is uncertain and chimerical; unless we should entertain
such a scepticism as is entirely subversive of all speculation,
and even action. It cannot be doubted, that the mind
14 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING (Sect. I.
is endowed with several powers and faculties, that these
powers are distinct from each other, that what is really
distinct to the immediate perception may be distinguished
by reflexion ; and consequently, that there is a truth and
falsehood in all propositions on this subject, and a truth
and falsehood, which lie not beyond the compass of human
understanding. There are many obvious distinctions of
this kind, such as those between the will and understanding,
the imagination and passions, which fall within the com-
prehension of every human creature ; and the finer and
more philosophical distinctions are no less real and certain,
though more difficult to be comprehended. Some instances,
especially late ones, of success in these enquiries, may give
us a juster notion of the certainty and solidity of this branch
of learning. And shall we esteem it worthy the labotir of
a philosopher to give us a true system of the planets, and
adjust the position and order of those remote bodies;
while we affect to overlook those, who, with so much'
success, delineate the parts of the mind, in which we are so
intimately concerned ?
/But may we not hope, that philosophy, if cultivated with
ycare, and encouraged by the attention of the public, may
Scarry its researches still farther, and discover, at least in
some degree, the secret springs and principles, by which the
Jiuma n mind is actuated in its operations? Astronomers
had long contented themselves with proving, from the
phaenomena, the true motions, order, and magnitude of
the heavenly bodies : Till a philosopher, at last, arose,
who seems, from the happiest reasoning, to have also deter-
mined the laws and forces, by which the revolutions of the
planets are governed and directed. The like has been
performed with regard to other parts of nature. And there
is no reason to despair of equal success in our enquiries
concerning the mental powers and economy, if prosecuted
with equal capacity and caution. It is probable, that one
Sect.l.J HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. ig
operation and principle of the mind depends on another ;
which, again, may be resolved into one more general and
universal: And how far these researches may possibly
be carried, it will be difficult for us, before, or even after,
a careful trial, exactly to determine. This is certain, that
attempts of this kind are every day made even by those
who philosophize the most negligently: And nothing can
be more requisite than to enter upon the enterprize with
thorough care and attention; that, if it lie within the
compass of human understanding, it may at last be happily
achieved ; if not, it may, however, be rejected with some
confidence and security. This last conclusion, surely, is not
desirable ; nor ought it to be embraced too rashly. For how
much must we diminish from the beauty and value of this
species of philosophy, upon such a supposition ? Moralists
have hitherto been accustomed, when they considered the
vast multitude and diversity of those actions that excite
our approbation or dislike, to search for some common
principle, on which this variety of sentiments might depend.
And though they have sometimes carried the matter too far,
by their passion for some one general principle ; it must,
however, be confessed, that they are excusable in expecting
to find some general principles, into which all the vices
and virtues were justly to be resolved. The like has been
the endeavour of critics, logicians, and even politicians :
Nor have their attempts been wholly unsuccessful ; though
perhaps longer time, greater accuracy, and more ardent
application may bring these sciences still nearer their per-
fection. To throw up at once all pretensions of this kind
may justly be deemed more rash, precipitate, and dogmatical,
than even the boldest and most affirmative philosophy, that
has ever attempted to impose its crude dictates and prin-
ciples on mankind.
10 What though these reasonings concerning human nature
seem abstract, and of difficult comprehension ? This affords
l6 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING.
no presumption of their falsehood. On the contrary,
seems impossible, that what has hitherto escaped so ma
wise and profound philosophers can be very obvious ai
easy. And whatever pains these researches may cost us, ^
may think ourselves sufficiently rewarded, not only in poi
of profit but of pleasure, if, by that means, we can ma
any addition to our stock of knowledge, in subjects
such unspeakable importance.
But as, after all, the abstractedness of these speculatio
is no recommendation, but rather a disadvantage to thei
and as this difficulty may perhaps be surmounted by ca
and art, and the avoiding of all unnecessary detail, we hai
in the following enquiry, attempted to throw some lig
upon subjects, from which uncertainty has hitherto deterr
the wise, and obscurity the ignorant. Happy, if we c
unite the boundaries of the different species of philosopt
by reconciling profound enquiry with clearness, and tru
with novelty ! And still more happy, if, reasoning in tl
easy manner, we can undermine the foundations of ;
abstruse philosophy, which seems to have hitherto serv
only as a shelter to superstition, and a cover to absurdi
and error !
SECTION II.
OF THE ORIGIN OF IDEAS.
U Every one will readily allow, that there is a considerable
difference 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
almost say we feel or see it : But, except the mind be
disordered by 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 sentiments and
c
l8 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING
affections, our thought is a faithful mirror, and co]
objects truly; but the colours which it employs ai
and dull, in comparison of those in which our origir
ceptions were clothed. It requires no nice discernn
metaphysical head to mark the distinction between tl
12 Here therefore we may divide all the perceptions
mind into two classes or species, which are disting
by their different degrees of force and vivacity. T.
forcible and lively are commonly denominated Thou
Ideas. The other species want a name in our lai
and in most others ; I suppose, because it was not k
for any, but philosophical purposes, to rank them
a general term or appellation. Let us, therefore, use
freedom, and call them Impressions ; employing tha
in a sense somewhat different from the usual. By tl
impression, then, I mean all our more lively perc€
when we hear, or see, or feel, or love, or hate, or
or will. And impressions are distinguished from
which are the less lively perceptions, of which ■
conscious, when we reflect on any of those sensati
movements above mentioned.
13 Nothing, at first view, may seem more unbounde
the thought of man, which not only escapes all
power and authority, but is not even restrained witl
limits of nature and reality. To form monsters, ai
incongruous shapes and appearances, costs the imag
no more trouble than to conceive the most natui
familiar objects. And while the body is confined
planet, along which it creeps with pain and difficul
thought can in an instant transport us into the most
regions of the universe ; or even beyond the univen
the unbounded chaos, where nature is supposed tc
total confusion. What never was seen, or heard (
yet be conceived; nor is any thing beyond the pc
thought, except what implies an absolute contradictic
Sect. II.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 19
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 4iKis>
?ative power of the mind amounts to no more than
^he faculty of compounding, transposing, augmenting, or
iiminishing the materials afforded us by the senses a^d^
bxgerience. When we think of a golden mountain, we
only join two consistent ideas, gold, and 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 figure 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 com-
position of these belongs alone to the mind and will. Or,
to express myself in philosophical language, jillj^ir iflp^fr— r-
mor e feeble perceptions arp rnni ps nf p^i r impressions o r
niBreJisely ones.
14 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 themselves 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 is copied from a similar
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.
c 2
20 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sec
It will then be incumbent on us, if we would maintain
doctrine, to produce the impression, or lively percept
which corresponds to it.
15 Secondly. If it happen, from a defect of the orj
that a man is not susceptible of any species of sensat
we always find that he is as little susceptible of the
respondent ideas. A blind man can form no notion
colours ; a deaf man of sounds. Restore either of tl
that sense in which he is deficient; by opening this i
inlet for his sensations, you also open an inlet for the idi
and he finds no difficulty in conceiving these objects. '
case is the same, if the object, proper for exciting
sensation, has never been applied to the organ. A I
lander or Negro has no notion of the relish of w
And though there are few or no instances of a
deficiency in the mind, where a person has never fell
is wholly incapable of a sentiment or passion that belt
to his species; yet we find the same observation to t
place in a less degree. A man of mild manners can f
no idea of inveterate revenge or cruelty ; nor can a sel
heart easily conceive the heights of friendship and generoi
It is readily allowed, that other beings may possess m
senses of which we can have no conception ; because
ideas of them have never been introduced to us in
only manner by which an idea can have access to the m
to wit, by the actual feeling and sensation.
16 There is, however, one contradictory phenomenon, wl
may prove that it is not absolutely impossible for ic
to arise, independent of their correspondent impressii
I believe it will readily be allowed, that the several dist
ideas of colour, which enter by the eye, or those of soi
which are conveyed by the ear, are really different f
each other; though, at the same time, resembling. 1
if this be true of different colours, it must be no less s
the different shades of the same colour ; and each sh
Sect. II.], HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 2 1
produces a distinct idea, independent of the rest. For if
this should be denied, it is possible, by the continual
gradation 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, deny
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 distance 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 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
correspondent 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.
17 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 metaphysical reasonings, and drawn disgrace
upon them. All ideas, especially 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
22 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING.
term, though without a distinct meaning, we are apt
imagine it has a determinate idea annexed to it. On
contrary, all impressions, that is, all sensations, eil
outward or inward, are strong and vivid: the lii
between them are more exactly determined : nor is it <
to fall into any error or mistake with regard to them. W
we entertain, therefore, any suspicion that a philosoph
term is employed without any meaning or idea (as is
too frequent), we need but enquire, from what impres
J is that supposed idea derived 1 And if it be impossibL
I assign any, this will serve to confirm our suspicion.
; bringing ideas into so clear a light we may reasonably h
to remove all dispute, which may arise, concerning i
i nature and reality \
' It is probable that no more was meaot by those, who denied in
ideas, than that all ideas were copies of our impressions ; thon^
mnst be confessed, that the terms, which they employed, were
chosen with such caution, nor so exactly defined, as to prevent
mistakes about their doctrine. For what is meant by innate^
innate be equivalent to natural, then all the perceptions and ideas o:
mind must be allowed to be innate or natural, in whatever sense
take the latter word, whether in opposition to what is uncomi
artificial, or miraculous. If by innate be meant, contemporary to
birth, the dispute seems to be frivolous ; nor is it worth while to ent
at what time thinking begins, whether before, at, or after our b
Again, the word idea, seems to be commonly taken in a very 1
sense, by LoCKE and others ; as standing for any of our percept
our sensations and passions, as well as thoughts. Now in this s(
I should desire to know, what can be meant by asserting, that self-1
or resentment of injuries, or the passion between the sexes is not inn
But admitting these terms, impressions and ideas, in the sense al
explained, and understanding by innate, what is original or copied I
no precedent perception, then may we assert that all our impress
are innate, and our ideas not innate.
To be ingenuous, I must own it to be my opinion, that Locke
betrayed into this question by the schoolmen, who, making nsi
undefined terms, draw out their disputes to a tedious length, wit
ever touching the point in question. A like ambiguity and circuml
tion seem to run through that philosopher's reasonings on this as
as most other subjects.
SECTION III.
OF THK ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS.
18 It is evident that there is a principle of connexion
between the different thoughts or ideas of the mind, and
that, in their appearance 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 particular 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 altogether at adventures, but that there was still
a connexion upheld among the different ideas, which
succeeded each other. Were the loosest and freest con-
versation 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
correspond to each other : a certain proof that the simple
ideas, comprehended in the compound ones, were bound
together by some universal principle, which had an equal
influence on all mankind.
24 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING.
19 Though it be too obvious to escape observation, 1
different ideas are connected together; I do not find 1
any philosopher has attempted to enumerate or class
the principles of association; a subject, however, 1
seems worthy of curiosity. To me, there appear to
only three principles of connexion among ideas, nam
j Resemblance, Contiguity in time or place, and Cause
\ Effect.
That these principles serve to connect ideas will i
I believe, be much doubted. A picture naturally k
our thoughts to the original ^ : the mention of one ap
ment in a building naturally introduces an enquiry
discourse concerning the others': and if we think
a wound, we can scarcely forbear reflecting on the i
which follows it '. But that this enumeration is compl
and that there are no other principles of association ex(
these, may be difficult to prove to the satisfaction of
reader, or even to a man's own satisfaction. All we can
in such cases, is to run over several instances, and exan
carefully the principle which binds the different thouj
to each other, never stopping till we render the principl
general as possible '- The more instances we examine,
the more care we employ, the more assurance shall
\ acquire, that the enumeration, which we form from
whole, is complete and entire.
• Resemblance. ' Contignity. ' Caase and effe
• For instance, Contrast or Contrariety is also a connexion at
Ideas : but it may, perhaps, be considered as a mixture of Caust
and Resemblance. Where two objects are contrary, the one destroy
other ; that is, the caase of its annihilation, and the idea of the anni
tion of an. object, implies the idea of its former existence.
SECTION IV.
SCEPTICAL DOUBTS CONCERNING THE OPERATIONS OF
THE UNDERSTANDING.
Part I.
20 All the objects of human reason or enquiry may naturally
be divided into two kinds, to wit, Relations of Ideas, and
Matters of Fact. Of the first kind are the sciences of
Geometry, Algebra, and Arithmetic; and in short, every
aflSrmation which is either intuitively or demonstratively
certain. That the square of the hypothenuse is equal to the
square of the two sides, is a proposition which expresses
a relation between these figures. That three times five is
equal to the half of thirty, expresses a relation between 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.
21 Matters of fact, which are the second objects of human
reason, 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 dis-
tinctness, as if ever so conformable to reality. That the
26 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. IV, Ps
sun will not rise to-morrow is no less intelligible a ]
position, and implies no more contradiction than
affirmation, that it will rise. We should in vain, therefi
attempt to demonstrate its falsehood. Were it dem
stratively false, it would imply a contradiction, and co
never be distinctly conceived by the mind.
It may, therefore, be a subject worthy of curiosity,
enquire what is the nature of that evidence which assi
us of any real existence and matter of fact, beyond
present testimony of our senses, or the records of
memory. This part of philosophy, it is observable,
been little cultivated, either by the ancients or moder
and therefore our doubts and errors, in the prosecutioi
so important an enquiry, may be the more excusal
while we march through such difficult paths without
guide or direction. They may even prove useful, by exci)
curiosity, and destroying that implicit faith and secui
which is the bane of all reasoning and free enquiry. '
discovery of defects in the common philosophy, if any s
there be, will not, I presume, be a discouragement,
rather an incitement, as is usual, to attempt sometli
more full and satisfactory than has yet been proposed
the public.
22 All reasonings concerning matter of fact seem to
founded on the relation of Cause and Effect. By mean:
l^ that relation alone we can go beyond the evidence of
memory and senses. If you were to ask a man, why
believes any matter of fact, which is absent ; for instar
that his friend is in the country, or in France ; he wo
give you a reason ; and this reason would be some ot
fact ; as a letter received from him, or the knowledge of
former resolutions and promises. A man finding a wa
or any other machine in a desert island, would concli
that there had once been men in that island. All
reasonings concerning fact are of the same nature, i
Sect IV, Part I.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 27
here it is constantly supposed that there is a connexion
between 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 connected
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.
23 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 \
admits of no exception, that the knowledge of this relation ,
is not, in any instance, attained by reasonings a priori; but 1'
arises entirely from experience, when we find that any /
particular objects are constantly conjoined with each other.
Let an object be presented 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 have 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. f No objec t e ver discoygrs, \rj
qualities which appear to the senses, either the causes which
produced it, or the effects which will arise from it ; nor can
our reason, unassisted by experience, ever draw any inference
concerning real existence and matter of fact.
28 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. I
24 Thip prnp"Tifjff'^, *^if -/»«M f and effects are disim
not by reason but b y e xperience^ will readily be admitte
regard to such objects, as we remember to have one
altogether unknown to us ; since we must be conscioui
utter inability, which we then lay under, of foretellin
would arise from them. Present two smooth pie
marble to a man who has no tincture of natural philo:
he will never discover that they will adhere toget
such a manner as to require great force to separate tl
a direct line, while they make so small a resista:
a lateral pressure. Such events, as bear little anal
the common course of nature, are also readily coi
to be known only by experience ; nor does any man ii
that the explosion of gunpowder, or the attraction of
stone, could ever be discovered by arguments a prioi
like manner, when an effect is supposed to depend u]
intricate machinery or secret structure of parts, we mi
difficulty in attributing all our knowledge of it to expe
Who will assert that he can give the ultimate reaso
milk or bread is proper nourishment for a man, e
a lion or a tiger ?
But the same truth may not appear, at first sight, t
the same evidence with regard to events, which have b
familiar to us from our first appearance in the world,
bear a close analogy to the whole course of nature, and
are supposed to depend on the simple qualities of o
without any secret structure of parts. We are apt to ii
that we could discover these effects by the mere opera
our reason, without experience. We fancy, that wi
brought on a sudden into this world, we could at firs
inferred that one Billiard-ball would communicate i
to another upon impulse ; and that we needed not t
waited for the event, in order to pronounce with ce
concerning it. Such is the infliience of custom, that,
it' is strongest, it not only covers our natural ignorant
Sect. IV. Part I.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. "29
even conceals itself, and seems not to take place, merely
because it is found in the highest degree.
25 But to convince us that all the laws of nature, and all
the operations of bodies without exception, are known only
by experience, the following reflections may, perhaps, suffice.
Were 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 discovered
in it. Motion in the second Billiard-ball is a quite distinct
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, immediately falls : but to consider the matter
a priori, is there anything 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 con-
sult not experience ; 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
30 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. IV, P
first ball return in a straight line, or leap off from the sec
in any line or direction? All these suppositions are i
sistent and conceivable. Why then should we give
preference to one, which is no more consistent or conceiv
than the rest ? All our reasonings a priori will neve:
able to show us any foundation for this preference.
In a word, then, every effect is a distinct event froir
cause. It could not, therefore, be discovered in the ca
and the first invention or conception of it, a priori, mus
entirely arbitrary. And even after it is suggested, the (
junction of it with the cause must appear equally arbitr
since there are always many other effects, which, to rea
must seem fully as consistent and natural. In vain, th
fore, should we pretend to determine any single event
infer any cause or effect, without the assistance of obse
tion and experience.
26 Hence we may discover the reason why no philosop
who is rational and modest, has ever pretended to as
the ultimate cause of any natural operation, or to s
distinctly the action of that power, which produces
single effect in the universe. It is confessed, that the utr
effort of human reason is to reduce the principles, pro(
tive of natural phenomena, to a greater simplicity, an(
resolve the many particular effects into a few general cat
by means of reasonings from analogy, experience,
observation. But as to the causes of these general car
we should in vain attempt their discovery ; nor shall
ever be able to satisfy ourselves, by any particular explica
of them. These ultimate springs and principles are tol
shut up from human curiosity and enquiry. Elastic
gravity, cohesion of parts, communication of motion
impulse ; these are probably the ultimate causes and j
ciples which we shall ever discover in nature ; and we i
esteem ourselves sufficiently happy, if, by accurate enq
and reasoning, we can trace up the particular phenon:
Sect. IV. Part M HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 31
to, or near to, these general principles. The most perfect
philosophy of the natural kind only staves off our ignorance
a little longer : as perhaps the most perfect 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.
27 Nor is geometry, when taken into the assistance of natural
philosophy, ever 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 mathematics proceeds upon the supposition that
pertain laws are estabhshed by natur^ in her operations ;
and abstract reasonings are employed, either to assist ex-
perience in the discovery of these 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 compound ratio or
proportion of its solid contents and its velocity ; and conse-'
quently, 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 dimen-
sions of all the parts and figures which can enter into any
species of machine jCbut still the discovery of the law itself
is owing merely to experienc^ and all the abstract reasonings
in the world could never lead us one step towards the know-
ledge of it. When we reason apriori, 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 connexion between them.
A man must be very sagacious who could discover by
32 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. IV, Par
reasoning that crystal is the effect of heat, and ice of cc
without being previously acquainted with the operation
these qualities.
Part II.
28 But we have not yet attained any tolerable satisfact
with regard to the question first proposed. Each solut
still gives rise to a new question as difficult as the foregoi
and leads us on to farther enquiries. When it is ask
What is the nature of all our reasonings concerning matte)
fact ? the proper answer seems to be, that they are foun(
on the relation of cause and effect. When again it is ask
What is the foundation of all our reasonings and conclusi
concerning that relation I it may be replied in one wc
Experience. But if we still carry on our sifting humour, i
ask. What is the foundation of all conclusions from experien
this implies a new question, which may be of more diffi(
solution and explication. Philosophers, that give themsel
airs of superior wisdom and sufficiency, have a hard t
when they encounter persons of inquisitive dispositions, v
push them from every corner to which they retreat, and t
are sure at last to bring them to some dangerous dilemi
The best expedient to prevent this confusion, is to be moc
in our pretensions ; and even to discover the difficulty c
selves before it is objected to us. By this means, we e
make a kind of merit of our very ignorance.
I shall content myself, in this section, with an easy tJ
and shall pretend only to give a negative answer to
question here proposed. I say then, that, even after
have experience of the operations of cause and effect, >
conclusions from that experience are not founded on reas
ing, or any process of the understanding. This answer
must endeavour both to explain and to defend.
29 It must certainly be allowed, that nature has kept
at a great distance from all her secrets, and has afforc
Sect. IV, Part II.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 33
US only the knowledge of a few superficial qualities of ob-
jects ; while she conceals from us those powers and prin-
ciples on which the influence of those objects entirely
depends. 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 nourish-
ment and support of a human body. Sight or feeling con-
veys 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 -presuiiie, 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 like colour and con-
sistence with that bread, which we have formerly eat, be
presented to us, we make no scruple of repeating the
experiment, and foresee, with certainty, like nourishment
and support. Now this is a process of the mind or thought,
of which I would willingly know the foundation. It is
allowed on all hands that there is no known connexion
between the sensible quahties and the secret powers ; and
consequently, that the mind is not led to form such a con-
clusion concerning their constant and regular conjunction,
by anything which it knows of their nature. As to past
Experience, it can be allowed to give direct and certain
information 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
' The word, Power, is here used in a loose and popular sense. The
more accurate explication of it would give additional evidence to this
argument. See Sect. 7,
D
34 ^N ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. IV, P
appearance similar; this is the main question on w
I would insist. The bread, which I formerly eat, nouri
me ; that is, a body of such sensible qualities was, at
time, endued with such secret powers : but does it fo
that other bread must also nourish me at another time,
that like sensible qualities must always be attended
like secret powers ? The consequence seems nowise n
sary. At least, it must be acknowledged that there is
a consequence drawn by the mind ; that there is a ce
step taken ; a process of thought, and an inference, -v
wants to be explained^^These two propositions ar
from being the same,// have found that such an objec
always been attended mth such an effect, and I foresee
other objects, which are, in appearance, similar^^wi
attended with similar effects^ I shall allow, if you p
that the one proposition*nmy justly be inferred froE
other : I know, in fact, that it always is inferred. But i
insist that the inference is made by a chain of reasc
I desire you to produce that reasoning. The conn
between these propositions is not intuitive. There
quired a medium, which may enable the mind to
such an inference, if indeed it be drawn by reasonin]
argument. What that medium is, I must confess, j
my comprehension ; and it is incumbent on those tc
duce it, who assert that it really exists, and is the ori|
all our conclusions concerning matter of fact.
30 This negative argument must certainly, in proce
time, become altogether convincing, if many penet:
and able philosophers shall turn their enquiries thii
and no one be ever able to discover any connecting
position or intermediate step, which supports the i
standing in this conclusion. But as the question :
new, every reader may not trust so far to his own
tration, as to conclude, because an argument escape
enquiry, that therefore it does not really exist. Fc
Sect. IV, Part II.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 35
reason it may be requisite to venture upon a more difficult
, task ; and enumerating all the branches of human know-
ledge, endeavour to show that none of them can afford
such an argument.
All reasonings may be divided into two kinds, namely,
demonstrative 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, resembles 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 conceived, implies
no contradiction, and can never be proved false by any
demonstrative argument or abstract reasoning d. 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 mentioned. 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 concerning existence are
founded on the relation of cause and effect; that our
knowledge of that relation is derived entirely from experi-
ence j and that all our experimental conclusions proceed
upon the supposition that the future will be confonnable
to the past. To endeavour, therefore, the proof of this last
supposition by probable arguments, or arguments regarding
36 AN ENQUIRY CONCERmNG [Sect. IV, P;
existence, must be evidently going in a circle, and tal
that for granted, which is the very point in question.
31 In reality, all arguments from experience are foundec
the similarity which we discover among natural objf
and by which we are induced to expect effects simila
those which we have found to follow from such obj«
And though none but a fool or madman will ever pret
to dispute the authority of experience, or to reject
great guide of human life, it may surely be allowed a pi
sopher to have so much curiosity at least as to examine
principle of human nature, which gives this mighty authc
to experience, and makes us draw advantage from
similarity which nature has placed among different obje
From causes which appear similar we expect similar effe
This is the sum of all our experimental conclusions. I
it seems evident that, if this conclusion were formed
reason, it would be as perfect at first, and upon
instance, as after ever so long a course of experience,
the case is far otherwise. Nothing so like as eggs ; yei
one, on account of this appearing similarity, expects
same taste and relish in all of them. It is only after a 1
course of uniform experiments in any kind, that we at
a firm reliance and security with regard to a partic
event. Now where is that process of reasoning wh
from one instance, draws a conclusion, so different f
that which it infers from a hundred instances that
nowise different from that single one? This ques
I propose as much for the sake of information, as wit!
intention of raising difficulties. I cannot find, I car
iniagine any such reasoning. But I keep my mind
open to instruction, if any one will vouchsafe to bes
it on me.
32 Should it be said that, from a number of uniform exj
ments, we infer a connexion between the sensible quali
and the secret powers; this, I must confess, seems
Sect IV, Part II.) HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. ^*i
same difSeulty, couched 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
support. 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 contrary to plain matter of fact. Here,
then, is our natural state of ignorance with regard to the
powers and influence of all objects. 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 like effect.
From a body of like colour and consistence with bread we
expect hke 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 conjoined with such secret powers : And
when he says. Similar sensible qualities will always be con-
joined with similar secret powers, he is not guilty of a tauto-
logy, nor are these propositions in any respect the same.
You say that the one proposition is an inference 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 founda-
tion, 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 cpurse pf nature may
38 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. IV, Pa
change, and that the past may be no rule for the future
experience becomes useless, and can give rise to no
ference or conclusion. It is impossible, therefore, that
arguments from experience can prove this resembla
of the past to the future ; since all these arguments
founded on the supposition of that resemblance. Let
course of things be allowed hitherto ever so regular ;
alone, without some new argument or inference, pre
not that, for the future, it will continue so. In vain
you pretend to have learned the nature of bodies from )
past experience. Their secret nature, and conseque
all their effects and influence, may change, without
change in their sensible qualities. This happens so
times, and with regard to some objects : Why may it
happen always, and with regard to all objects ? What Ic
what process of argument secures you against this supj
tion ? My practice, you say, refutes my doubts. But
mistake the purport of my question. As an agent, I
quite satisfied in the point ; but as a philosopher, who
some share of curiosity, I will not say scepticism, I war
learn the foundation of this inference. No reading,
enquiry has yet been able to remove my difficulty, or j
me satisfaction in a matter of such importance. Can 1
better than propose the difficulty to the public, even thoi
perhaps, I have small hopes of obtaining a solution ?
shall at least, by this means, be sensible of our ignorai
if we do not augment our knowledge.
33 I must confess that a man is guilty of unpardoni
arrogance who concludes, because an argument
escaped his own investigation, that therefore it does
really exist. I must also confess that, though all
learned, for several ages, should have employed themse
in fruitless search upon any subject, it may still, perhaps
rash to conclude positively that the subject must, theref
pass all human comprehension. Even though we exan
Seel. IV. Part II.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING, 39
all the sources of our knowledge, and conclude them
unfit for such a subject, there may still remain a suspicion,
that the enumeration is not complete, or the examination
not accurate. But with regard to the present subject,
there are some considerations which seem to remove all
this accusation 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, there-
fore, 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 argument ; nor
have you any pretence 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, 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 appear-
ance, 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 J since I cannot now "discover an argument which,
it seems, was perfectly familiar to me long before I was
out of my cradle.
SECTION V.
SCEPTICAL SOLUTION OF THESE DOUBTS.
Part I.
84 The passion for philosophy, like that for religion, se
liable to this inconvenience, that, though it aims at
correction of our manners, and extirpation of our vi
it may only serve, by imprudent management, to fc
a predominant inclination, and push the mind, with n
determined resolution, towards that side which aire
draws too much, by the bias and propensity of the nat
temper. It is certain that, while we aspire to the r
nanimous firmness of the philosophic sage, and endear
to confine our pleasures altogether within our own mil
we may, at last, render our philosophy like that of Epicte
and other Stoics, only a more refined system of selfishn
and reason ourselves out of all virtue as well as sc
enjoyment. While we study with attention the vanit]
human life, and turn all our thoughts towards the en
and transitory nature of riches and honours, we
perhaps, all the while flattering our natural indolei
which, hating the bustle of the world, and drudgen
business, seeks a pretence of reason to give itself a
and uncontrolled indulgence. There is, however,
species of philosophy which seems little liable to
inconvenience, and that because it strikes in with
disorderly passion of the human mind, nor can mil
itself with any natural affection or propensity ; and tha
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 41
the Academic or Sceptical philosophy. The academics
always talk of doubt and suspense of judgement, of danger
in hasty determinations, of confining to very narrow bounds
the enquiries of the understanding, and of renouncing all
speculations which lie not within the limits of common life
and practice. Nothing, therefore, can be more contrary
than such a philosophy to the supine indolence of the
mind, its rash arrogance, its lofty pretensions, and its
superstitious credulity. Every passion is mortified by it,
except the love of truth ; and that passion never is, nor can
be, carried to too high a degree. It is surprising, therefore,
that this philosophy, which, in almost every instance, must
be harmless and innocent, should be the subject of so
much groundless reproach and obloquy. But, perhaps,
the very circumstance which renders it so innocent is
what chiefly exposes it to the public hatred and resentment.
By flattering no irregular passion, it gains few partizans :
By opposing so many vices and follies, it raises to itself
abundance of enemies, who stigmatize it as libertine,
profane, and irreligious.
Nor need we fear that this philosophy, while it endeavours
to limit our enquiries to common life, should ever undermine
the reasonings of common life, and carry its doubts so far
as to destroy all action, as well as speculation. Nature
will always maintain her rights, and prevail in the end over
any abstract reasoning whatsoever. Though we should
conclude, for instance, as in the foregoing section, that, in
all reasonings from experience, there is a step taken by the
mind which is not supported by any argument or process
of the understanding; there is no danger that these
reasonings, on which almost all knowledge depends, will
ever be affected by such a discovery. If the mind be not
engaged by argument to make this step, it must be induced
by some other principle of equal weight and authority ; and
that principle will preserve its influence as long as human
42 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect v, Pa
nature remains the same. What that principle is may \
be worth the pains of enquiry.
35 Suppose a person, though endowed with the strong
facuhies of reason and reilection, to be brought on a sud(
into this world; he would, indeed, immediately obse
a continual succession of objects, and one event follow
another; but he would not be able to discover anyth
farther. He would not, at first, by any reasoning, be a
to reach the idea of cause and effect ; since the partici
powers, by which all natural operations are perform
never appear to the senses ; nor is it reasonable to conck
merely because one event, in one instance, precedes anotl
that' therefore the one is the cause, the other the eff
Their conjunction may be arbitrary and casual. Th
may be no reason to infer the existence of one from
appearance of the other. And in a word, such a pers
without more experience, could never employ his conject
or reasoning concerning any matter of fact, or be assu
of anything beyond what was immediately present to
memory and senses.
Suppose, again, that he has acquired more experiei
and has lived so long in the world as to have obser
familiar objects or events to be constantly conjoii
together ; what is the consequence of this experience ?
immediately infers the existence of one object from
appearance of the other. Yet he has not, by all
experience, acquired any idea or knowledge of the sei
power by which the one object produces the other;
is it, by any process of reasoning, he is engaged to d
this inference. But still he finds himself determined
draw it : And though he should be convinced that
understanding has no part in the operation, he wc
nevertheless continue in the same course of think
There is some other principle which determines him
form such a conclusion.
' Sect. V, Part I.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING, 43
86 This principle is Custom or Habit. For wherever the
repetition of any particular act or operation produces a
propensity to renew the same act or operation, without
being impelled by any reasoning or process of the under-
standing, we always say, that this propensity is the effect
of Custom. By employing that word, we pretend not to
have given the ultimate reason of such a propensity. We
only point out a principle of human nature, which is
universally acknowledged, and which is well known by its
effects. Perhaps we can push our enquiries no farther, or
pretend to give the cause of this cause; but must rest
contented with it as the ultimate principle, which we can
assign, of all our conclusions from experience. It is
sufficient satisfaction,, that we can go so far, without
repining at the narrowness of our faculties because they
will carry us no farther. And it is certain we here advance
'a very intelligible proposition at least, if not a true one,
when we assert that, after the constant conjunction of two
objects — heat and flame, for instance, weight and solidity —
we are determined by custom alone to expect the one from
the appearance of the other. This hypothesis seems even
the only one which explains the difficulty, why we draw,
from a thousand instances, an inference which we are not
able to draw from one instance, that is, in no respect,
different from them. Reason is incapable of any such
variation. The conclusions which it draws from con-
sidering one circle are the same which it would form upon
surveying all the circles in the universe. But no man,
having seen only one body move after being impelled by
another, could infer that every other body will move after
a like impulse. fAU inferences from experience, therefore,
are effects of custom, not of reasoning^
"■ Nothing is more useful than for writers, even, on moral, political, or
physical subjects, to distinguish between reason and experience, and to
suppose, that these species of argumentation are entirely different from
44 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. V, Par
Custom, then, is the great guide of human life. It
that principle alone which renders our experience usel
to us, and makes us expect, for the future, a similar tra
of events with those which have appeared in the pa
each other. The former are taken for the mere result of our intellect!
faculties, which, by considering h priori the nature of things, a
examining the effects, that must follow from their operation, establ:
particular principles of science and philosophy. The latter are suppos
to be derived entirely from sense and observation, by which we les
what has actually resulted from the operation of particular objects, a
are thence able to infer, what will, for the future, result from the
Thus, for instance, the limitations and restraints of civil govemme
and a legal constitution, may be defended, either from reason, whi
reflecting on the great frailty and corruption of human nature, teach
that no man can safely be trusted with unlimited authority ; or fr<
experience and history, which inform us of the enormous abuses, tl
ambition, in every age and cormtry, has been found to make of
imprudent a confidence.
The same distinction between reason and experience is maintained
all our deliberations concerning the conduct of life ; while the experienc
statesman, general, physician, or merchant is trusted and followed; a
the unpractised novice, with whatever natural talents endowed, neglect
and despised. Though it be allowed, that reason may form v(
plausible conjectures with regard to the consequences of such a pi
ticular conduct in such particular circumstances ; it is still suppos
imperfect, without the assistance of experience, which is alone al
to give stability and certainty to the maxims, derived from study a
reflection.
But notwithstanding that this distinction be thus universally receive
both in the active speculative scenes of life, I shall not scruple
pronounce, that it is, at bottom, erroneous, at least, superficial.
If we examine those arguments, which, in any of the sciences abc
mentioned, are supposed to be the mere effects of reasoning a
reflection, they will be found to terminate, at last, in some gene:
principle or conclusion, for which we can assign no reason but obsen
tion and experience. The only difference between them and the
maxims, which are vulgarly esteemed the result of pure experience,
that the former cannot be established without some process of thougi
and some reflection on what we have observed, in order to distingui
its circumstances, and trace its consequences : Whereas in the latter, t
experienced event is exactly and fully familiar to that which we infer
the result of any particular situation. The history of a Tiberius
a Nero makes us dread a like tyranny, were our monarchs freed frc
the restraints of laws and senates : But the observation of any fraud
Sect. V, Part I.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 45
Without the influence of custom, we should be entirely
ignorant of every matter of fact beyond what is immediately
present to the memory and senses. We should never
know how to adjust means to ends, or to employ our
natural powers in the production of any effect. There
would be an end at once of all action, as well as of the
chief part of speculation.
37 But here it may be proper to remark, that though our
conclusions from experience carry us beyond our memory
and senses, and assure us of matters of fact which hap-
pened in the most distant places and most remote ages,
yet some fact must always be present to the senses or
memory, from which we may first proceed in drawing these
conclusions. A man, who should find in a desert country
the remains of pompous buildings, would conclude that
the country had, in ancient times, been cultivated by
civilized inhabitants ; but did nothing of this nature occur
cruelty in private life is sufficient, with the aid of a little thought, to
give us the same apprehension ; virhile it serves as an instance of the
general corruption of human nature, and shovirs us the danger which we
must incur by reposing an entire confidence in mankind. In both cases,
it is experience which is ultimately the foundation of our inference and
conclusion.
There is no man so young and unexperienced, as not to have formed,
from observation, many general and just maxims concerning human
affairs and the conduct of life ; but it must be confessed, that, when
a man comes to put these in practice, he will be extremely liable to
error, till time and farther experience both enlarge these maxims, and
teach him their proper use and application. In every situation or
incident, there are many particular and seemingly minute circumstances,
which the man of greatest talent is, at first, apt to overlook, though on
them the justness of his conclusions, and consequently the prudence of
his conduct, entirely depend. Not to mention, that, to a young beginner,
the general observations and maxims occur not always on the proper
occasions, nor can be immediately applied with due calmness and
distinction. The truth is, an unexperienced reasoner could be no
reasoner at all, were he absolutely unexperienced ; and when we assign
that character to any one, we mean it only in a comparative sense, and
suppose him possessed of experience, in a smaller and more imperfect
degree.
46 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. V, Pi
to him, he could never form such an inference. We le
the events of former ages from history ; but then we n;
peruse the volumes in which this instruction is contair
and thence carry up our inferences from one testimony
another, till we arrive at the eyewitnesses and spectator:
these distant events. In a word, if we proceed not u]
some fact, present to the memory or senses, our reasoni
would be merely hypothetical ; and however the partici
links might be connected with each other, the whcle ch
of inferences would have nothing to support it, nor co
we ever, by its means, arrive at the knowledge of any i
existence. If I ask why you believe any particular ma
of fact, which you relate, you must tell me some reasi
and this reason will be some other fact, connected with
But as you cannot proceed after this manner, in infinit
you must at last terminate in some fact, which is presen
your memory or senses ; or must allow that your belie
entirely without foundation.
38 What, then, is the conclusion of the whole matter?
simple one; though, it must be confessed, pretty rem
from the common theories of philosophy. TaII belief
matter of fact or real existence is derived merely from sc
fobject, present to the memory or senses, and a custom
^conjunction between that and some other o b^ct^ Oi
other words J having found, in many instances, that ;
two kinds of objects — flame and heat, snow and cold — h
always been conjoined together ; if flame or snow be ]
sented anew to the senses, the mind is carried by cust
to expect heat or cold, and to believe that such a qua
does exist, and will discover itself upon a nearer approe
This belief is the necessary result of placing the mind
such circumstances. It is an operation of the soul, wl
we are so situated, as unavoidable as to feel the passion
love, when we receive benefits ; or hatred, when we ir
with injuries. All these operations are a species of nati
Sect. V, Part II.) HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 47
instincts, which no reasoning or process of the thought and
understanding is able either to produce or to prevent.
At this point, it would be very allowable for us to stop
our philosophical researches. In most questions we can
never make a single step farther ; and in all questions we
must terminate here at last, after our most restless and
curious enquiries. But still our curiosity will be pardonable,
perhaps commendable, if it carry us on to still farther
researches, and make us examine more accurately the
nature of this belief, and of the customary conjunction,
whence it is derived. By this means we may meet with
some explications and analogies that will give satisfaction ;
at least to such as love the abstract sciences, and can be
entertained with speculations, which, however accurate,
may still retain a degree of doubt and uncertainty. As to
readers of a different taste; the remaining part of this
section is not calculated for them, and the following
enquiries may well be understood, though it be neglected.
Part II.
39 / [Nothing is more free than the imagination of man ; and 1
'though it cannot exceed that original stock of ideas I
furnished by the internal and external senses, it has un- i
llimited power of mixing, compounding, separating, and]
dividing these ideas, in all the varieties of fiction and vision J[
It can feign a train of events, with all the appearance of
reality, ascribe to them a particular time and place, conceive
them as existent, and paint them out to itself with every
circumstance, that belongs to any historical fact, which it
believes with the greatest certainty. Wherein, therefore,
consists the difference between such a fiction and beUef?
It lies not merely in any peculiar idea, which is annexed to
such a conception as commands our assent, and which is
wanting to every known fiction. For as the mind has
48 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. V, Part
authority over all its ideas, it could voluntarily annex tl
particular idea to any fiction, and consequently be able
believe whatever it pleases; contrary to what we find 1
daily experience. We can, in our conception, join the he;
of a man to the body of a horse; but it is not in o
power to believe that such an animal has ever real
existed.
/ It follows, therefore, that the diiference between fictu
and belief lies in some sentiment or feeling, which
annexed to the latter, not to the former, and which depen(
' not on the will, nor can be commanded at pleasure,
must be excited by nature, like all other sentiments ; ar
must arise from the particular situation, in which the mir
is placed at any particular juncture. Whenever any obje
is presented to the memory or senses, it immediately, by tl
force of custom, carries the imagination to conceive th
object, which is usually conjoined to it ; and this conceptic
is attended with a feeling or sentiment, different from tl
loose reveries of the fancy. In this consists the who
nature of belief. For as there is no matter of fact which \
believe so firmly that we cannot conceive the contrar
there would be no difference between the conceptk
assented to and that which is rejected, were it not for son
sentiment which distinguishes the one from the other.
I see a billiard-ball moving towards another, on a smoo:
table, I can easily conceive it to stop upon contact. Th
conception implies no contradiction ; but still it feels ve
differently from that conception by which I represent
myself the impulse and the communication of motic
from one ball to another.
40 Were we to attempt a definition of this sentiment, t
should, perhaps, find it a very difficult, if not an impossib
task ; in the same manner as if we should endeavour
define the feeling of cold or passion of anger, to a creatu
who never had any experience of these sentiments. Beli
Sect. V, Part II.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 49
is the true and proper name of this feeling ; and no one is
ever at a loss to know the meaning of that term ; because
every man is every moment conscious of the sentiment
represented by it. It may not, however, be improper to
attempt a description of this sentiment ; in hopes we may,
by that means, arrive at some analogies, which may afford
a more perfect explication of it. I say, then, that belief is
nothing but a more vivid, lively, forcible, firm, steady con-
ception of an object, than what the imagination alone is
ever able to attain. This variety of terms, which may
seem so unphilosophical, is intended only to express that
act of the mind, which renders realities, or what is taken for
such, more present to us than fictions, causes them to
weigh more in the thought, and gives them a superior
influence on the passions and imagination. Provided we
agree about the thing, it is needless to dispute about the
terms. The imagination has the command over all its
ideas, and can join and mix and vary them, in all the
ways possible. It may conceive fictitious objects with all
the circumstances of place and time. It may set them,
in a manner, before our eyes, in their true colours, just
as they might have existed. But as it is impossible that
this faculty of imagination can ever, of itself, reach belief,
it is evident that belief consists not in the peculiar nature
or order of ideas, but in the manner of their conception,
and in their feeling to the mind. I confess, that it is
impossible perfectly to explain this feeling or manner of
conception. We may make use of words which express
something near it. But its true and proper name, as we
observed before, is belief; which is a term that every one
sufficiently understands in common life. And in philo-
sophy, we can go no farther than assert, that belief is
something felt by the mind, which distinguishes the ideas
of the judgement from the fictions of the imagination. It
gives them more weight and influence ; makes them appear
E
50 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [SectV.Pai
of greater importance; enforces them in the mind; i
renders them the governing principle of our actions. I h
at present, for instance, a person's voice, with whom I
acquainted ; and the sound comes as from the next ro(
This impression of my senses immediately conveys
thought to the person, together with all the surround
objects. I paint them out to myself as existing at pres(
with the same qualities and relations, of which I formi
knew them possessed. These ideas take faster hold of
mind than ideas of an enchanted castle. They are \
different to the feeling, and have a much greater influenc(
every kind, either to give pleasure or pain, joy or sorrow
Let us, then, take in the whole compass of this doctr
and allow, that the sentiment of belief is nothing
a conception more intense and steady than what atte
the mere fictions of the imagination, and that this mati
of conception arises from a customary conjunction
the object with something present to the memory
senses: I believe that it will not be difficult, upon tl
suppositions, to find other operations of the mind analog
to it, and to trace up these phenomena to principles
more general.
41 We have already observed that nature has establis
connexions among particular ideas, and that no soc
one idea occurs to our thoughts than it introduces its
relative, and carries our attention towards it, by a ge
and insensible movement. These principles of connei
or association we have reduced to three, namely, Re.
blance. Contiguity and Causation; which are the (
bonds that unite our thoughts together, and beget
regular train of reflection or discourse, which, in a gre
or less degree, takes place among all mankind. Now 1
arises a question, on which the solution of the pre
difficulty will depend. Does it happen, in all these ]
tions, that, when one of the objects is presented to
Sect. V, Part 11.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 5 1
senses or memory, the mind is not only carried to the
conception of the correlative, but reaches a steadier and
stronger conception of it than what otherwise it would
have been able to attain? This seems to be the case
with that belief which arises from the relation of cause
and effect. And if the case be the same with the other rela-
tions or principles of associations, this may be established
as a general law, which takes place in all the operations
of the mind.
We may, therefore, observe, as the first experiment
to our present purpose, that, upon the appearance of the
picture of an absent friend, our idea of him is evidently
enlivened by the resemblance, and that every passion,
which that idea occasions, whether of joy or sorrow, acquires
new force and vigour. In producing this effect, there
concur both a relation and a present impression. Where
the picture bears him no resemblance, at least was not
intended for him, it never so much as conveys our thought
to him : And where it is absent, as well as the person,
though the mind may pass from the thought of the one to
that of the other, it feels its idea to be rather weakened
than enlivened by that transition. We take a pleasure in
viewing the picture of a friend, when it is set before us ;
but when it is removed, rather choose to consider him
directly than by reflection in an image, which is equally
distant and obscure.
The ceremonies of the Roman Catholic religion may
be considered as instances of the same nature. The
devotees of that superstition usually plead in excuse for
the mummeries, with which they are upbraided, that
they feel the good effect of those external motions, and
postures, and actions, in enlivening their devotion and
quickening their fervour, which otherwise would decay,
if directed entirely to distant and immaterial objects. We
shadow out the objects of our faith, say they, in sensible
£ 2
62 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. V, Pa
types and images, and render them more present tc
by the immediate presence of these types, than it is
sible for us to do merely by an intellectual view
contemplation. Sensible objects have always a gre
influence on the fancy than any other ; and this influe
they readily convey to those ideas to which they
related, and which they resemble. I shall only infer f
these practices, and this reasoning, that the effect of res
blance in enlivening the ideas is very common \ and a
every case a resemblance and a present impression n
concur, we are abundantly supplied with experiments
prove the reality of the foregoing principle.
42 V/e may add force to these experiments by other
a different kind, in considering the effects of contiguity
well as of resemblance. It is certain that distance dii
ishes the force of every idea, and that, upon our apprc
to any object; though it does not discover itself to
senses ; it operates upon the mind with an influence, wl
imitates an immediate impression. The thinking on
object readily transports the mind to what is contiguc
but it is only the actual presence of an object, that tr
ports it with a superior vivacity. When I am a few n:
from home, whatever relates to it touches me more ne
than when I am two hundred leagues distant ; though e
at that distance the reflecting on any thing in the ne
bourhood of my friends or family naturally produces
idea of them. But as in this latter case, both the obj^
of the mind are ideas; notwithstanding there is an <
transition between them ; that transition alone is not abl
give a superior vivacity to any of the ideas, for want of s(
immediate impression \
* ' Naturane nobis, inquit, datum dicam, an eirore quodam, ut,
ea loca videamus, in quibus memoria dignos viros acceperimus mul
esse versatos, magis moveamur, qnam siqnando eorum ipsorum aut \
audiamus aut scriptum aliquod legamus? Velut ego nunc mo>
Sect. V, Part II.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 53
43 No one can doubt but causation has the same influence
as the other two relations of resemblance and contiguity.
Superstitious people are fond of the reliques of saints and
holy men, for the same reason, that they seek after types
or images, in order to enliven their devotion, and give them
a more intimate and strong conception of those exemplary
lives, which they desire to imitate. Now it is evident, that
one of the best reliques, which a devotee could procure, would
be the handywork of a saint ; and if his deaths and furniture
are ever to be considered in this light, it is because they
were once at his disposal, and were moved and affected by
him ; in which respect they are to be considered as im-
perfect eifects, and as connected with him by a shorter
chain of consequences than any of those, by which we learn
the reality of his existence.
Suppose, that the son of a friend, who had been long
dead or absent, were presented to us ; it is evident, that
this object would instantly revive its correlative idea, and
recal to our thoughts all past intimacies and familiarities,
in more lively colours than they would otherwise have
appeared to us. This is another phaenomenon, which seems
to prove the principle above mentioned.
44 We may observe, that, in these phaenomena, the belief
of the correlative object is always presupposed; without ■
which the relation could have no effect. The influence
of the picture supposes, that we believe our friend to have
Venit enim mihi Plato in mentem, quem accepimns primnm hie dis-
putare solitum : cuius etiam illi hortuli propinqui non niemoriam solum
mihi afferunt, sed ipsum videntur in conspectu meo hie ponere. Hie
Speusippus, hie Xenocrates, hie eius auditor Polemo ; cuius ipsa ilia
sessio fuit, quam videmus. Equidem etiam curiam nostram, Hostiliam
dieo, non hanc novam, quae mihi minor esse videtur postquam est maior,
solebam intuens, Scipionem, Catonem, Laelium, nostrum vero in primis
avum cogitare. Tanta vis admonitionis est in locis ; nt non sine causa
ex bis memoriae deducta sit disciplina.'
Cicera de Finibus. Lib. v.
54 -AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. V. Part
once existed. Contiguity to home can never excite o
ideas of home, unless we believe that it really exists. N(
I assert, that this belief, where it reaches beyond t
memory or senses, is of a similar nature, and arises frc
similar causes, with the transition of thought and vivacity
conception here explained. When I throw a piece of d
wood into a fire, my mind is immediately carried to co
ceive, that it augments, not extinguishes the flame. Tl
transition of thought from the cause to the effect procee
not from reason. It derives its origin altogether fro
custom and experience. And as it first begins firom i
object, present to the senses, it renders the idea or co
ception of flame more strong and lively than any loos
floating reverie of the imagination. That idea arises ii
mediately. The thought moves instantly towards it, ai
conveys to it all that force of conception, which is deriv*
from the impression present to the senses. When a swo
is levelled at my breast, does not the idea of wound ai
pain strike me more strongly, than when a glass of wii
is presented to me, even though by accident this id
should occur after the appearance of the latter objec
But what is there in this whole matter to cause such a stroi
conception, except only a present object and a customa
transition to the idea of another object, which we ha
been accustomed to conjoin with the former? This is tl
whole operation of the mind, in all our conclusions co
cerning matter of fact and existence ; and it is a satisfactic
to find some analogies, by which it may be explaine
The transition from a present object does in all cases gr
strength and solidity to the related idea.
Here, then, is a kind of pre-established harmony betwe<
the course of nature and the succession of our idea
and though the powers and forces, by which the former
governed, be wholly unknown to us ; yet our thoughts ar
conceptions have still, we find, gone on in the same tra
Se<:t.V.Partn.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING, 65
with the other works of nature. Custom is that principle,
by which this correspondence has been effected ; so neces-
sary to the subsistence of our species, and the regulation
of our conduct, in every circumstance and occurrence of
human life. Had not the presence of an object, instantly
excited the idea of those objects, commonly conjoined with
it, all our knowledge must have been limited to the narrow
* sphere of our memory and senses ; and we should never
have been able to adjust means to ends, or employ our
natural powers, either to the producing of good, or avoiding
of evil. Those, who delight in the discovery and con-
templation of Jinal causes, have here ample subject to
employ their wonder and admiration.
45 I shall add, for a further confirmation of the foregoing
theory, that, as this operation of the mind, by which we
infer like effects from like causes, and vice versa, is so
essential to the subsistence of all human creatures, it is
not probable, that it could be trusted to the fallacious
deductions of our reason, which is slow in its operations ;
appears not, in any degree, during the first years of infancy \
and at best is, in every age and period of human life, ex-
tremely liable to error and mistake. It is more conformable
to the ordinary wisdom of nature to secure so necessary an
act of the mind, by some instinct or mechanical tendency,
which may be infallible in its operations, may discover"
itself at the first appearance of life and thought, and may
be independent of all the laboured deductions of the under-
standing. As nature has taught us the use of our limbs,
without giving us the knowledge of the muscles and nerves,
by which they are actuated ; so has she implanted in us
an instinct, which carries forward the thought in a corre-
spondent course to that which she has established among
external objects; though we are ignorant of those powers
and forces, on which this regular course and succession
of objects totally depends.
SECTION VI.
OF PROBABILITY'
46 Though there be no such thing as Chance in the world ;
our ignorance of the real cause of any event has the same
influence on the understanding, and begets a hke species of
belief or opinion.
There is certainly a probability, which arises from a
superiority of chances on any side ; and according as this
superiority encreases, and surpasses the opposite chances,
the probability receives a proportionable encrease, and
begets still a higher degree of belief or assent to that
side, in which we discover the superiority. If a dye
were marked with one figure or number of spots on
four sides, and with another figure or number of spots
on the two remaining sides, it would be more probable,
that the former would turn up than the latter; though,
if it had a thousand sides marked in the same manner,
and only one side different, the probability would be
much higher, and our belief or expectation of the event
more steady and secure. This process of the thought or
reasoning may seem trivial and obvious ; but to those who
' Mr. Locke divides all arguments into demonstrative and probable.
In this view, we must say, that it is only probable all men must die, or
that the sun will rise to-morrow. But to conform our language more to
' common use, we ought to divide arguments into demonstrations, proofs,
and probabilities. By proofs meaning such arguments from experience
as leave no room for doubt or opposition.
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 57
consider it more narrowly, it may, perhaps, afford matter for
curious speculation.
It seems evident, that, when the mind looks forward to
discover the event, which may result from the throw of such
a dye, it considers the turning up of each particular side as
alike probable; and this is the very nature of chance, to
render all the particular events, comprehended in it, entirely
equal But finding a greater number of sides concur in the
one event than in the other, the mind is carried more fre-
quently to that event, and meets it oftener, in revolving the
various possibilities or chances, on which the ultimate result
depends. This concurrence of several views in one particular
event begets immediately, by an inexplicable contrivance of
nature, the sentiment of belief, and gives that event the
advantage over its antagonist, which is supported by a
smaller number of views, and recurs less frequently to the
mind. If we allow, that belief is nothing but a iirmer and
stronger conception of an object than what attends the mere
fictions of the imagination, this operation may, perhaps, in
- some measure, be accounted for. The concurrence of these
several views or glimpses imprints the idea more strongly on
the imagination ; gives it superior force and vigour ; renders
its influence on the passions and affections more sensible ;
and in a word, begets that reliance or security, which consti-
tutes the nature of belief and opinion.
47 The case is the same with the probability of causes, as
with that of chance. There are some causes, which are
entirely uniform and constant in producing a particular
effect ; and no instance has ever yet been found of any
failure or irregularity in their operation. Fire has always
burned, and water suffocated every human creature : The
production of motion by impulse and gravity is an universal
law, which has hitherto admitted of no exception. But there
are other causes, which have been found more irregular and
uncertain; nor has rhubarb always proved a purge, or
58 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect.VL
opium a soporific to every one, who has taken these medi-
cines. It is true, when any cause fails of producing its
usual effect, philosophers ascribe not this to any irregularity
in nature; but suppose, that some secret causes, in the
particular structure of parts, have prevented the operation.
Our reasonings, however, and conclusions concerning the
event are the same as if this principle had no place. Being
determined by custom to transfer the past to the future, in
all our inferences ; where the past has been entirely regular
and uniform, we expect the event with the greatest assurance,
and leave no room for any contrary supposition. But where
different effects have been found to follow from causes, which
are to appearance exactly similar, all these various effects
must occur to the mind in transferring the past to the future,
and enter into our consideration, when we determine the
probability of the event. Though we give the preference to
that which has been found most usual, and believe that this
effect will exist, we must not overlook the other effects, but
must assign to each of them a particular weight and authority,
in proportion as we have found it to be more or less frequent. -
It is more probable, in almost every country of Europe, that
there will be frost sometime in January, than that the weather
will continue open throughout that whole month ; though
this probability varies according to the different climates,
and approaches to a certainty in the more northern kingdoms.
Here then it seems evident, that, when we transfer the past
to the future, in order to determine the effect, which will
result from any cause, we transfer all the different events, in
the same proportion as they have appeared in the past, and
conceive one to have existed a hundred times, for instance,
another ten times, and another once. As a great number of
views do here concur in one event, they fortify and confirm
it to the imagination, beget that sentiment which we call
belief, and give its object the preference above the contrary
event, which is not supported by an equal number of
Sect.VlJ HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 59
experiments, and recurs not so frequently to the thought
in transferring the past to the future. Let any one try
to account for this operation of the mind upon any of the
received systems of philosophy, and he will be sensible of
the difficulty. For my part, I shall think it sufficient, if the
present hints excite the curiosity of philosophers, and make
them sensible how defective all common theories are in
treating of such curious and such sublime subjects.
SECTION VIL
OF THE IDEA OF NECESSARY CONNEXION.
Part I.
48 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 between 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 boundaries more exact than
vice and virtue, right and wrong. If any term be defined
in geometry, the mind readily, of itself, substitutes, 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
operations of the understanding, the various agitations of the
passions, though really in themselves distinct, easily escape
us, when surveyed by reflection ; nor is it in our power to
recal the original object, as often as we have occasion to
contemplate it. Ambiguity, by this means, is gradually
introduced into our reasonings : 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. 6l
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
compare 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 phaenomena, which are often discovered
by chance, and cannot always be found, when requisite,
even by the most diligent and prudent enquiry. As moral
philosophy seems hitherto to have received less improve-
ment 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.
49 There are no ideas, which occur in metaphysics, more
62 AN- ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. VII. Part I.
obscure and uncertain, than those oi 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, 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 im-
pressions, or, in other words, that it is impossible for us to
think of any thing, which we have not antecedently _/e//, 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 or simple ideas,
that compose them. But when we have pushed up defini-
tions to the most simple ideas, and find still some ambiguit7
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 intel-
lectual view? Produce the impressions or original senti-
ments, 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.
> Section II.
Sect. VII, Part 1.1 HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 63
60 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 i;i 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 con-
nexion; any quality, which binds the effect to the cause,
and renders the one an infallible consequence of the other.
We only find, that the one does actually, in fact, follow the
other. The impulse of one billiard-ball is attended with
motion in the second. This is the whole that appears to
the ouiward senses. The mind feels no sentiment or inward
impression from this succession of objects : Consequently,
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
conjecture 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 reasoning.
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 followed 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 uni-
verse 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
64 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. VII, Part r,
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'.
51 Since, therefore, external objects as they appear to the
senses, give us no idea of power or necessary connexion, by
their operation in particular instances, let us see, whether
this idea be derived 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 volition produces
motion in our hmbs, or raises a new idea in our imagination.
This influence of the will we know by consciousness. Hence
we acquire the idea of power or energy ; and are certain,
that we ourselves and all other intelligent beings are pos-
sessed 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.
52 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 ex-
perience, and can never beforeseen from any apparent energy
* Mr. Locke, in his chapter of power, says that, finding from experi-
ence, 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.
Sect. VII, Part I.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 65
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 op eration ; 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 comprehension. 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 which
the one is able to operate, in so many instances, upon the
other.
Secondly, We are not able to move all the organs of the
body with a like authority ; 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 or liver?
This question would never embarrass 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 circumscribed 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.
66 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. VII, Part I.
A man, suddenly struck with palsy in the leg or arm, or
who had newly lost those members, frequently endeavours,
at first to move them, and employ them in their usual ofiSces.
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 consciousness never deceives. Consequently,
neither in the one case nor in the other, are we ever
conscious of any power. We learn the influence of our will
from experience alone. And experience only teaches us,
how one event constantly follows another; without in-
structing us in the secret connexion, which binds them
together, and renders them inseparable.
Thirdly, We learn from anatomy, that the immediate
object of power 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 successively
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 consciousness, is, to the last degree,
mysterious and unintelligible ? Here the mind wills a certain
event: Immediately another event, unknown 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 produced.
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
Sect. Vll, Part I.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 67
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 command of the will is a
matter of common experience, like other natural events :
But the power or energy by which this is effected, like that
in other natural events, is unknown and inconceivable \
63 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.
First, It must be allowed, that, when we know a power,
we know that very circumstance in the cause, by which it is
\ It may be pretended, that the resistance which we meet with in
bodies, obliging us frequently to exert onr 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 copied. But, first, we attribute powei
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 sentiment pf an endeavour to overcome resistance has no
known connexion with any event: What follows it, we know by
experience ; but could not know it h priori. It must, however, be con-
fessed, that the animal nisus, which we experience, though it can afford
no accurate precise idea of power, enters very much into that vulgar,
inaccurate idea, which is formed of it.
F 2
68 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. VII, Part I.
enabled to produce the effect : For these are supposed to be
synonimous. 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 creation ; 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 over our ideas ; and even the latter
authority is circumscribed 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
languishing 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
Sect. VII, Part I.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 69
the power or energy of the will equally unknown and
incomprehensible ?
Volition is surely an act of the mind, with which we are
sufficiently 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 convince us that such
extraordinary effects do ever result from a simple act of
volition.
54 The generality of mankind never find any difficulty in
accounting for the more common and familiar operations of
nature — such as the descent of heavy bodies, the growth
ol 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 immedi-
ately expect with assurance its usual attendant, and hardly
conceive it possible that any other event could result from
it. It is only on the discovery of extraordinary phaenomena,
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 re^
course to some invisible intelligent principle' as the imme-
diate cause of that event which surprises them, and which,
they think, cannot be accounted for from the common
powers of nature. But philosophers, who carry their scrutiny
* 0eds 6.nh /ttjxai'^s.
7o AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. VII, Part I.
a little farther, immediately perceive 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.
55 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 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 or 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 advanc-
ing still in their inquiries, discover that, as we are totally
ignorant of the power on which depends the mutual opera-
tion 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 con-
sciousness, to assign the ultimate principle in one case more
than in the other. The same ignorance, therefore, 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 ;
Sect. VII, Part I.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 7 1
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 erro-
neously 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.
56 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 diminish, instead of magni-
fying, 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 inferior
creatures than to produce every thing by his own im-
mediate 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 stupendous machine.
But if we would have a more philosophical confutation
of this theory, perhaps the two following reflections may
suffice.
72 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. VII, Part T.
57 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 conduct 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
extraordinary, and so remote from common life and ex-
perience. 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 may be assured that
this fancied experience has no authority when we thus
apply it to subjects that lie entirely out of the sphere of
experience. But on this we shall have occasion to touch
afterwards '.
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 supreme mind, operates either on itself or
on body ? Whence, I beseech you, do we acquire any idea
of it? We have no sentiment or consciousness of this power
in ourselves. We have no 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
» Section XII.
Seel. VII, Part IIJ HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 73
thing, we should be led into that principle of denying all
energy in the Supreme Being as much as in the grossest
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 ^mpulse than that it may arise from
volition ? All we know is our profound ignorance in both
Part II.
58 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 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
■ I need not examine at length the vis inerliae 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 froJn it by some new cause ; and that a body
impelled takes as much motion from the impelling body as it acquires
itself. These are 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 active power. It was never the meaning of
Sir Isaac Newton to rob second causes of all force or energy ; though
some of his followers have endeavoured to establish that theory upon
his authority. On the contrary, that great philosopher had recourse to
an etherial 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. Des Cartes
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, however, 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 modem metaphysicians \
74 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. VII, Part II.
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 com-
prehensible : So that, upon the whole, there appears not,
throughout all nature, any one instance of connexion
which is conceivable by us. All events seem entirely 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.
59 But there still remains one method of avoiding this con-
clusion, and one source which we have not yet examined.
When any natural object or event is presented, it is im-
possible 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 another, we are
not entitled to form a general rule, or foretell what will
happen in like cases; it being justly esteemed an un-
pardonable 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
Sect. VII, Part II.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 75
any scruple of foretelling one upon the appearance of the
other, and of employing 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 sup-
pose 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 a necessary 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 possible 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 appear-
ance 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
communication 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
76 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect, VII, Part II.
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 extraordinary, but which seems founded
on sufficient evidence. Nor will its evidence be weakened
by any general diffidence of the understanding, or sceptical
suspicion concerning every conclusion which is new and
extraordinary. No conclusions can be more agreeable to
scepticism than such as make discoveries concerning the
weakness and narrow limits of human reason and capacity.
60 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 imports 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 concerning
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 something 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 Jirst 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
Sect. VII. Part II.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING, '^
conveys the mind, by a customary 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 another, 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 in-
convenience, 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 ahy 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 mean by
that affirmation? We either mean that this vibration is
followed by this sound, and that all similar vibrations have
been folloived by similar sounds : Or, that this vibration is
followed by this sound, and that upon the appearance of one
the mind anticipates 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 *.
' According to these explications and definitions, the idea oi power
is relative as much as that of cause ; and both have a reference to an
effect, or some other event constantly conjoined v^ith the former. When
we consider the unknown circumstance of an object, by which the degree
or quantity of its effect is fixed and determined, we call that its power :
And accordingly, it is allowed by all philosophers, that the effect is the
measure of the power. But if they had any idea of power, as it is in
itself, why could not they Measure it in itself? The dispute whether the
force of a body in motion be as its velocity, or the square of its velocity ;
this dispute, I say, need not be decided by comparing its effects in equal
or unequal times; but by a direct mensuration and comparison.
As to the frequent use of the words. Force, Power, Energy, &c., which
every where occur in common conversation, as well as in philosophy ;
that is no proof, that we are acquainted, in any instance, with the
connecting principle between cause and effect, or can account ultimately
for the production of one thing to another. These words, as commonly
78 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. VII, Part II.
61 To recapitulate, therefore, the reasonings of this section :
Every idea is copied from some preceding impression or
sentiment ; and where we cannot find any impression, we
may be certain that there is no idea. In 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 instances, and not from any single
instance, it must arise from that circumstance, in which
the number of instances diifer 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 illustra-
tion) is exactly similar to any instance that may, at present,
occur to us ; except only, that we could not, at first, infer
used, have very loose meanings annexed to them ; and their ideas are
very uncertain and confused. No animal can put external bodies in
motion without the sentiment of a nisus or endeavour ; and every
animal has a sentiment or feeling from the stroke or blow of an external
object, that is in motion. These sensations, which are merely animal,
and from which we can d, priori draw no inference, we are apt to transfer
to inanimate objects, and to suppose, that they have some such feelings,
whenever they transfer or receive motion. With regard to energies,
which are exerted, without our annexing to them any idea of communi-
cated motion, we consider only the constant experienced conjunction of
the events ; and as vitfeel a customary connexion between the ideas, we
transfer that feeling to the objects ; as nothing is more usual than to
apply to external bodies every internal sensation, which they occasion.
Sect. VII, Part II.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 79
one event from the other j 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 one point of view which, if we can
happily hit, we shall go farther towards illustrating the
subject than by all the eloquence and copious expression
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 VIII.
OF LIBERTY AND NECESSITY.
Part I,
62 It might reasonably be expected in questions which
have been canvassed and disputed with great eagerness,
since the iirst origin of science and philosophy, that the
meaning of all the terms, at least, should have been agreed
upon among the disputants ; and our enquiries, in the
course of two thousand years, been able to pass from words
to the true and real subject of the controversy. For how
easy may it seem to give exact definitions of the terms
employed in reasoning, and make these definitions, not the
mere sound of words, the object of future scrutiny and
examination ? But if we consider the matter more narrowly,
we shall be apt to draw a quite opposite conclusion. From
this circumstance alone, that a controversy has been long
kept on foot, and remains still undecided, we may presume
that there is some ambiguity in the expression, and that the
disputants affix different ideas to the terms employed in the
controversy. For as the faculties of the mind are supposed
to be naturally alike in every individual ; otherwise nothing -
could be more fruitless than to reason or dispute together ;
it were impossible, if men affix the same ideas to their
terms, that they could so long form different opinions of
the same subject ; especially when they communicate their
views, and each party turn themselves on all sides, in search
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 8 1
of arguments which may give them the victory over their
antagonists. It is true, if men attempt the discussion
of questions which lie entirely beyond the reach of human
capacity, such as those concerning the origin of worlds, or
the economy of the intellectual system or region of spirits,
they may long beat the air in their fruitless contests, and
never arrive at any determinate conclusion. But if the j
question regard any subject of common life and experience,
nothing, one would think, could preserve the dispute so
long undecided but some ambiguous expressions, which
keep the antagonists still at a distance, and hinder them
from grappling with each other.
63 This has been the case in the long disputed question
concerning liberty and necessity; and to so remarkable
a degree that, if I be not much mistaken, we shall find,
that all mankind, both learned and ignorant, have always
been ot tne same opinion with regard to this subject, and,
t hat a few intelligible definitions would immediately hav e
put an end to the whole cnntrnvprsy . I own that this
dispute has been so much canvassed on all hands, and has
led philosophers into such a labyrinth of obscure sophistry,
that it is no wonder, if a sensible reader indulge his ease so
far as to turn a deaf ear to the proposal of such a question,
from which he can expect neither instruction or entertain-
ment. But the state of the argument here proposed may,
perhaps, serve to renew his attention ; as it has more
novelty, promises at least some decision of the controversy,
and will not much disturb his ease by any intricate or
obscure reasoning.
I hope , there fore, to make it appear that all me n have
ever agreed in the doctrine hnfh nf nprpssrty and of liberty-
according to any reasonable sense, which fpn he put- nn .
these term s ; and that the whole controversv has hitherto .
turned merely u po n words. We shall begin with examining
the doctrine of necessity.
G
82 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. VIII, Part L
64 It is universally allowed that matter, in all its operations,
is actuated by a necessary force, and that every natural
effect is so precisely determined by the energy of its cause
that no other effect, in such particular circumstances, could
possibly have resulted from it. The degree and direction
of every motion is, by the laws of nature, prescribed with
such exactness that a living creature may as soon arise
from the shock of two bodies as motion in any other
degree or direction than what is actually produced by it. _
( Would we, therefore, form a just and precise idea of 1
necessity, we must consider whence that idea arises when f
we apply it to the operation of bodies.
It seems evident that, if all the scenes of nature were,,
continually shifted in such a manner that no two events
bore any resemblance to each other, but every object was
entirely new, without any similitude to whatever had been
seen before, we should never, in that case, have attained
the least idea of necessity, or of a connexion among these
objects. We might say, upon such a supposition, that one
object or event has followed another; not that one was
produced by the other. The relation of cause and effect I
must be utterly unknown to mankind. Inference and J
reasoning concerning the operations of nature would, from
that moment, be at an end ; and the memory and senses
remain the only canals, by which the knowledge of any
real existence could possibly have access to the mind. Our
idea, theref or e, of necessity and causation arises entirely
from the uniformity o bservable in the operations of nature,
where similar objects are constantly conjoined together,
and the mind is determine d by custom to inter the on e",^
fr om the appearance of the other. These two circum- 1
stances form the whole of that necessity, which we ascribe I
to matter. Beyond the co nstant conjunction of similar 7
objects, and the consequent inference from one to the oth er, \
we have no notion of any necessity or connexion. J
Seel. VIII, Part I.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 83
If it appear, therefore, that all mankind have ever allowed, "]
without any doubt or hesitation, that these two circum- I
stances take place in the voluntary actions of men, and in V
the operations of mind ; it must follow, that all mankind /
have ever agreed in the doctrine of necessity, and that they |
have hitherto disputed, merely for not understanding each J
other.
65 As to the first circumstance, the constant and regular /^ )
c onjunction of similar events , we may possibly satisfy L.
ourselves by the following considerations. It is universally
acknowledged that there is a great uniformity among the
actions of men, in all nations and ages, and that human
nature remains still the same, in its principles and opera-
tions. The same motives always produce the same actions : .
The same events follow from the same causes. Ambition,! "\ \
avarice, self-love, vanity, friendship, generosity, public spirit : 5 1
these passions, mixed in various degrees, and distributed ]\li
through society, have been, from the beginning of the I ^
world, and still are, the source of all the actions and enter- \
prises, which have ever been observed among mankind.
Would you know the sentiments, inclinations, and' course
of life of the Greeks and Romans ? Study well the temper
and actions of the French and English : You cannot be
much mistaken in transferring to the former most of the
observations which you have made with regard to the
latter. Mankind are so much the same, in all times and
places, that history intorms us of nothing new or strange in
this particular. Its chief use is only to discover the con-
stant and universal principles of human nature, by showing
men in all varieties of circumstances and situations, and
furnishing us with materials from which we may form our
observations and become acquainted with the regular
springs of human action and behaviour. These records or
wars, intrigues, factions, and revolutions, are so many col-
lections of experiments, by which the politician or moral
G 2
84 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. VIII, Pari I.
philosopher fixes the principles of his science, in the same
manner as the physician or natural philosopher becomes
acquainted with the nature of plants, minerals, and other,
external objects, by the experiments which he forms con-
cerning them. Nor are the earth, water, and other elements,
examined by -Aristotle, and Hippocrates, more like to those
which at present lie under our observation than the men
described by Polybius and Tacitus are to those who now
govern the world.
Should a traveller, returning from a far country, bring us
an account of men, wholly different from any with whom
we were ever acquainted ; men, who were entirely divested
of avarice, ambition, or revenge ; who knew no pleasure
but friendship, generosity, and public spirit ; we should
immediately, from these circumstances, detect the false-
hood, and prove him a liar, with the same certainty as if
he had stuffed his narration with stories of centaurs and
dragons, miracles and prodigies. And if we would explode
any forgery in history, we cannot make use of a more con-
vincing argument, than to prove, that the actions ascribed
to any person are directly contrary to the course of nature,
and that no human motives, in such circumstances, could
ever induce him to such a conduct. The veracity of
Quintus Curtius is as much to be suspected, when he
describes the supernatural courage of Alexander, by which
he was hurried on singly to attack multitudes, as when he
describes his supernatural force and activity, by which he
was able to resist them. So readily and universally do we
acknowledge a uniformity in human motives and actions as
well as in the operations of body.
Hence likewise the benefit of that experience, acquired
by long life and a variety of business and company, in
order to instruct us in the principles of human nature, and
regulate our future conduct, as well as speculation. By
means of this guide, we mount up to the knowledge of
\
Sect. VIII, Part 1.1 HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 85
men's inclinations and motives, from their actions, ex-
pressions, and even gestures; and again descend to the
interpretation of their actions from our knowledge of
their motives and inclinations. The general observations
treasured up by a course of experience, give us the clue
of human nature, and teach us to unravel all its intricacies.
Pretexts and appearances no longer deceive us. Public
declarations pass for the specious colouring of a cause.
And though virtue and honour be allowed their proper
weight and authority, that perfect disinterestedness, so ofter*
pretended to, is never expected in multitudes and parties ;
seldom in their leaders; and scarcely even in individuals
of any rank or station. But were there no uniformity in
huntan actions, and were every experiment which we could
form of this kind irregular and anomalous, it were impos-
sible to collect any general observations concerning man-
kind ; and no experience, however accurately digested by
reflection, would ever serve to any purpose. Why is the
aged husbandman more skilful in his calling than the young
beginner but because there is a certain uniformity in the
operation of the sun, rain, and earth towards the pro-
duction of vegetables; and experience teaches the old
practitioner the rules by which this operation is governed
and directed.
66 We must not, however, expect that this uniformity of \
human actions should be carried to such a length as that
all men, in the same circumstances, will always act precisely
in the same manner, without making any allowance for
the diversity of characters, prejudices, and opinions. Such
a uniformity in every particular, is found in no part of
nature. On the contrary, from observing the variety of
conduct in different men, we are enabled to form a greater
variety of maxims, which still suppose a degree of uni-
formity and regularity. ,
Are the manners of men different in different ages and "^
V
86 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. VIII, Part I.
countries ? We learn thence the great force of custom and
education, which mould the human mind from its infancy
and form it into a fixed and established character. Is the
behaviour and conduct of the one sex very unlike that
of the other ? Is it thence we become acquainted with the
different characters which nature has impressed upon the
sexes, and which she preserves with constancy and regu-
larity ? Are the actions of the same person much diversified
in the different periods of his life, from infancy to old age?
This affords room for many general observations concerning
the gradual change of our sentiments and inclinations, and
the different maxims which prevail in the different ages of
human creatures. Even the characters, which are peculiar
to each individual, have a uniformity in their influence j
otherwise our acquaintance with the persons and our observa-
tion of their conduct could never teach us their dispositions,
or serve to direct our behaviour with regard to them.
67 I grant it possible to find some actions, which seem
to have no regular connexion with any known motives, and
are exceptions to all the measures of conduct which have
ever been established for the government of men. But
if we would willingly know what judgement should be formed
of such irregular and extraordinary actions, we may con-
sider the sentiments commonly entertained with regard to
those irregular events which appear in the course of nature,
and the operations of external objects. All causes are not
conjoined to their usual effects with like uniformity. An
artificer, who handles only dead matter, may be disappointed
of his aim, as well as the politician, who directs the conduct
of sensible and intelligent agents.
The vulgar, who take things according to their first
appearance, attribute the uncertainty of events to such an
uncertainty in the causes as makes the latter often fail
of their usual influence ; though they meet with no impedi-
ment in their operation. But philosophers, observing that.
)
Sect.vni,PartI.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 87
almost in every part of nature, there is contained a vast
variety of springs and principles, which are hid, by reason
of their minuteness or remoteness, find, Jhat it is at least
possible t&e contrariet y of events may not proceed from any
contingency in tj ie_cause, but from the secret operatioli of
contrary causes. This possibility is converted into cer-
tainty by farther observation, when they remark that, upon
an exact scrutiny, a contrariety of effects always betrays
a contrariety of causes, and proceeds from their mutual
opposition. A peasant can give no better reason for the
stopping of any clock or watch than to say that it does not
commonly go right : But an artist easily perceives that the
same force in the spring or pendulum has always the same
influence on the wheels ; but fails of its usual effect, perhaps
by reason of a grain of dust, which puts a stop to the
whole movement. From the observation of several parallel
instances, philosophers form a maxim that the connexion
between all causes and effects is equally necessary, and
that its seeming uncertainty in some instances proceeds
from the secret opposition of contrary causes.
Thus, for instance, in the human body, when the usual
symptoms of health or sickness disappoint our expectation ;
when medicines operate not with their wonted powers ;
when irregular events follow from any particular cause ; the
philosopher and physician are not surprised at the matter,
nor are ever tempted to deny, in general, the necessity and
uniformity of those principles by which the animal economy
is conducted. They know that a human body is a mighty
complicated machine : That many secret powers lurk in it,
which are altogether beyond our comprehension : That to
us it must often appear very uncertain in its operations : And
that therefore the irregular events, which outwardly discover
themselves, can be no proof that the laws of nature are
not observed with the greatest regularity in its internal \
operations and government.
(i\^.
88 AAT ENQUIRY CONCERNING (Sect VIII, Part L
68 The philosopher, if he be consistent, must apply the same■^
reasoning to the actions and volitions of intelligent agents, j
The most irregular and unexpected resolutions of men may
frequently be accounted for by those who know every particular
circumstance of their character and situation. A person of
an obliging disposition gives a peevish answer : But he has
the toothache, or has not dined. A stupid fellow discovers
an uncommon alacrity in his carriage : But he has met with
a sudden piece of good fortune. Or even when an action,
as sometimes happens, cannot be particularly accounted for,
either by the person himself or by others; we know, in 1
general, that the characters of men are, to a certain degree, {
inconstant and irregular. This is, in a manner, the constant
character of human nature ; though it be applicable, in
a more particular manner, to some persons who have no
fixed rule for their conduct, but proceed in a continuedA
course of caprice and inconstancy. The internal principles I
and motives may operate in a uniform manner, notwith- 1
standing these seeming irregularities ; in the same manner \
as the winds, rain, clouds, and other variations of the [
weather are supposed to be governed by steady principles ; \
though not easily discoverable by human sagacity and \
enquiry.
69 Thu s it appears, not only that the conjunction between
motives and voluntary actions is as regular and uniform
aj) that bclvuLLii t he t;aUMe and effect in any part of nature;
but also that this regular conjunction has be en univ ersally^
acknowl edged among mankind, and has never been the •?
subject of dispute, either in philosophj^r common life.^ Now,
as It is irom past experience that we araw an mierences
concerning the future, and as we conclude that objects will
always be conjoined together which we find to have always
been conjoined ; it may se em superfluous to prove that this ^
experienced uniformity in human artinna ica gnnrr pwhpnrp
we draw inferences concerning them. But in order to throw
Sect. VIII, Part I.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 89
the argument into a greater variety of lights we shall also
insist, though briefly, on this latter topic.
The mutual dependence of men is so great in all societies
that scarce any human action is entirely complete in itself,
or is performed without some reference to the actions of
others, which are requisite to make it answer fully the in-
tention of the agent. The poorest artificer, who labours
alone, expects at least the protection of the magistrate, to
ensure him the enjoyment of the fruits of his labour. He
also expects that, when he carries his goods to market, and
offers them at a reasonable price, he shall find purchasers,
and shall be able, by the money he acquires, to engage others
to supply him with those commodities which are requisite
for his subsistence. In proportion as men extend their
dealings, and render their intercourse with others more com-
plicated, t hey always comprehend, in their schemes of life,
a greater variety of voluntary actions, w hich they expect, from
t he proper motives, to co-operate with their own. In all these
conclusions they take their measures from past experience,
in the same manner as in their reasonings concerning
external objects j and fir mly believe that men, as well as all
the elements, are to continue, in their operations, the same
that they have ever found them. A manufacturer reckons
upon the labour of his servants tor theexecution of any work
as much as upon the tools which he employs, and would
be equally surprised were his expectations disappointed.
In short, this experimental inf erence and reasoning con-
cerning the actions of others enters so much int o human lif&,
that no man~while ^wake, is_ever a mome nt without em-
ploying ft. Have we not reason, therefore, to affirm that-
a ll mankind have always agreed in the doctrinfi of nprpssity
a ccording to the foregoing definition and e vpliraf^ 'nn nf i> ?
70 Nor have philosophers ever entertai npH a <^iff•prpn^ npininn
from the people in th is partioular. _ Fnr, not to mention that
almost every action of their life supposes that opinion, there
90 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. VIII, Part I,
are even few of the speculative parts of learning to which it
is not essential. What would become of history, had we not
a dependence on the veracity of the historian according to
the experience which we have had of mankind ? How could
politics be a science, if laws and forms of goverment had not
a uniform influence upon society? Where would be the
foundation of morals, if particular characters had no certain
or determinate power to produce particular sentiments, and
if these sentiments had no constant operation on actions ?
And with what pretence could we employ our criticism upon
any poet or polite author, if we could not pronounce the
conduct and sentiments of his actors either natural or un-
natural to such characters, and in such circumstances?
It seems almost impossible, therefore, to engage either in
science or action of any kind without acknowledging the
doctrine of necessity, and this inference from motive to
voluntary actions, from characters to conduct.
And indeed, when we consider how aptly natural and
moral evidence link together, and form only one chain of
argument, we shall make no scruple to allow that they are
of the same nature, and derived from the same principles.
A prisoner who has neither money nor interest, discovers
the impossibility of his escape, as well when he considers
the obstinacy of the gaoler, as the walls and bars with
which he is surrounded ; and, in all attempts for his freedom,
chooses rather to work upon the stone and iron of the one,
than upon the inflexible nature of the other. The same
prisoner, when conducted to the scaffold, foresees his death
as certainly from the constancy and fidelity of his guards, as
from the operation of the axe or wheel. His mind runs
along a certain train of ideas : The refusal of the soldiers
to consent to his escape ; the action of the executioner ;
the separation of the head and body ; bleeding, convulsive
motions, and death. Here is a connected chain of natural
causes and voluntary actions ; but the mind feels no differ-
Sect VIII, Part I.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING^ 9 1
ence between them in passing from one link to another:
Nor is less certain of the future event than if it were con-
nected with the objects present to the memory or senses, by
a train of causes, cemented together by what we are pleased
to call a physical necessity. The same experie nced union
has the same effect on the mmd, whether the unite d
objects be motives, volition, and ac tions; or figure and
motion. We may change the name of things ; but their
nature and their operation on the understanding never /
change.
Were a man, whom I know to be honest and opulent,
and with whom I live in intimate friendship, to come into
my house, where I am surrounded with my servants, I rest
assured that he is not to stab me before he leaves it in
order to rob me of my silver standish ; and I no more
suspect this event than the falling of the house itself, which
is new, and solidly built and founded. — But he may have
been seized with a sudden and unknown frenzy. — So may
a sudden earthquake arise, and shake and tumble my house
about my ears. I shall therefore change the suppositions. ,
I shall say that I know with certainty that he is not to put
his hand into the fire and hold it there till it be consumed :
And this event, I think I can foretell with the same assurance,
as that, if he throw himself out at the window, and meet
with no obstruction, he will not remain a moment suspended
in the air. No suspicion of an unknown frenzy can give
the least possibility to the former event, which is so con-
trary to all the known principles of human nature. A man
who at noon leaves his purse full of gold on the pavement
at Charing-Cross, may as well expect that it will fly away
like a feather, as that he will find it untouched an hour after.
Above one half of human reasonings contain inferences of
a similar nature, attended with more or less degrees of cer-
tainty proportioned to our experience of the usual conduct
of mankind in such particular situations*
92 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING (Sect. VIll, Part I.
71 I have frequently considered, w hat could possib ly hp tViw — ,
r eason why all mankind, though thev hav **"<"•, witll""^
hesitation, ackn o wledged the doctrine of necessity in their
whole practice and reasonin g, have yet discovered such
a reluctance to acknowledge it in words, and have rather
g hown a propensity, in all ages, to profess the contrary
opinion. The matter, I think, may be accounted for after
the following manner. If we examine the operations of
body, and the production of effects from their causes, we
shall find that all our faculties can never carry us farther in
our knowledge of this relation than barely to observe that
particular objects are constantly conjoine d together, and that
the min d is carried, by a customary transition, frnyo *^'^
appearan ce of one to the belief of the other. But though
this conclusion concerning human ignorance be the resulti^
of the strictest scrutiny of this subjec t. men_ still entertain i
a strong propensity to believe that they penetrate farth er I
i nto the powers of nature," and perceive something lik e [
a necessary connexion between the ransp an H thp pffpct J
( When aga in they turn their reflecti ons towards j he opera - ^
\ tions of theu: own minds, axiAfeel no such connexion of the I
I mofive and" the^actwnyThey^re thence apt to suppose, that I
mere is a difference between the effects which result from I
material force, and those which arise from thought and I
intelligence. But bei ng once convinced that we know/
nothing farther ot caus ation ot any kind than laetfely th e*
c onstani conjunction of objects, and the consequent inference.
of the mind from one to another, and finding that these
two circumstances are universally allowed to have place in
voluntary actions ; we jnay be more easily led to own the
same necessity common to all causes. A nd though thi s"^
reasomn g may contradict the systems of many philosophers ,
in ascribing necessity to the determinations of the will, we
s hall find, upon reflection ^_thaniiPyfT''=s°nt from it in irord^
only, not in their real sentiment. Necessity, according to the
Sect. VIII, Parti.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 93
•sense i n which it is here ta^en, has never vet hfjP" rpjpftp^l, —
nor can ever, 1 think, be rejected by any philosopher. It
may only, perhaps, "be pretended that the mind can" per-
ceive, in the operations of matter, some farther connexion
between the cause and effect ; and connexion that has not
place in voluntary actions of intelligent beings. Now
whether it be so or not, can only appear upon examination ;
and it is incumbent on these philosophers to make good
their assertion, by defining or describing that necessity, and \
pointing it out to us in the operations of material causes.
72 It would seem, Indeed, that men begin at the wrong end
of this question concerning liberty and necessity, when
they enter upon it by examining the faculties of the soul,
the influence of the understanding, and the operations of
the will. Let them first discuss a more simple question,
namely, the operations of body and of brute unintelligent
matter ; and try whether they can there form any idea of
causation and necessity, except that of a constant conjunction
of objects, and subsequent inference of the mind from one
to another. If these circumstances form, in reality, the
whole of that necessity, wnicn we conceiv e in matter, and
\\ tnese circumstances oe also universa lly acknowle dgfifl tf>
take place in the operations of the mind, the dis pute is at __
arTehq ; at least, must be owned to be thenceforth merely
verbal. But as long as we will rashly suppose, that we have
some farther idea of necessity and causation in the operations
of external objects; at the same time, that we can find
nothing farther in the voluntary actions of the mind ; there
is no possibility of bringing the question to any determinate
issue, while we proceed upon so erroneous a supposition,
The only method of undeceiving us is to mount up
higher; to examine the narrow extent of science when
applied to material causes ; and to convince ourselves that
all we know of them is the constant conjunction and
inference above mentioned. We may, perhaps, find that it
:1
94 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. VIII, Part I.
is with difficulty we are induced Ho fix such narrow limits tc
human understanding : B ut we can afterwards find no
difficulty when we come to a pply this doctri ne to the actions
of the wiir Fo r as it is evident that these have a regular!
conjunction with motives and circumstances an d characters,
and as we alway s draw inierences trom one to the other,
we must be obliged to acknowledge in words tha^; nprpggity
w hich we have already avowed, in every deliberation nf our
lives, and in every step of our conduct a "d ^f^^'"^''^"'' *-
^ T he prevalence of the doctrine of liberty may be acconnteH for, from .
a nother cause, viz. a fa lse sensat ion or seeming e v perienr r nrhirli it(i -
have, or may have, ol lib erty or inditterence, in many of our actions.
'ine necessity ot any action, whether of matter or of mind, is not,
properly speaking, a quality in the agent, but in any thinking or
intelligent being, who may consider the action ; and it consists chiefly
in the determination of his thoughts to infer the existence of that action
from some preceding objects ; as liberty, when opposed to necessity, is
nothing but the want of that determination, and a certain looseness or
indifference, which we feel, in passing, or not passing, from the idea of
one object to that of any succeeding one. Now we may observe, that,
though, in reflecting on human actions, we seldom feel such a looseness,
or indifference, but are commonly able to infer them with considerable
certainty from their motives, and from the dispositions of the agent ; yet
it frequently happens, that, in performing the actions themselves, we
are sensible of something like it : And as all resembling objects are
readily taken for each other, this has been employed as a demonstrative
and even intuitive proof of human liberty. We feel, that our actions are
subject to our vrtll, on most occasions; and imagine we feel, that the
will itself is subject to nothing, because, when by a denial of it we are
provoked to try, we feel, that it moves easily every way, and produces
an image of itself (or a Velle'ity, as it is called in the schools) even on
that side, on which it did not settle. This image, or faint motion, we
persuade ourselves, could, at that time, have been compleated into the
thing itself; because, should that be denied, we find, upon a second
trial, that, at present, it can. We consider not, that the fantastical
desire of shewing liberty, is here the motive of our actions. And it
seems certain, that, however we may imagine we feel a liberty within
ourselves, a spectator can commonly infer our actions from our motives
and character ; and even where he cannot, he concludes in general, that
he might, were he perfectly acquainted wdth every circumstance of our
situation and temper, and the most secret springs of our complexion and
disposition. Now this is the very essence of necessity, according to the
foregoing doctrine.
Sect. VIII, Part I.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 95
73 . But to proceed in this reconciling project with regard to
t;he question of liberty and necessity \ the most contentious
question of metaphysics, the most contentious science ; it
will not require many wo rds to prove , that all mankind ,
have ever agreed in the doctrine of liberty as well as in that ..
of nece ssity, and that the whole dispute, in this respect also. _ /, /,
has been luilierlO merely verbal . For w hat is meant by ,
liberty, when applied t o voluntary actions? . We cannot
sur ely mean that actions have so little connexion with
motives, inclinations, and circumstances, that one does not
f ollow with a certain degree of uniformity from the other,
and that one affords no inference hv which we ran conclude
t he ex istence of the other. For these are plain and acknow-
ledged matters 01 lacE I By li berfy, then, we ran oKly KiSan
a power of acting or not rtrfincrji^fnr/rttt^ tn the, df.terf ninatio'^^ -
0} the wil l ; that is, ii:~"we choose to remain at rest, we
may; if we choose to move, we also may. Now this
hypothetical liberty is universally allowed to belong to every
one who is not a prisoner and in chains. Here, then, is no
subject of dispute.
74 Whatev er definition we may give of liberty, we should be
careful to observe two i-^q'"""'"^^ f-ir^ nn^«^^pnf Ps • first, that
it b e consistent with plain matter of fact; secondly, that
it be consistent with-j Oselt. . it w e ob.ser ye these circum-
stances, and render our definition intelligible, T am per-
suaded that ail mankind will be found of one opi" '"" with
r egard to~it
It is universally allowed that nothing exists without
a cause of its existence, and that chance, when strictly
examined, is a mere negative word, and means not any real
power which has anywhere a being in nature. But it is
pretended that some causes are necessary, some not neces-
sary. Here th en is the advantage of definition s. Let any
one definf: a cause, without comprehending, as a part of the
d efinition, a necessary connexion with its effect ; and let him
96 AN ENQUIRV CONCERNING [Sect. VI n. Part It.
show distinctl y the origin of the idea, expr essed hy the
definition ; and I shall readily give up the whole con;
troversy. _ But if the foregoing explication of the matter
be received, this must be absolutely impracticable. Had
not objects a regular conjunction with each other, we
should never have entertained any notion of cause and
effect ; and this regular conjunction produces that inference
of the understanding, which is the only connexion, that we
can have any comprehension of. Whoever attempts a de-
finition of cause, exclusive of these circumstances, will be
obliged either to employ unintelligible terms or such as
are synonymous to the term which he endeavours to define*.
And if the definition above mentioned be admitted ; liberty,
when opposed to necessity, not to constraint, is the same
thing with chance ; which is universally allowed to have no
existence.
Part II.
75 There is no method of reasoning more common, and
yet none more blameable, than, in philosophical disputes,
to endeavour the refutation of any hypothesis, by a pretence
of its dangerous consequences to religion and morality.
When any opinion leads to absurdities, it is certainly false ;
but it is not certain that an opinion is false, because it is
of dangerous consequence. Such topics, therefore, ought
entirely to be forborne ; as serving nothing to the discovery
of truth, but only to make the person of an antagonist
' odious. This I observe in general, without pretending to
* Thus, if a cause be defined, ?Aa/ TO^iVA^y(7cf«f«a«y/AjK^; itiseasy
to observe, that producing is synoninaous to causing. In like manner,
if a cause be defined, that by which, any thing exists ; this is liable to the
same objection. For what is meant by these words, by which\ Had
it been said, that a cause is that after which any thing constantly exists;
we should have understood the terms. For this is, indeed, all we know
of the matter. And this constancy forms the very essence ot necessity,
nor have we any other idea of it.
Sect, vni. Part 11.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 97
draw any advantage from it. I frankly submit to an
examination of this kind, and shall venture to affirm that
the doctrines, both of necessity and of liberty, as above
explained, are not only consistent with morality, but are
absolutely essential to its support.
Necessity may be defined two ways, conformably to the
two definitions of cause, of which it makes an essential part.
It consists either in the constant conjunction of like objects,
or in the inference of the understanding from one object
to another. Now necessity, in both these senses, (which,
indeed, are at bottom the same) has universally, though
tacitly, in the schools, in the pulpit, and in common life,
been allowed to belong to the will of man ; and no one
has ever pretended to deny that we can draw inferences
concerning human actions, and that those inferences are
founded on the experienced union of like actions, with like
motives, inclinations, and circumstances. The only par-
ticular in which any one can differ, is, that either, perhaps,
he will refuse to give the name of necessity to this property
of human actions : But as long as the meaning is understood,
I hope the word can do no harm : Or that he will maintain
it possible to discover something farther in the operations
of matter. But this, it must be acknowledged, can be of
no consequence to morality or religion, whatever it may be
to natural philosophy or metaphysics. We may here be
mistaken in asserting that there is no idea of any other
necessity or connexion in the actions of body : But surely
we ascribe nothing to the actions of the mind, but what
everyone does, and must readily allow of We change no
circumstance in the received orthodox system with regard
to the will, but only in that with regard to material objects
and causes. Nothing, therefore, can be more innocent, at
least, than this doctrine.
76 All laws being founded on rewards and punishments, it
is supposed as a fundamental principle, that these motives
H
98 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. VIII, Part n.
have a regular and uniform influence on the mind, and
both produce the good and prevent the evil actions. We
may give to this influence what name we please ; but, as it
is usually conjoined with the action, it must be esteemed
a cause, and be looked upon as an instance of that necessity,
which we would here establish.
The only proper object of hatred or vengeance is a
person or creature, endowed with thought and conscious-
ness; and when any criminal or injurious actions excite
that passion, it is only by their relation to the person, or
connexion with him. Actions are, by their very nature,
temporary and perishing; and where they proceed not
from some cause in the character and disposition of the
person who performed them, they can neither redound to
his honour, if good; nor infamy, if evil. The actions
themselves may be blameable ; they may be contrary to all
the rules of morality and religion: But the person is not
answerable for them ; and as they proceeded from nothing
in him that is durable and constant, and leave nothing of
that nature behind them, it is impossible he can, upon their
account, become the object of punishment or vengeance.
According to the principle, therefore, which denies necessity,
and consequently causes, a man is as pure and untainted,
after having committed the most horrid crime, as at the
first moment of his birth, nor is his character anywise
concerned in his actions, since they are not derived from
it, and the wickedness of the one can never be used as
a proof of the depravity of the other.
Men are not blamed for such actions as they perform
ignorantly and casually, whatever may be the consequences.
Why ? but because the principles of these actions are only
momentary, and terminate in them alone. Men are less
blamed for such actions as they perform hastily and unpre-
meditately than for such as proceed from deliberation. For
what reason ? but because a hasty temper, though a constant
Sect.VIII,PartII.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 99
cause or principle in the mind, operates only by intervals,
and infects not the whole character. Again, repentance
wipes off every crime, if attended with a reformation of Hfe
and manners. How is this to be accounted for ? but by
asserting that actions render a person criminal merely as
they are proofs of criminal principles in the mind; and
when, by an alteration of these principles, they cease to
be just proofs, they likewise cease to be criminal. But,
except upon the doctrine of necessity, they never were just
proofs, and consequently never were criminal.
77 It will be equally easy to prove, and from the same
arguments, that liberty, according to that definition above
mentioned, in which all men agree, is also essential to
morality, and that no human actions, where it is wanting,
are susceptible of any moral qualities, or can be the objects
either of approbation or dislike. For as actions are objects
of our moral sentiment, so far only as they are indications
of the internal character, passions, and affections; it is
impossible that they can give rise either to praise or blame,
where they proceed not from these principles, but are
derived altogether from external violence.
78 I pretend not to have obviated or removed all objections
to this theory, with regard to necessity and liberty. I can
foresee other objections, derived from topics which have
not here been treated of. It may be said, for instance,
that, if voluntary actions be subjected to the same laws of
necessity with the operations of matter, there is a continued
chain of necessary causes, pre-ordained and pre-determined,
reaching from the original cause of all to every single
volition of every human creature. No contingency any-
where in the universe ; no indifference ; no liberty. While
we act, we are, at the same time, acted upon. The
ultimate Author of all our volitions is the Creator of the
world, who first bestowed motion on this immense machine,
and placed all beings in that particular positfon, whence
lOO AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. VIII, Part ir.
every subsequent event, by an inevitable necessity, must
result. Human actions, therefore, either can have no
moral turpitude at all, as proceeding from so good a cause ;
0r if they have any turpitude, they must involve our Creator
in the same guilt, while he is acknowledged to be their
ultimate cause and author. For as a man, who fired a mine,
is answerable for all the consequences whether the train he
employed be long or short ; so wherever a continued chain
of necessary causes is fixed, that Being, either finite or
infinite, who produces the first, is likewise the author of all
the rest, and must both bear the blame and acquire the
praise which belong to them. Our clear and unalterable
ideas of morality establish this rule, upon unquestionable
reasons, when we examine the consequences of any
human action; and these reasons must still have greater
force when applied to the volitions and intentions of
a Being infinitely wise and powerful. Ignorance or impo-
tence may be pleaded for so limited a creature as man ;
but those imperfections have no place in our Creator. He
foresaw, he ordained, he intended all those actions of men,
which we so rashly pronounce criminal. And we must
therefore conclude, either that they are not criminal, or
that the Deity, not man, is accountable for them. But as
either of these positions is absurd and impious, it follows,
that the doctrine from which they are deduced cannot
possibly be true, as being liable to all the same objections.
An absurd consequence, if necessary, proves the original
doctrine to be absurd ; in the same manner as criminal
actions render criminal the original cause, if the connexion
between them be necessary and evitable.
This objection consists of two parts, which we shall
examine separately j First, that, if human actions can be
traced up, by a necessary chain, to the Deity, they can never
be criminal ; on account of the infinite perfection of that
Being from whom they are derived, and who can intend
Sect. VIII, Part U.J HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. loi
nothing but what is altogether good and laudable. Or,
Secondly, if they be criminal, we must retract the attribute
of perfection, which we ascribe to the Deity, and must
acknowledge him to be the ultimate author of guilt and
moral turpitude in all his creatures.
79 The answer to the first objection seems obvious and con^
vincing. There are many philosophers who, after an exact
scrutiny of all the phenomena of nature, conclude, that
the WHOLE, considered as one system, is, in every period of
its existence, ordered with perfect benevolence; and that
the utmost possible happiness will, in the end, result to all
created beings, without any mixture of positive or absolute
ill or misery. Every physical ill, say they, makes an
essential part of this benevolent system, and could not
possibly be removed, even by the Deity himself, considered
as a wise agent, without giving entrance to greater ill, or
excluding greater good, which will result from it. From
this theory, some philosophers, and the ancient Stoics
among the rest, derived a topic of consolation under all
afflictions, while they taught their pupils that those ills
under which they laboured were, in reality, goods to the
universe ; and that to an enlarged view, which could com-
prehend the whole system of nature, every event became
an object of joy and exultation. But though this topic be
specious and sublime, it was soon found in practice weak
and ineffectual. You would surely more irritate than
appease a man lying under the racking pains of the gout
by preaching up to him the rectitude of those general laws,-^.,
which produced the malignant humours in his body, and ;
led them through the proper canals, to the sinews and /
nerves, where they now excite such acute torments. These '
enlarged views may, for a moment, please the imagination
of a speculative man, who is placed in ease and security ;
but neither can they dwell with constancy on his mind, even
though undisturbed by the emotions of pain or passion ;
102 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect.Vin.Pattll.
much less can they maintain their ground when attacked
by such powerful antagonists. The affections take a
narrower and more natural survey of their object ; and by
an economy, more suitable to the infirmity of human minds,
regard alone the beings around us, and are actuated by
such events as appear good or ill to the private system.
80 The case is the same with moral as with physical ill. It
cannot reasonably be supposed, that those remote con-
siderations, which are found of so little efficacy with regard
to one, will have a more powerful influence with regard
to the other. The mind of man is so formed by nature
that, upon the appearance of certain characters, dispositions,
and actions, it immediately feels the sentiment of appro-
bation or blame ; nor are there any emotions more essential
to its frame and constitution. The characters which engage
our approbation are chiefly such as contribute to the peace
and security of human society; as the characters which
excite blame are chiefly such as tend to public detriment
and disturbance : Whence it may reasonably be presumed,
that the moral sentiments arise, either mediately or im-
mediately, from a reflection of these opposite interests.
What though philosophical meditations establish a different
opinion or conjecture ; that everything is right with regard
to the WHOLE, and that the qualities, which disturb society,
are, in the main, as beneficial, and are as suitable to the
primary intention of nature as those which more directly
promote its happiness and welfare ? Are such remote and
uncertain speculations able to counterbalance the senti-
ments which arise from the natural and immediate view of
the objects ? A man who is robbed of a considerable sum ;
does he find his vexation for the loss anywise diminished
by these sublime reflections ? Why then should his moral
resentment against the crime be supposed incompatible
with them? Or why should not the acknowledgment of
a real distinction between vice and virtue be reconcileable
Sect. VIII. Part II.1 HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 1 03
to all speculative systems of philosophy, as well as that of 1
a real distinction between personal beauty and deformity ? I
Both these distinctions are founded in the natural senti- i
ments ofjthe human mind : And these sentiments are not ,'
to be controuled or altered by any philosophical theory or j
speculation whatsoever.
81 The second objection admits not of so easy and satis-
factory an answer ; nor is it possible to explain distinctly,
how the Deity can be the mediate cause of all the actions
of men, without being the author of sin and moral turpitude.
These are mysteries, which mere natural and unassisted
reason is very unfit to handle j and whatever system she
embraces, she must find herself involved in inextricable
difficulties, and even contradictions, at every step which she
takes with regard to such subjects. To reconcile the in-
difference and contingency of human actions with prescience ;
or to defend absolute decrees, and yet free the Deity from
being the author of sin, has been found hitherto to exceed
all the power- of philosophy. Happy, if she be thence
sensible of her temerity, when she pries into these sublime
mysteries ; and leaving a scene so full of obscurities and
perplexities, return, with suitable modesty, to her true and
proper province, the examination of common life; where
she will find difficulties enough to employ her enquiries,
without launching into ^o boundless an ocean of doubt,
uncertainty, and contradiction !
A
SECTION IX.
OF THE REASON OF ANIMALS.
82 All our reasonings concerning matter of fact are founded
on a species of Analogy, which leads us to expect from any
cause the same events, which we have observed to result
from similar causes. Where the causes are entirely similar,
the analogy is perfect, and the inference, drawn from it, is
regarded as certain and conclusive : nor does any man ever
entertain a doubt, where he sees a piece of iron, that it will
have weight and cohesion of parts ; as in all other instances,
which have ever fallen under his observation. But where
the objects have not so exact a similarity, the analogy
is less perfect, and the inference is less conclusive j though
still it has some force, in proportion to the degree of
similarity and resemblance. The anatomical observations,
formed upon one animal, are, by this species of reasoning,
extended to all animals ; and it is certain, that when the
circulation of the blood, for instance, is clearly proved to
have place in one creature, as a frog, or fish, it forms a strong
presumption, that the same principle has place in all. These
analogical observations may be carried farther, even to this
science, of which we are now treating ; and any theory, by
which we explain the operations of the understanding, or
the origin and connexion of the passions in man, will
acquire additional authority, if we find, that the same theory
is requisite to explain the same phenomena in all other
animals. We shall make trial of this, with regard to the
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 105
hypothesis, by which we have, in the foregoing discourse,
endeavoured to account for all experimental reasonings;
and it is hoped, that this new point of view will serve to
confirm all our former observations.
83 First, It seems evident, that animals as well as men learn
many things from experience, and infer, that the same events
will always follow from the same causes. By this principle
they become acquainted with the more obvious properties
of external objects, and gradually, from their birth, treasure
up a knowledge of the nature of fire, water, earth, stones,
heights, depths, &c., and of the effects which result from
their operation. The ignorance and inexperience of the
young are here plainly distinguishable from the cunning and
sagacity of the old, who have learned, by long observation,
to avoid what hurt them, and to pursue what gave ease or
pleasure. A horse, that has been accustomed to the field,
becomes acquainted with the proper height which he can
leap, and will never attempt what exceeds his force and
ability. An old greyhound will trust the more fatiguing
part of the chace to the younger, and will place himself so
as to meet the hare in her doubles ; nor are the conjectures,
which he forms on this occasion, founded in any thing but
his observation and experience.
This is still more evident from the effects of discipline
and education on animals, who, by the proper application
of rewards and punishments, may be taught any course of
action, and most contrary to their natural instincts and
propensities. Is it not experience, which renders a dog
apprehensive of pain, when you menace him, or lift up the
whip to beat him ? Is it not even experience, which makes
him answer to his name, and infer, from such an arbitrary
sound, that you mean him rather than any of his fellows, and
intend to call him, when you pronounce it in a certain
manner, and with a certain tone and accent ?
In all these cases, we may observe, that the animal infers
io6 AI^ ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. IX.
some fact beyond what immediately strikes his senses ; and
that this inference is altogether founded on past experience,
while the creature expects from the present object the same
consequences, which it has always found in its observation
to result from similar objects.
84 Secondly, It is impossible, that this inference of the animal
can be founded on any process of argument or reasoning,
by which he concludes, that like events must follow like
objects, and that the course of nature will always be regular
in its operations. For if there be in reality any arguments
of this nature, they surely lie too abstruse for the observation
of such imperfect understandings ; since it may well employ
the utmost care and attention of a philosophic genius to
discover and observe them. Animals, therefore, are not
guided in these inferences by reasoning : Neither are
children : Neither are the generality of mankind, in their
ordinary actions and conclusions : Neither are philosophers
themselves, who, in all the active parts of life, are, in the
main, the same with the vulgar, and are governed by the
same maxims. Nature must have provided some other
principle, of more ready, and more general use and applica-
tion ; nor can an operation of such immense consequence in
life, as that of inferring effects from causes, be trusted to
the uncertain process of reasoning and argumentation.
Were this doubtful with regard to men, it seems to admit
of no question with regard to the brute creation ; and the
conclusion being once firmly established in the one, we have
a strong presumption, from all the rules of analogy, that
it ought to be universally admitted, without any exception
or reserve. It is custom alone, which engages animals,
from every object, that strikes their senses, to infer its
usual attendant, and carries their imagination, from the
appearance of the one, to conceive the other, in that
particular manner, which we denominate belief. No other
explication can be given of this operation, in all the higher.
Sect. IX.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 107
as well as lower classes of sensitive beings, which fall under
our notice and observation \
' Since all reasonings concerning facts or causes is derived merely
from custom, it may be asked how it happens, that men so much surpass
animals in reasoning, and one man so much surpasses another? Has
not the same custom the same influence on all ?
We shall here endeavour briefly to explain the great difference in
human understandings : After vrhich the reason of the difference Ijetween
men and animals will easily be comprehended.
1. When we have lived any time, and have been accustomed to the
uniformity of nature, we acquire a general habit, by which we always
transfer the known to the unknown, and conceive the latter to resemble
the former. By means of this general habitual principle, we regard even
one experiment as the foundation of reasoning, and expect a similar
event with some degree of certainty, where the experiment has been
made accurately, and free from all foreign circumstances. It is there-
fore considered as a matter of great importance to observe the con-
sequences of things ; and as one man may very much surpass another in
attention and memory and observation, this will make a very great
difference in their reasoning.
2. Where there is a complication of causes to produce any effect, one
mind may be much larger than another, and better able to comprehend
the whole system of objects, and to infer justly their consequences.
3. One man is able to carry on a chain of consequences to a greater
length than another.
4. Few men can think long without running into a confusion of ideas,
and mistaking one for another ; and there are various degrees of this
infirmity.
5. The circumstance, on which the effect depends, is frequently
involved in other circumstances, which are foreign and extrinsic. The
separation of it often requires great attention, accuracy, and subtilty.
6. The forming of general maxims from particular observation is
a very nice operation ; and nothing is more usual, from haste or
a narrowness of mind, which sees not on all sides, than to commit
mistakes in this particular.
7. When we reason from analogies, the man, who has the greater
experience or the greater promptitude of suggesting analogies, will be
the better reasoner.
8. Byasses from prejudice, education, passion, party, &c. hang more
upon one mind than another,
9. After we have acquired a confidence in human testimony, books
and conversation enlarge much more the sphere of one man's experience
and thought than those of another.
It would be easy to discover many other circumstances that make
a difference in the understandings of men.
io8 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING.
85 But though animals learn many parts of their knowledge
from observation, there are also many parts of it, which
they derive from the original hand of nature ; which much
exceed the share of capacity they possess on ordinary
occasions ; and in which they improve, little or nothing, by
the longest practice and experience. These we denominate
Instincts, and are so apt to admire as something very extra-
ordinary, and inexplicable by all the disquisitions of human
understanding. But our wonder will, perhaps, cease or
diminish, when we consider, that the experimental reason-
ing itself, which we possess in common with beasts, and on
which the whole conduct of life depends, is nothing but
a species of instinct or mechanical power, that acts in us
unknown to ourselves ; and in its chief operations, is not
directed by any such relations or comparisons of ideas,
as are the proper objects of our intellectual faculties.
Though the instinct be different, yet still it is an instinct,
which teaches a man to avoid the fire ; as much as that,
which teaches a bird, with such exactness, the art of in-
cubation, and the whole economy and order of its nursery.
SECTION X.
OF MIRACLES.
Part I.
86 There is, in Dr. Tillotson's writings, an argument against
the real presence, which is as concise, and elegant, and
strong as any argument can possibly be supposed against
a doctrine, so little worthy of a serious refutation. It is
acknowledged on all hands, says that learned prelate, that
the authority, either of the scripture or of tradition, is
founded merely in the testimony of the apostles, who were
eye-witnesses to those miracles of our Saviour, by which he
proved his divine mission. Our evidence, then, for the
truth of the Christian religion is less than the evidence for
the truth of our senses j because, even in the first authors of
our religion, it was no greater; and it is evident it must
diminish in passing from them to their disciples ; nor can
any one rest such confidence in their testimony, as in the
immediate object of his senses. But a weaker evidence can
never destroy a stronger ; and therefore, were the doctrine
of the real presence ever so clearly revealed in scripture, it
were directly contrary to the rules of just reasoning to give
our assent to it. It contradicts sense, though both the
scripture and tradition, on which it is supposed to be built,
carry not such evidence with them as sense ; when they are
considered merely as external evidences, and are not brought
home to every one's breast, by the immediate operation of
the Holy Spirit.
no AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. X, Part I.
Nothing is so convenient as a decisive argument of
this kind, which must at least siknce the most arrogant
bigotry and superstition, and free us from their impertinent
solicitations. I flatter myself, that I have discovered an
argument of a like nature, which, if just, will, with the wise
and learned, be an everlasting check to all kinds of super-
stitious delusion, and consequently, will be useful as long as
the world endures. For so long, I presume, will the accounts
of miracles and prodigies be found in all history, sacred and
profane.
87 Though experience be our only guide in reasoning
concerning matters of fact; it must be acknowledged,
that this guide is not altogether infallible, but in some
cases is apt to lead us into errors. One, who in our climate,
should expect better weather in any week of June than in
one of December, would reason justly, and conformably to
experience; but it is certain, that he may happen, in the
event, to find himself mistaken. However, we may observe,
that, in such a case, he would have no cause to complain of
experience ; because it commonly informs us beforehand of
the uncertainty, by that contrariety of events, which we may
learn from a diligent observation. All effectsfollow not with
like certainty frraijheir supposed causes. Some events are
'lound,~ui~aTI countries aricTalTages, to have been con-
stantly conjoined together: Others are found to have
been more variable, and sometimes to disappoint our
expectations ; so that, in our reasonings concerning matter
of fact, there are all imaginable degrees of assurance,
from the highest certainty to the lowest species of moral
evidence.
A wise man, therefore, proportions his belief to the
evidence. In such conclusions as are founded on an
infallible experience, he expects the event with the last
degree of assurance, and regards his past experience as a
full proof of the future existence of that event. In other
Sect. X, Part I.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 1 1 1
cases, he proceeds with more caution : He weighs the
opposite experiments : He considers which side is sup-
ported by the greater number of experiments : to that
side he inclines, with doubt and hesitation; and when at
last he fixes his judgement, the evidence exceeds not what
we properly cs^ probability. All probabihty, then, supposes
an opposition of experiments and observations, where the
one side is found to overbalance the other, and to produce
a degree of evidence, proportioned to the superiority.
A hundred instances or experiments on one side, and fifty
on another, afford a doubtful expectation of any event;
though a hundred uniform experiments, with only one that
is contradictory, reasonably beget a pretty strong degree
of assurance. In all cases, we must balance the opposite i
experiments, where they are opposite, and deduct thej
smaller number from the greater, in order to know the exact J
force of the superior evidence.
88 To apply these principles to a particular instance ; we may''
observe, that there is no species of reasoning more common,!
morfe useful, and even necessary to human life, than thati
which is derived from the testimony of men, and the reports
of eye-witnesses and spectators. This species of reasoning,
perhaps, one may deny to be founded on the relation of cause
and effect. I shall not dispute about a word. It will be
sufiScient to observe that our assurance in any argument
of this kind is derived from no other principle than our
observation of the veracity of human testimony, and of the
usual conformity of facts to the reports of witnesses. It j
being a general maxim, that no objects have any dis-
coverable connexion together, and that all the inferences,]
which we can draw from one to another, are founded merely!
on our experience of their constant and regular conjunction ;]
it is evident, that we ought not to make an exception to this
maxim in favour of human testimony, whose connexion
with any event seems, in itself, as little necessary as any other.
1 1 a AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. X, Part I.
Were not the memory tenacious to a certain degree ; had
not men commonly an inclination to truth and a principle
of probity ; were they not sensible to shame, when detected
in a falsehood: Were not these, I say, discovered by
experience to be qualities, inherent in human nature, we
should never repose the least confidence in human testi-
mony. A man delirious, or noted for falsehood and villany,
has no manner of authority with us.
And as the evidence, derived from witnesses and human
\ testimony, is founded on past experience, so it varies with
the experience, and is regarded either as 2, proof ox z.proba-
1 bility, according as the conjunction between any particular
kind of report and any kind of object has been found to be
constant or variable. There are a number of circumstances
to be taken into consideration in all judgements of this kind ;
and the ultimate standard, by which we determine all
disputes, that may arise concerning them, is always derived
from experience and observation. Where this experience
is not entirely uniform on any side, it is attended with an
unavoidable contrariety in our judgements, and with' the
same opposition and mutual destruction of argument as in
every other kind of evidence. We frequently hesitate
concerning the reports of others. We balance the opposite
circumstances, which cause any doubt or uncertainty ; and
when we discover a superiority on any side, we incline to it ; I
but still with a diminution of assurance, in proportion to the
force of its antagonist.
89 This contrariety of evidence, in the present case, may be >
derived from several different causes ; from the opposition '
of contrary testimony ; from the character or number of thejj
witnesses ; from the manner of their delivering their testi- 1
/ mony ; or from the union of all these circumstances. We |
entertain a suspicion concerning any matter of fact, when
the witnesses contradict each other ; when they are but
few, or of a doubtful character ; when they have an interest
Sect. X, Part 10 HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 1 1 3
in what they afifirm ; when they deliver their testimony with
hesitation, or on the contrary, with too violent asseverations.
There are many other particulars of the same kind, which
may diminish or destroy the force of any argument, derived
from human testimony.
Suppose, for instance, that the fact, which the testimony
endeavours to establish, partakes of the extraordinary and
the marvellous ; in that case, the evidence, resulting from
the testimony, admits of a diminution, greater or less, in
proportion as the fact is more or less unusual. The reason
why we place any credit in witnesses and historians, is «•
not derived from any connexion, which we perceive a
priori, between testimony and reality, but because we are
accustomed to find a conformity between them. But when
the fact attested is such a one as has seldom fallen under
our observation, here is a contest of two opposite experi-
ences; of which the one destroys the other, as far as its
force goes, and the superior can only operate on the mind
by the force, which remains. The very same principle of
experience, which gives us a certain degree of assurance in
the testimony of witnesses, gives us also, in this case,
another degree of assurance against the fact, which they
endeavour to establish ; from which contradition there
necessarily arises a counterpoize, and mutual destruction of
belief and authority.
I should not believe such a story were it told me by Cato,
was a proverbial saying in Rome,- even during the lifetime
of that philosophical patriot'- The incredibility of a fact,
it was allowed, might invalidate so great an authority.
The Indian prince, who refused to believe the first
relations concerning the effects of frost, reasoned justly;
and it naturally required very strong testimony to engage
his assent to facts, that arose from a state of nature,
with which he was unacquainted, and which bore so little
* Plutarch, in vita Catonis.
f
114 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. X, Part I.
analogy to those events, of which he had had constant and
uniform experience. Though they were not contrary to his
experience, they were not conformable to it ^
90 But in order to encrease the probability against the
testimony of witnesses, let us suppose, that the fact, which
they afifirm, instead of being only marvellous, is really
miraculous ; and suppose also, that the testimony considered
apart and in itself, amounts to an entire proof; in that
case, there is proof against proof, of which the strongest
must prevail, but still with a diminution of its force, in pro-
portion to that of its antagonist.
A miracle is a vir j^jtinp pf the laws of natures and as
a firm arid unalterable experience has established these laws,
the proof against a miracle, from the very nature of the fact,
is as entire as any argument from experience can possibly
be imagined. Why is it more than probable, that all men
must die ; that lead cannot, of itself, remain suspended in
the air; that fire consumes wood, and is extinguished by
water ; unless it be, that these events are found agreeable
' No Indian, it is evident, could have experience that vyater did not
freeze in cold climates. This is placing nature in a situation quite
unknown to him ; and it is impossible for him to tell a priori what will
result from it. It is making a new experiment, the consequence of
which is always uncertain. One may sometimes conjecture from
analogy what will follow ; but still this is but conjecture. And it must
be confessed, that, in the present case of freezing, the event follows
contrary to the rules of analogy, and is such as a rational Indian would
not look for. The operations of cold upon water are not gradual,
according to the degrees of cold ; but whenever it comes to the freezing
point, the water passes in a moment, fiom the utmost liquidity to
perfect hardness. Such an event, therefore, may be denominated extra-
ordinary, and requires a pretty strong testimony, to render it credible to
people in a warm climate : But still it is not miraculous, nor contrary
to uniform experience of the course of nature in cases where all the
circumstances are the same. The inhabitants of Sumatra have always
seen water fluid in their own climate, and the freezing of their rivers
ought to be deemed a prodigy : But they never saw water in Muscovy
during the winter ; and therefore they cannot reasonably be positive what
would there be the consequence.
Seel. X, Part I.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 1 1 5
to the laws of nature, and there is required a violation of
these laws, or in other words, a miracle to prevent them ?
Nothing is esteemed a miracle, if it ever happen in the
common course of nature. It is no miracle that a man,
seemingly in good health, should die on a sudden : because
such a kind of death, though more unusual than any other,
has yet been frequently observed to happen. But it is
a miracle, that a dead man should come to life; because
that has never been observed in any age or country. There
must, therefore, be a uniform experience against every
miraculous event, otherwise the event would not merit that '
appellation. And as a uniform experience amounts to a
' proof, there is here a direct and full proof, from the nature
of the fact, against the existence of any miracle ; nor can
such a proof be destroyed, or the miracle rendered credible,
but by an opposite proof, which is superior '.
91 The plain consequence is (and it is a general maxim
worthy of our attention), ' That no testimony is sufficient
* Sometimes an event may not, in itself, seem to be contrary to the laws
of nature, and yet, if it were real, it might, by reason of some circum-
stances, be denominated a miracle ; because, in faQt, it is contrary tb
these laws. Thus if a person, claiming a divine authority, should
command a sick person to be well, a healthful man to fall down dead,
the clouds to pour rain, thp winds to blow, in short, should order many
natural events, which immediately follow upon his command ; these
might justly be esteemed miracles, because they are really, in this case,
contrary to the laws of nature. For if any suspicion remain, that the
event and command concurred by accident, there is no miracle and no
transgression of the laws of nature. If this suspicion be removed, there
is evidently a miracle, and a transgression of these laws ; because nothing .
can be more contrary to nature than that the voice or command of a man
,should have such aii influence. I A miracle may be accurately defined,
)a transgression of a law of nature by a particular volition of the Deity,
]pr by the interposition of some invisible agent. { A miracle tnay either be
/discoverable by. men or not.| This alters not its nature and essence.
[The raising of a house or ship into the air is a visible miracle. The
raising of a feather, when the wind wants ever so little of a force
requisite for that purpose, is as real a miracle, though not so sensible
with regard to us,
I 9
1 1 6 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. X, Part 11.
to establish a miracle, unless the testimony be of such
a kind, that its falsehood would be more miraculous, than
the fact, which it endeavours to establish ; and even in
that case there is a mutual destruction of arguments, and
the superior only gives us an assurance suitable to that
degree of force, which remains, after deducting the inferior.'
When anyone tells me, that he saw a dead man restored
to life, I immediately consider with myself, whether it be
more probable, that this person should either deceive or be
deceived, or that the fact, which he relates, should really
have happened. I weigh the one miracle against the other;
and according to the superiority, which I discover, I pro-
nounce my decision, and always reject the greater miracle.
If the falsehood of his testimony would be more miraculous,
than the event which he relates; then, and not till then,
can he pretend to command my belief or opinion.
Part II.
92 In the foregoing reasoning we have supposed, that the
testimony, upon which a miracle is founded, may possibly
amount to an entire proof, and that the falsehood of that
testimony would be a real prodigy : But it is easy to shew,
that we have been a great deal too liberal in our concession,
and that there never was a miraculous event established on
so full an evidence.
For first, there is not to be found, in all history, any
miracle attested by a sufficient number of men, of such
unquestioned good-sense, education, and learning, as to
secure us against all delusion in themselves ; of such un-
doubted integrity, as to place them beyond all suspicion of
any design to deceive others ; of such credit and reputation
in the eyes of mankind, as to have a great deal to lose in
case of their being detected in any falsehood ; and at the
same time, attesting facts performed in such a public manner
and in so celebrated a part of the world, as to render the
Sect. X, Part II.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. I17
detection unavoidable : All which circumstances are re-
quisite to give us a full assurance in the testimony of men.
93 Secondly. We may observe in human nature a principle
which, if strictly examined, will be found to diminish
extremely the assurance, which we might, from human
testimony, have, in any kind of prodigy. The maxim, by
which we commonly conduct ourselves in our reasonings,
is, that the objects, of which we have no experience, resembles
those, of which we have; that what we have found to be^
most usual is always most probable ; and that where there -
is an opposition of arguments, we ought to give the preference
to such as are founded on the greatest number of past
observations. But though, in proceeding by this rule, we-
readily reject any fact which is unusual and incredible in an
ordinary degree ; yet in advancing farther, the mind observes .
not always the same rule ; but when anything is affirmed
utterly absurd and miraculous, it rather the more readily •
admits of such a fact, upon account of that very circum-
stance, which ought to destroy all its authority. The
passion of surprise and wonder, arising from miracles, being
— an agreeable emotion, gives a sensible tendency towards the
belief of those events, from which it is derived. And this
goes so far, that even those who cannot enjoy this pleasure
immediately, nor can believe those miraculous events, of
which they are informed, yet love to partake of the satisfac-
tion at Second-hand or by rebound, and place a pride and
delight in exciting the admiration of others.
With what greediness are the miraculous accounts of
travellers received, their descriptions of sea and land
monsters, their relations of wonderful adventures, strange
men, and uncouth manners? But if the spirit of religion
join itself to the love of wonder, there is an end of common
sense ; and human testimony, in these circumstances, loses
all pretensions to authority. A religionist may be an
enthusiast,, and imagine he sees what has no reality : he may
/
1 1 8 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING (Sect. X, Part II.
know his narrative to be false, and yet persevere in it, with
the best intentions in the world, for the sake of promoting
so holy a cause : or even where this delusion has not
place, vanity, excited by so strong a temptation, operates on
him more powerfully than on the rest of mankind in any
other circumstances; and self-interest with equal force.
His auditors may not have, and commonly have not, suf-
ficient judgement to canvass his evidence : what judgement
•they have, they renounce by principle, in these sublime
and mysterious subjects : or if they were ever so willing
to employ it, passion and a heated imagination disturb
the regularity of its operations. Their credulity increases
his impudence : and his impudence overpowers their
credulity.
Eloquence, when at its highest pitch, leaves little room
for reason or reflection ; but addressing itself entirely to the
fancy or the affections, captivates the willing hearers, and
subdues their understanding. Happily, this pitch it seldom
attains. But what a TuUy or a Demosthenes could scarcely
effect over a Roman or Athenian audience, every Capuchin,
every itinerant or stationary teacher can perform over the
generality of mankind, and in a higher degree, by touching
such gross and vulgar passions.
The many instances of forged miracles, and prophecies,
and supernatural events, which, in all ages, have either been
detected by contrary evidence, or which detect themselves
by their absurdity, prove sufficiently the strong propensity
of mankind to the extraordinary and the marvellous, and
ought reasonably to beget a suspicion against all relations
of this kind. This is our natural way of thinking, even
with regard to the most common and most credible events.
For instance : There is no kind of report which rises so
easily, and spreads so quickly, especially in country places
and provincial towns, as those concerning marriages ; inso-
much that two young persons of equal condition never see
Sect. X, Part II.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 1 19
each other twice, but the whole neighbourhood immediately
join them together. The pleasure of telling a piece of news
so interesting, of propagating it, and of being the first
reporters of it, spreads the intelligence. And this is so well
known, that no man of sense gives attention to these reports,
till he find them confirmed by some greater evidence. Do
not the same passions, and others still stronger, incline the
generality of mankind to believe and report, with the
greatest vehemence and assurance, all religious miracles ?
94 Thirdly. It forms a strong presumption against all
supernatural and miraculous relations, that they are ob-
served chiefly to abound among ignorant and barbarous
nations ; or if a civilized people has ever given admission to
any of them, that people will be found to have received
them from ignorant and barbarous ancestors, who trans-
mitted them with that inviolable sanction and authority,
which always attend received opinions. When we peruse
the first histories of all nations, we are apt to imagine our-
selves transported into some new world; where the whole
frame of nature is disjointed, and every element performs
its operations in a different manner, from what it does at
present. Battles, revolutions, pestilence, famine and death,
are never the effect of those natural causes, which we
experience. Prodigies, omens, oracles, judgements, quite
obscure the few natural events, that are intermingled with
them. But as the former grow thinner every page, in
proportion as we advance nearer the enlightened ages, we
soon learn, that there is nothing mysterious or supernatural
in the case, but that all proceeds from the usual propensity
of mankind towards the marvellous, and that, though this
inclination may afintervals receive a check from sense and
learning, it can never be thoroughly extirpated from human
nature.
It is strange, a judicious reader is apt to say, upon the
perusal of these wonderful historians, that such prodigious
laO AN ENQUIRY CONCERMNG [Sect. X, Part II.
events never happen in our days. But it is nothing strange,
I hope, that men should He in all ages. You must surely
Tiave seen instances enough of that frailty. You have your-
self heard many such marvellous relations started, which,
being treated with scorn by all the wise and judicious, have
at last been abandoned even by the vulgar. Be assured,
that those renowned lies, which have spread and flourished
to such a monstrous height, arose from like beginnings;
but being sown in a more proper soil, shot up at last into
prodigies almost equal to those which they relate.
It was a wise policy in that false prophet, Alexander, who
though now forgotten, was once so famous, to lay the first
scene of his impostures in Paphlagonia, where, as Lucian
tells us, the people were extremely ignorant and stupid, and
ready to swallow even the grossest delusion. People at
a distance, who are weak enough to think the matter at all
worth enquiry, have no opportunity of receiving better infor-
mation. The stories come magnified to them by a hundred
circumstances. Fools are industrious in propagating ^he
imposture; while the wise and learned are contented, in
general, to deride its absurdity, without informing themselves
of the particular facts, by which it may be distinctly refuted.
And thus the impostor above mentioned was enabled to
proceed, from his ignorant Paphlagonians, to the enlisting
of votaries, even among the Grecian philosophers, and men
of the most eminent rank and distinction in Rome : nay,
could engage the attention of that sage emperor Marcus
Aurelius ; so far as to make him trust the success of
a military expedition to his delusive prophecies.
The advantages are so great, of starting an imposture
among an ignorant people, that, even though the delusion
should be too gross to impose on the generality of them
{which, though seldom, is sometimes the case) it has a much
better chance for succeeding in remote countries, than if
the first scene had been laid in a city renowned for arts and
Sect. X, Part II.l HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 1 2 1
knowledge. The most ignorant and barbarous of these
barbarians carry the report abroad. None of their country-
men have a large correspondence, or sufficient credit and
authority to contradict and beat down the delusion. Men's
inclination to the marvellous has full opportunity to display
itself. And thus a story, which is universally exploded in
the place where it was first started, shall pass for certain at
a thousand miles distance. But had Alexander fixed his
residence at Athens, the philosophers of that renowned
mart of learning had immediately spread, throughout the
whole Roman empire, their sense of the matter ; which,
being supported by so great authority, and displayed by all
the force of reason and eloquence, had entirely opened the
eyes of mankind. It is true ; Lucian, passing by chance
through Paphlagonia, had an opportunity of performing
this good office. But, though much to be wished, it does
not always happen, that every Alexander meets with a Lucian,
ready to expose and detect his impostures.
96 { may add as a fourth reason, which diminishes the
authority of prodigies, that there is no testimony for any,
even those which have not been expressly detected, that
is not opposed by an infinite number of witnesses ; so that
not only the miracle destroys the credit of testimony, but
the testimony destroys itself To make this the better
understood, let us consider, that, in matters of religion,
whatever is different is contrary ; and that it is impossible
the religions of ancient Rome, of Turkey, of Siam, and of
China should, all of them, be established on any solid
foundation. Every miracle, therefore, pretended to have
been wrought in any of these religions (and all of them
abound in miracles), as its direct scope is to establish the
particular system to which it is attributed; so has it the
same force; though more indirectly, to overthrow every
other system. In destroying a rival system, it likewise
destroys the credit of those miracles, on which that system
122 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. X, Pan II.
was established; so that all the prodigies of different
religions are to be regarded as contrary facts, and the
evidences of these prodigies, whether weak or strong, as
opposite to each other. According to this method of
reasoning, when we believe any miracle of Mahomet or
his successors, we have for our warrant the testimony
of a few barbarous Arabians : And on the other hand, we
are to regard the authority of Titus Livius, Plutarch,
Tacitus, and, in short, of all the authors and witnesses,
Grecian, Chinese, and Roman Catholic, who have related
any miracle in their particular religion; I say, we are to
regard their testimony in the same light as if they had
mentioned that Mahometan miracle, and had in express
terms contradicted it, with the same certainty as they have
for the miracle they relate. This argument may appear
over subtile and refined; but is not in reality different
from the reasoning of a judge, who supposes, that the
credit of two witnesses, maintaining a crime against any
one, is destroyed by the testimony of two others, who
affirm him to have been two hundred leagues distant, at
the same instant when the crime is said to have been
committed.
96 One of the best attested miracles in all profane history,
is that which Tacitus reports of Vespasian, who cured
a blind man in Alexandria, by means of his spittle, and
a lame man by the mere touch of his foot ; in obedience
to a vision of the god Serapis, who had enjoined them to
, have recourse to the Emperor, for these miraculous cures.
The story may be seen in that fine historian ^ ; where every
circumstance seems to add weight to the testimony, and
might be displayed at large with all the force of argument
and eloquence, if any one were now concerned to enforce
the evidence of that exploded and idolatrous superstitioi;i..
' Hist. lib. V. cap. 8. Suetonius gives nearly the same account in vita
Vesp.
Sect. X, Part ir.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 1 2 3
The gravity, solidity, age, and probity of so great an
emperor, who, through the whole course of his life, con-
versed in a familiar manner with his friends and courtiers,
and never affected those extraordinary airs of divinity
assumed by Alexander and Demetrius. The historian,
a cotemporary writer, noted for candour and veracity, and
withal, the greatest and most penetrating genius, perhaps,
of all antiquity; and so free from any tendency to credulity,
that he even lies under the contrary imputation, of atheism
ahd profaneness : The persons, from whose authority he
related the miracle, of established character for judgement
and veracity, as we may well presume ; eye-witnesses of the
fact, and confirming their testimony, after the Flavian
family was despoiled of the empire, and could no longer
give any reward, as the price of a lie. Utrumque, qui
interfuere, nunc quoque memorant, postquam nullum mendado
pretium. To which if we add the public nature of the facts,
as related, it will appear, that no evidence can well be
supposed stronger for so gross and so palpable a falsehood.
There is also a memorable story related by Cardinal de
Retz, which may well deserve our consideration. When
that intriguing politician fled into Spain, to avoid the
persecution of his enemies, he passed through Saragossa,
the capital of Arragon, where he was shewn, in the
cathedral, a man, who had served seven years as a door-
keeper, and was well known to every body in town, that
had ever paid his devotions at that church. He had been
seen, for so long a time, wanting a leg ; but recovered that
limb by the rubbing of holy oil upon the stump ; and the
cardinal assures us that he saw him with two legs. This
miracle was vouched by all the canons of the church ; and
the whole company in town were appealed to for a con-
firmation of the fact j whom the cardinal found, by their
zealous devotion, to be thorough believers of the miracle.
Here the relater was also cotemporary to the supposed
124 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect X.Part II.
prodigy, of an incredulous and libertine character, as well
as of great genius ; the miracle of so singular a nature as
could scarcely admit of a counterfeit, and the witnesses
very numerous, and all of them, in a manner, spectators of
the fact, to which they gave their testimony. And what
adds mightily to the force of the evidence, and may double
our surprise on this occasion, is, that the cardinal himself,
who relates the story, seems not to give any credit to it, and
consequently cannot be suspected of any concurrence in
the holy fraud. He considered justly, that it was not
requisite, in order to reject a fact of this nature, to be
able accurately to disprove the testimony, and to trace its
falsehood, through all the circumstances of knavery and
credulity which produced it. He knew, that, as this was
commonly altogether impossible at any small distance of
time and place; so was it extremely difficult, even where
one was immediately present, by reason of the bigotry,
ignorance, cunning, and roguery of a great part of man-
kind. , He therefore concluded, like a just reasoner, that
such an evidence carried falsehood upon the very face of it,
and that a miracle, supported by any human testimony, was
more properly a subject of derision than of argument.
There surely never was a greater number of miracles
ascribed to one person, than those, which were lately said
to have been wrought in France upon the tomb of Abb6
Paris, the famous Jansenist, with whose sanctity the people
were so long deluded. The curing of the sick, giving
hearing to the deaf, and sight to the blind, were every
where talked of as the usual effects of that holy sepulchre.
But what is more extraordinary ; many of the miracles were
immediately proved upon the spot, before judges of un-
questioned integrity, attested by witnesses of credit and
distinction, in a learned age, and on the most eminent
theatre that is now in the world. Nor is this all : a relation
of them was published and dispersed every where ; nor were
Sect. X, Part 11 .] HUMAN UNDERS TANDING. 1 2 5
the Jesuits, though a learned body, supported by the civil
magistrate, and determined enemies to those opinions, in
whose favour the miracles were said to have been wrought,
ever able distinctly to refute or detect them *. Where shall
we find such a number of circumstances, agreeing to the
corroboration of one fact? And what have we to oppose
to such a cloud of witnesses, but the absolute impossibility
or miraculous nature of the events, which they relate ? And
this surely, in the eyes of all reasonable people, will alone
be regarded as a sufficient refutation.
97 Is the consequence just, because some human testimony
has the utmost force and authority in some cases, when it
relates the battle of Philippi or Pharsalia for instance ; that
therefore all kinds of testimony must, in all cases, have
equal force and authority? Suppose that the Csesarean
and Pompeian factions had, each of them, claimed the
victory in these battles, and that the historians of each
party had uniformly ascribed the advantage to their own
side ; how could mankind, at this distance, have been able
to determine between them? The contrariety is equally
strong between the miracles related by Herodotus or
Plutarch, and those delivered by Mariana, Bede, or any
monkish historian.*
The wise lend a very academic faith to every report
which favours the passion of the reporter; whether it
magnifies his country, his family, or himself, or in any
other way strikes in with his natural inclinations and
propensities. But what greater temptation than to appear
a missionary, a prophet, an ambassador from heaven?
Who would not encounter many dangers and difficulties,
in order to attain so sublime a character? Or if, by the
help of vanity and a heated imagination, a man has first
made a convert of himself, and entered seriously into the
delusion ; who ever scruples to make use of pious frauds,
in support of so holy and meritorious a cause ?
' For Note, see p. 344.
la* AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. X, Part II.
The smallest spark may here kindle into the greatest
flame; because the materials are always prepared for it.
The avidum genus auricularum'^, the gazing populace,
receive greedily, without examination, whatever sooths
superstition, and promotes wonder.
How many stories of this nature have, in all ages, been
detected and exploded in their infancy ? How many more
have been celebrated for a time, and have afterwards sunk
into neglect and oblivion ? Where such reports, therefore,
fly about, the solution of the phenomenon is obvious ; and
we judge in conformity to regular experience and observa-
tion, when we account for it by the known and natural
principles of credulity and delusion. And shall we, rather
than have a recourse to so natural a solution, allow of
a miraculous violation of the most established laws of
nature ?
I need not mention the difficulty of detecting a falsehood
in any private or even public history, at the place, where it
is said to happen ; much more when the scene is removed
to ever so small a distance. Even a court of judicature,
with all the authority, accuracy, and judgement, which they
can employ, find themselves often at a loss to distinguish
between truth and falsehood in the most recent actions.
But the matter never comes to any issue, if trusted to the
common method of altercations and debate and flying
rumours; especially when men's passions have taken part
on either side.
In the infancy of new religions, the wise and learned
commonly esteem the matter too inconsiderable to deserve
their attention or regard. And when afterwards they would
willingly detect the cheat, in order to undeceive the deluded
multitude, the season is now past, and the records and
witnesses, which might clear up the matter, have perished
beyond recovery.
* Luciet.
Sect. X, Part II.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. izf
\ No means of detection remain, but those which must be
\ drawn from the very testimony itself of the reporters : and
these, though always sufficient with the judicious and
knowing, are commonly too fine to fall under the compre-
hension of the vulgar.
08 Upo n the whole, then, it appears, that no testij uony-fer
any kind of miracle has ever amounted to a probability,
m uch less to a proof; aad that, even supposing it amount ed
to a proof, it would be opp osed by another proof ; derived
from the very nature of the fact, which it would endeavour
to establish. It is experience only, which gives authorifyfs
"To human testim ony ; and it is tne s ame experience, which •»
assures us of the laws of nature. When, therefore, these
fwo kinds of experience are contrary, we have nothing to
do but substract ttie one from the other, ana embrace an
opinion, either on one side or the other, with that assurance
which arises from the remainder. But according to the
principle here ex plained, this substraction, with regard to
a ll popular religion s, amounts to an entire annihilation ; and
there fore we may establish it as a maxim, that no human jj
testimony can have such force as to prove a miracle, and/ »
makg'it a just f oundation for any such sys tem of religion^^^.J'^
89 1 beg the limitations here made may be remarked, when
I say, that a miracle can never be proved, so as to be the i\
foundation of a system of religion. For I own, that
otherwise, there may possibly be miracles, or violations of
the usual course of nature, of such a kind as to admit of
proof from human testimony; though, perhaps, it will be
impossible to find any such in all the records of history.
Thus, suppose, all authors, in all languages, agree, that,
from the first of January i6oo, there was a total darkness
over the whole earth for eight days : suppose that the
tradition of this extraordinary event is still strong and
lively among the people: that all travellers, who return
from foreign countries, bring us accounts of the same
128 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. X, Part II.
tradition, without the least variation or contradiction : it is
evident, that our present philosophers, instead of -doubting
the fact, ought to receive it as certain, and ought to search
for the causes whence it might be derived. The decay,
corruption, and dissolution of nature, is an event rendered
probable by so many analogies, that any phenoKienon,
which seems to have a tendency towards that catastrophe,
comes within the reach of human testimony, if that testimony
be very extensive and uniform.
But suppose, that all the historians who treat of England,
should agree, that, on the first of January 1600, Queen
Elizabeth died ; that both before and after her death she
was seen by her physicians and the whole court, as is usual
with persons of her rank; that her successor was acknow-
ledged and proclaimed by the parliament ; and that, after
being interred a month, she again appeared, resumed the
throne, and governed England for three years : I must
confess that I should be surprised at the concurrence of so
many odd circumstances, but should not have the least
inclination to believe so miraculous an event. I should not
doubt of her pretended death, and of those other public
circumstances that followed it : I should only assert it to
have been pretended, and that it neither was, nor possibly
could be real. You would in vain object to me the diffi-
culty, and almost impossibility of deceiving the world in an
affair of such consequence ; the wisdom and solid judgement
of that renowned queen ; with the little or no advantage
which she could reap from so poor an artifice : All this
might astonish me ; but I would still reply, that the knavery
and folly of men are such common phenomena, that
I should rather believe the most extraordinary events to
arise from their concurrence, than admit of so signal
a violation of the laws of nature.
But should this miracle be ascribed to any new system of
religion ; men, in all ages, have been so much imposed on
Sect. X, Part II.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 1 29
by ridiculous stories of that kind, that this very circumstance
would be a full proof of a cheat, and sufficient, with all men
of sense, not only to make them reject the fact, but even
reject it without farther examination. Though the Being to
whom the miracle is ascribed, be, in this case. Almighty, it
■lofis not, upon that account, become a whit more probable;
since it is impossible for us to know the attributes or actions I
of such a Being, otherwise than from the experience which /
we have of his productions, in the usual course of nature.
This still reduces us to past observation, and obliges us to
compare the instances of the violation of truth in the testi-
mony of men, with those of the violation of the laws of
nature by miracles, in order to judge which of them is most
likely and probable. As the violations of truth are more
common in the testimony concerning religious miracles,-
than in that concerning any other matter of fact ; this must •
diminish very much the authority of the former testimony,
and make us form a general resolution, never to lend any
attention to it, with whatever specious pretence it may be
covered.
Lord Bacon seems to have embraced the same principles
of reasoning. 'We ought,' says he, 'to make a collection or
particular history of all monsters and prodigious births or
productions, and in a word of every thing new, rare, and
extraordinary in nature. But this must be done with the
most severe scrutiny, lest we depart from truth. Above all,
every relation must be considered as suspicious, which
depends in any degree upon religion, as the prodigies of
Livy : And no less so, every thing that is to be found in the
writers of natural magic or alchimy, or such authors, who
seem, all of them, to have an unconquerable appetite for
falsehood and fabled'
100 I am the better pleased with the method of reasoning
- here delivered, as I think it may serve to confound those
' Nov. Org. lib. ii. aph. 29.
ISO AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. X, Part II.
I dangerous friends or disguised enemies to the Christian
I Religion, who have undertaken to defend it by the principles
I of human reason. Our most holy religion is founded on
\ Faith, not on reason ; and it is a sure method of exposing
it to put it to such a trial as it is, by no means, fitted to
endure. To make this more evident, let us examine those
miracles, related in scripture ;. and not to lose ourselves in
too wide a' field, let us confine ourselves to such as we find
in the Pentateuch, which we shall examine, according to the
principles of these pretended Christians, not as the word or
testimony of God himself, but as the production of a mere
human writer and historian. Here then we are first to
consider a book, presented to us by a barbarous and
ignorant people, written in an age when they were still more
barbarous, and in all probabihty long after the facts which
it relates, corroborated by no concurring testimony, and
resembling those fabulous accounts, which every nation gives
of its origin. Upon reading this book, we find it full of
prodigies and miracles. It gives an account of a state of
the world and of human nature entirely different from the
present : Of our fall from that state : Of the age of man,
extended to near a thousand years : Of the destruction of
the world by a deluge: Of the arbitrary choice of one
people, as the favourites of heaven ; and that people the
countrymen of the author: Of their deliverance from
bondage by prodigies the most astonishing imaginable :
I desire any one to lay his hand upon his heart, and after
a serious consideration declare, whether he thinks that the
falsehood of such a book, supported by such a testimony,
would be more extraordinary and miraculous than all the
miracles it relates ; which is, however, necessary to make it
be received, according to the measutes of probability above
established.
101 What we have said of miracles may be applied, without'
any variation, to prophecies ; and indeed, all prophecies are
Sect. X. Part 11.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING, 131
real miracles, and as such only, can be admitted as proofs of
any revelation. If it did not exceed the capacity of human
nature to foretell future events, it would be absurd to employ
any prophecy as an argument for a divine mission or
authority from heaven. So that, upon the whole, we may
conclude, that the Christian Religion not only was at first
attended with miracles, but even at this day cannot be
believed by any reasonable person without one. Mere
reason is insufficient to convince us of its veracity: And
whoever is moved by Faith to assent to it, is conscious of
a continued miracle in his own person, which subverts all
the principles of his understanding, and gives him a deter-
mination to believe what is most contrary to custom and
experience.
K 2
SECTION XL
OF A PARTICULAR PROVIDENCE AND OF A FUTURE
STATE.
102 I WAS lately engaged in conversation with a friend who
loves sceptical paradoxes ; where, though he advanced
many principles, of which I can by no means approve, yet
as they seem to be curious, and to bear some relation to the
chain of reasoning carried on throughout this enquiry, I shall
here copy them from my memory as accurately as I can, in
order to submit them to the judgement of the reader.
Our conversation began with my admiring the singular
good fortune of philosophy, which, as it requires entire liberty
above all other privileges, and chiefly flourishes from the free
opposition of sentiments and argumentation, received its first
birth in an age and country of freedom and toleration, and
was never cramped, even in its most extravagant principles,
by any creeds, concessions, or penal statutes. For, except
the banishment of Protagoras, and the death of Socrates,
which last event proceeded partly from other motives, there
are scarcely any instances to be met with, in ancient history,
of this bigotted jealousy, with which the present age is so
much infested. Epicurus hved at Athens to an advanced
age, in peace and tranquillity : Epicureans '■ were even
admitted to receive the sacerdotal character, and to ofificiate
at the altar, in the most sacred rites of the established
religion : And the public encouragement ' of pensions and
' Luciani avuv. { AaniSiu. ' Lnciani tivoOxos.
CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 133
salaries was afforded equally, by the wisest of all the Roman
emperors', to the professors of every sect of philosophy.
How requisite such kind of treatment was to philosophy, in
her early youth, will easily be conceived, if we reflect, that,
even at present, when she may be supposed more hardy and
robust, she bears with much difificulty the inclemency of the
seasons, and those harsh winds of calumny and persecution,
which blow upon her.
You admire, says my friend, as the singular good fortune
of philosophy, what seems to result from the natural course
of things, and to be unavoidable in every age and nation.
This pertinacious bigotry, of which you complain, as so fatal
to philosophy, is really her offspring, who, after allying with
superstition, separates himself entirely from the interest of
his parent, and becomes her most inveterate enemy and
persecutor. Speculative dogmas of religion, the present
occasions of such furious dispute, could not possibly be
conceived or admitted in the early ages of the world ; when
mankind, being wholly illiterate, formed an idea of religion
more suitable to their weak apprehension, and composed
their sacred tenets of such tales chiefly as were the objects
of traditional belief, more than of argument or disputation.
After the first alarm, therefore, was over, which arose from
the new paradoxes and principles of the philosophers ; these
teachers seem ever after, during the ages of antiquity, to
have lived in great harmony with the established supersti-
tion, and to have made a fair partition of mankind between
them J the former claiming all the learned and wise, the
latter possessing all the vulgar and illiterate.
103 It seems then, say I, that you leave politics entirely out of
the question, and never suppose, that a wise magistrate can
justly be jealous of certaiti tenets of philosophy, such as
those of Epicurus, which, denying a divine existence, and
consequently a providence and a future state, seem to loosen,
' Luciani and Dio.
134 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. XI.
in a great measure, the ties of morality, and may be
supposed, for that reason, pernicious to the peace of civil
society.
I know, replied he, that in fact these persecutions never,
in any age, proceeded from calm reason, or from experience
of the pernicious consequences of philosophy ; but arose
entirely from passion and prejudice. But what if I should
advance farther, and assert, that if Epicurus had been
accused before the people, by any of the sycophants or
informers of those days, he could easily have defended
his cause, and proved his principles of philosophy to be
as salutary as those of his adversaries, who endeavoured,
with such zeal, to expose him to the public hatred and
jealousy ?
I wish, said I, you would try your eloquence upon so
extraordinary a topic, and make a speech for Epicurus, Which
might satisfy, not the mob of Athens, if you will allow that
ancient and polite city to have contained any mob, but the
more philosophical part of his audience, such as might be
supposed capable of comprehending his arguments.
The matter would not be difiScult, upon such conditions,
replied he : And if you please, I shall suppose myself Epi-
curus for a moment, and make you stand for the Athenian
people, and shall deliver you such an harangue as will fill
all the urn with white beans, and leave not a black one to
gratify the malice of my adversaries.
Very well : Pray proceed upon these suppositions.
104 I come hither, O ye Athenians, to justify in your assembly
what I maintained in my school, and I find myself impeached
by furious antagonists, instead of reasoning with calm and
dispassionate enquirers. Your deUberations, which of right
should be directed to questions of public good, and the
interest of the commonwealth, are diverted to the disquisi-
tions of speculative philosophy ; and these magnificent, but
perhaps fruitless enquiries, take place of your more familiar
Sect. XI.) HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 135
but more useful occupations. But so far as in me lies,
I will prevent this abuse. We shall not here dispute con-
cerning the origin and government of worlds. We shall only
enquire how far such questions concern the public interest.
And if I can persuade you, that they are entirely indifferent
to the peace of society and security of government, I hope
that you will presently send us back to our schools, there to
examine, at leisure, the question the most sublime, but at the
same time, the most speculative of all philosophy.
The religious philosophers, not satisfied with the tradition
of your forefathers, and doctrine of your priests (in which
I willingly acquiesce), indulge a rash curiosity, in trying how
far they can establish religion upon the principles of reason ;
andthey thereby excite, instead of satisfying, the doubts, which
naturally arise from a diligent and scrutinous enquiry. They
paint, in the most "magnificent colours, the order, beauty,
and wise arrangement of the universe ; and then ask, if such
a glorious display of intelligence could proceed from the
fortuitous concourse of atoms, or if chance could produce
what the greatest genius can never sufiSciently admire. I shall
not examine the justness of this argument. I shall allow it
to be as solid as my antagonists and accusers can desire. It
is sufificient, if I can prove, from this very reasoning, that the
question is entirely speculative, and that, when, in my philo-
sophical disquisitions, I deny a providence and a future state,
I undermine not the foundations of society, but advance
. principles, which they themselves, upon their own topics, if
they argue consistently, must allow to be solid and satis-
factory.
105 You then, who are my accusers, have acknowledged, that
the chief or sole argument for a divine existence (which I
never questioned) is derived from the order of nature ; where
there appear such marks of intelligence and design, that you
think it extravagant to assign for its cause, either chance, or
the blind and unguided force of matter. You allow, that this
136 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. XI.
is an argument drawn from eifects to causes. From the
order of the work, you infer, that there must have been
project and forethought in the workman. If- you cannot
make out this point, you allow, that your conclusion fails ;
and you pretend not to establish the conclusion in a
greater latitude than the phenomena of nature will justify.
These are your concessions. I desire you to mark the
consequences.
When we infer any particular cause from an effect, we
must proportion the one to the other, and can never be
allowed to ascribe to the cause any qualities, but what are
exactly sufficient to produce the effect. A body of ten
ounces raised in any scale may serve as a proof, that the
counterbalancing weight exceeds ten ounces ; but can never
afford a reason that it exceeds a hundred. If the cause,
assigned for any effect, be not sufficient to produce it, we
must either reject that cause, or add to' it such qualities as
will give it a just proportion to the effect. But if we ascribe
to it farther qualities, or affirm it capable of producing other
effects, we can only indulge the licence of conjecture, and
arbitrarily suppose the existence of qualities and energies,
without reason or authority.
The same rule holds, whether the cause assigned be brute
unconscious matter, or a rational intelligent being. If the
cause be known only by the effect, we never ought to ascribe
to it any qualities, beyond what are precisely requisite to
produce the effect : Nor can we, by any rules of just reason-
ing, return back from the cause, and infer other effects from
it, beyond those by which alone it is known to us. No one,
merely from the sight of one of Zeuxis's pictures, could know,
that he was also a statuary or architect, and was an artist
no less skilful in stone and marble than in colours. The
talents and taste, displayed in the particular work before us ;
these we may safely conclude the workman to be possessed
of. The cause must be proportioned to the effect ; and if
Sect. XI.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 1 37
we exactly and precisely proportion it, we shall never find in
it any qualities, that point farther, or afford an inference
concerning any other design or performance. Such qualities
must be somewhat beyond what is merely requisite for pro-
ducing the effect, which we examine.
106 Allowing, therefore, the gods to be the authors of the
existence or order of the universe ; it follows, that they
possess that precise degree of power, intelligence, and
benevolence, which appears in their workmanship ; but
nothing farther can ever be proved, except we call in the
assistance of exaggeration and flattery to supply the defects
of argument and reasoning. So far as the traces of any
attributes, at present, appear, so far may we conclude these
attributes to exist. The supposition of farther attributes
is mere hypothesis; much more the supposition, that, in
distant regions of space or periods of time, there has been, or
will be, a more magnificent display of these attributes, and
a scheme of administration more suitable to such imaginary
virtues. We can never be allowed to mount up from the
universe, the effect, to Jupiter, the cause ; and then descend
downwards, to infer any new effect from that cause ; as if
the present effects alone were not entirely worthy of the
glorious attributes, which we ascribe to that deity. The
knowledge of the cause being derived solely from the effect,
they must be exactly adjusted to each other ; and the one
can never refer to anything farther, or be the foundation of
any new inference and conclusion.
You find certain phenomena in nature. You seek
a cause or author. You imagine that you have found him.
You afterwards become so enamoured of this offspring of
your brain, that you imagine it impossible, but he must
produce something greater and more perfect than the
present scene of things, which is so full of ill and dis-
order. You forget, that this superlative intelligence and
benevolence are entirely imaginary, or, at least, without any
138 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. XI.
foundation in reason; and that you have no ground to
ascribe to him any qualities, but what you see he has
actually exerted and displayed in his productions. Let your
gods, therefore, O philosophers, be suited to the present
appearances of nature : and presume not to alter these
appearances by arbitrary suppositions, in order to suit
them to the attributes, which you so fondly ascribe to your
deities.
107 When priests and poets, supported by your authority, O
Athenians, talk of a golden or silver age, which preceded
the present state of vice and misery, I hear them with
attention and with reverence. But when philosophers, who
pretend to neglect authority, and to cultivate reason, hold '
the same discourse, I pay them not, I own, the same
obsequious submission and pious deference. I ask; who
carried them into the celestial regions, who admitted them
into the councils of the gods, who opened to them the book
of fate, that they thus rashly afifirm, that their deities have
executed, or will execute, any purpose beyond what has
actually appeared ? If they tell me, that they have mounted
on the steps or by the gradual ascent of reason, and by
drawing inferences from effects to causes, I still insist, that
they have aided the ascent of reason by the wings of
imagination; otherwise they could not thus change their
manner of inference, and argue from causes to effects;
presuming, that a more perfect production than the present
world would be more suitable to such perfect beings as the
gods, and forgetting that they have no reason to ascribe
to these celestial beings any perfection or any attribute, but
what can be found in the present world.
Hence all the fruitless industry to account for the ill
appearances of nature, and save the honour of the gods;
while we must acknowledge the reality of that evil and
disorder, with which the world so much abounds. The
obstinate and intractable qualities of matter, we are told,
Sect.XI.i HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. I39
or the observance of general laws, or some such reason,
is the sole cause, which controlled the power and benevo-
lence of Jupiter, and obliged him to create mankind and
every sensible creature so imperfect and so unhappy.
These attributes then, are, it seems, beforehand, taken for
granted, in their greatest latitude. And upon that suppo-
sition, I own that such conjectures may, perhaps, be ad-
mitted as plausible solutions of the ill phenomena. But
Still I ask ; Why take these attributes for granted, or why
ascribe to the cause any qualities but what actually appear
in the effect ? Why torture your brain to justify the course
of nature upon suppositions, which, for aught you know,
may be entirely imaginary, and of which there are to be
found no traces in the course of nature?
The religious hypothesis, therefore, must be considered
only as a particular method of accounting for the visible
phenomena of the universe : but no just reasoner will
ever presume to infer from it any single fact, and alter or
add to the phenomena, in any single particular. If you
think, that the appearances of things prove such causes,
it is allowable for you to draw an inference concerning
the existence of these causes. In such complicated and
sublime subjects, every one should be indulged in the liberty
of conjecture and argument. But here you ought to rest.
If you come backward, and arguing from your inferred
causes, conclude, that any other fact has existed, or will
exist, in the course of nature, which may serve as a fuller
display of particular attributes; I must admonish you,
that you have departed from the method of reasoning,
attached to the present subject, and have certainly added
something to the attributes of the cause, beyond what
appears in the effect; otherwise you could never, with
tolerable sense or propriety, add anything to the effect, in
order to render it more worthy of the cause.
108 Where, then, is the odiousness of that doctrine, whic^
I40 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. XI.
I teach in my school, or rather, which I examine in my
gardens ? Or what do you find in this whole question,
wherein the security of good morals, or the peace and
order of society, is in the least concerned ?
I deny a providence, you say, and supreme governor
of the world, who guides the course of events, and punishes
the vicious with infamy and disappointment, and rewards
the virtuous with honour and success, in all their under-
takings. But surely, I deny not the course itself of events,
which lies open to every one's inquiry and examination.
I acknowledge, that, in the present order of things, virtue
is attended with more peace of mind than vice, and
meets with a more favourable reception from the world.
I am sensible, that, according to the past experience of
mankind, friendship is the chief joy of human life, and
moderation the only source of tranquillity and happiness.
I never balance between the virtuous and the vicious course
of life; but am sensible, that, to a well-disposed, mind,
every advantage is on the side of the former. And what
can you say more, allowing all your suppositions and
reasonings? You tell me, indeed, that this disposition
of things proceeds from intelligence and design. But
whatever it proceeds from, the disposition itself, on which
depends our happiness or misery, and consequently our
conduct and deportment in life is still the same. It is
still open for me, as well as you, to regulate my behaviour,
by my experience of past events. And if you affirm, that,
while a divine providence is allowed, and a supreme dis-
tributive justice in the universe, I ought to expect some
more particular reward of the good, and punishment of
the bad, beyond the ordinary course of events ; I here find
the same fallacy, which I have before endeavoured to
detect. You persist in imagining, that, if we grant that
divine existence, for which you so earnestly contend, you
may safely infer consequences from it, and add some-
Sect.Xi:] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 141
thing to the experienced order of nature, by arguing from
the attributes which you ascribe to your gods. You
seem not to remember, that all your reasonings on this
subject can only be drawn from effects to causes ; and that
every argument, deducted from causes to effects, must of
necessity be a gross sophism ; since it is impossible for
you to know anything of the cause, but what you have
antecedently, not inferred, but discovered to the full, in
the effect.
109 But what must a philosopher think of those vain rea-
soners, who", instead of regarding the present scene of
things as the sole object of their contemplation, so far
reverse the whole course of nature, as to render this life
merely a passage to something farther; a porch, which
leads to a greater, and vastly different building ; a pro-
logue, which serves only to introduce the piece, and
give it more grace and propriety ? Whence, do you think,
can such philosophers derive their idea of the gods ? From
their own conceit and imagination surely. For if they
derived it from the present phenomena, it would never
point to anything farther, but must be exactly adjusted
to them. That the divinity may possibly be endowed
with attributes, which we have never seen exerted j may
be governed by principles of action, which we cannot
discover to be satisfied : all this will freely be allowed.
But still this is mere possibility and hypothesis. We never
can have reason to infer any attributes, or any principles of
action in him, but so far as we know them to have been
exerted and satisfied.
Are there any marks of a distributj.ve justice in the worlds
If you answer in the affirmative, I conclude, that, since
justice here exerts itself, it is satisfied. If you reply in
the negative, I conclude, that you have then no reason
to ascribe justice, in our sense of it, to the gods. If you
hold a medium between affirmation and negation, by
142 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. XI.
saying, that the justice of the gods, at present, exerts
itself in part, but not in its full extent; I answer, that
you have no reason to give it any particular extent, but
only so far as you see it, at present, exert itself.
110 Thus I bring the dispute, O Athenians, to a short
issue with my antagonists. The course of nature lies
open to my contemplation as well as to theirs. The ex-
perienced train of events is the great standard, by which
we all regulate our conduct. Nothing else can be appealed
to in the field, or in the senate. Nothing else ought
ever to be heard of in the school, or in the closet. In
vain would our limited understanding break through those
boundaries, which are too narrow for our fond imagination.
While we argue from the course of nature, and infer
a particular intelligent cause, which first bestowed, and still
preserves order in the universe, we embrace a principle,
which is both uncertain and useless. It is uncertain;
because the subject lies entirely beyond the reach of
human experience. It is useless; because our knowledge
of this cause being derived entirely from the course of
nature, we can never, according to the rules of just reason-
ing, return back from the cause with any new inference,
or making additions to the common and experienced course
of nature, establish any new principles of conduct and
behaviour.
111 I observe (said I, finding he had finished his harangue)
that you neglect not the artifice of the demagogues of
old ; and as you were pleased to make me stand for the
people, you insinuate yourself into my favour by embracing
those principles, to which, you know, I have always ex-
pressed a particular attachment. But allowing you to
make experience (as indeed I think you ought) the only
standard of our judgement concerning this, and all other
questions of fact ; I doubt not but, from the very same
experience, to which you appeal, it may be possible to
Sect.xr. HUMAN UNDERSTANDmc. 143
refute this reasoning, which you have put into the mouth of
Epicurus. If you saw, for instance, a half-finished building,
surrounded with heaps of brick and stone and mortar,
and all the instruments of masonry ; could you not infer
from the effect, that it was a work of design and con-
trivance? And could you not return again, from this
inferred cause, to infer new additions to the effect, and
conclude, that the building would soon be finished, and
receive all the further improvements, which art could
bestow upon it? If you saw upon the sea-shore the
print of one human foot, you would conclude, that a man
had passed that way, and that he had also left the traces
of the other foot, though effaced by the rolling of the
sands or inundation of the waters. Why then do you
refuse to admit the same method of reasoning with regard
to the order of nature ? Consider the world and the present
life only as an imperfect building, from which you can
infer a superior intelligence ; and arguing from that superior
intelligence, which can leave nothing imperfect ; why may
you not infer a more finished scheme or plan, which will
receive its completion in some distant point of space or
time ? Are not these methods of reasoning exactly similar ?
And under what pretence can you embrace the one, while
you reject the other?
112 The infinite difference of the subjects, replied he, is
a sufficient foundation for this difference in my conclusions.
In works of human art and contrivance, it is allowable to
advance from the effect to the cause, and returning back
from the cause, to form new inferences concerning the
effect, and examine the alterations, which it has probably
undergone, or may still undergo. But what is the founda-
tion of this method of reasoning? Plainly this; that
man is a being, whom we know by experience, whose
motives and designs we are acquainted with, and whose
'projects and inclinations have a certain connexion and
144 AN ENQUIRY CONCERmNG [Sict: XI.
coherence, according ^cr the laws which nature has estab-
lished for the government of such a creature. When, there-
fore, we find, that any work has proceeded from the skill
and industry of man ; as we are otherwise acquainted with
the nature of the animal, we can draw a hundred infer-
ences concerning what may be expected from him ; and
these inferences will all be founded in experience and
observation. But did we know man only from the single
work or production which we examine, it were impossible
for us to argue in this manner; because our knowledge
of all the qualities, which we ascribe to him, being in that
case derived from the production, it is impossible they
could point to anything farther, or be the foundation of
any new inference. The print of. a foot in the sand can
only prove, when considered alone, that there was some
figure adapted to it, by which it was produced : but the
print of a human foot proves hkewise, from our other
experience, that there was probably another foot, which
also left its impression, though effaced by time or other
accidents. Here we mount from the effect to the cause ;
and descending again from the cause, infer alterations in
the effect; but this is not a continuation of the same
simple chain of reasoning. We comprehend in this case
a hundred other experiences and observations, concerning
the usual figure and members of that species of animal,
without which this method of argument must be considered
as fallacious and sophistical.
113 The case is not the same with our reasonings from the
works of nature. The Deity is known to us only by his
productions, and is a single being in the universe, not
comprehended under any species or genus, from whose
experienced attributes or qualities, we can, by analogy,
infer any attribute or quality in him. As the universe
shews wisdom and goodness, we infer \yisdom and good-
ness. As it shews a particular degree of these perfections,
Sect. XI.l HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 145
we infer a particular degree of them, precisely adapted to
the effect which we examine. But farther attributes or
farther degrees of the same attributes, we can never be
authorised to infer or suppose, by any rules of just
reasoning. Now, without some such licence of supposition,
it is impossible for us to argue from the cause, or infer
any alteration in the effect, beyond what has immediately
fallen under our observation. Greater good produced by
this Being must still prove a greater degree of goodness :
a more impartial distribution of rewards and punishments
must proceed from a greater regard to justice and equity.
Every supposed addition to the works of nature makes an
addition to the attributes of the Author of nature; and
consequently, being entirely unsupported by any reason
or argument, can never be admitted but as mere con-
jecture and hypothesis^.
The great source of our mistake in this subject, and of
the unbounded licence of conjecture, which we indulge,
is, that we tacitly consider ourselves, as in the place of
the Supreme Being, and conclude, that he will, on every
* In general, it may, I think, be established as a maxim, that where
any cause is known only by its particular effects, it must be impossible
to infer any new effects from that cause ; since the qualities, which are
requisite to produce these new effects along with the former, must either
be different, or superior, or of more extensive operation, than those
which simply produced the effect, whence alone the cause is supposed to
be known to us. We can never, therefore, have any reason to suppose
the existence of these qualities. To say, that the new effects proceed
only from a continuation of the same energy, which is already known
from the first effects, will not remove the difficulty. For even granting
this to be the case (which can seldom be supposed), the very continuation
and exertion of a like energy (for it is impossible it can be absolutely
the same), I say, this exertion of a like energy, in a different period of
space and time, is a very arbitrary supposition, and what there cannot
possibly be any traces of in the effects, from which all our knowledge of
the cause is originally derived. Let the inferred cause be exactly
proportioned (as it should be) to the known effect ; and it is impossible
that it can possess any qualities, from which new or different effects can
be inferred.
L
146 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. XI.
occasion, observe the same conduct, which we ourselves,
in his situation, would have embraced as reasonable and
eligible. But, besides that the ordinary course of nature
may convince us, that almost everything is regulated by
principles and maxims very different from ours; besides
this, I say, it must evidently appear contrary to all rules
of analogy to reason, from the intentions and projects
of men, to those of a Being so different, and so much
superior. In human nature, there is a certain experienced
coherence of designs and inclinations ; so that when,
from any fact, we have discovered one intention of any
man, it may often be reasonable, from experience, to
infer another, and draw a long chain of conclusions con-
cerning his past or future conduct. But this method of
reasoning can never have place with regard to a Being,
so remote and incomprehensible, who bears much less
analogy to any other being in the universe than the sun
to a waxen taper, and who discovers himself only by
some faint traces or outlines, beyond which we have no
authority to ascribe to him any attribute or perfection.
What we imagine to be a superior perfection, may really
be a defect. Or were it ever so much a perfection, the
ascribing of it to the Supreme Being, where it appears
not to have been really exerted, to the full, in his works,
savours more of flattery and panegyric, than of just reasoning
and sound philosophy. All the philosophy, therefore, in the
world, and all the religion, which is nothing but a species
of philosophy, will never be able to carry us beyond the
usual course of experience, or give us measures of conduct
and behaviour different from those which are furnished by
reflections on common life. No new fact can ever be
inferred from the religious hypothesis; no event foreseen
or foretold ; no reward or punishment expected or dreaded,
beyond what is already known by practice and observation.
So that my apology for Epicurus will still appear solid and
Sect. XI.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 147
satisfactory ; nor have the pohtical interests of society any
connexion with the philosophical disputes concerning meta-
physics and religion.
114 There is still one circumstance, replied I, which you
seem to have overlooked. Though I should allow your
premises, I must deny your conclusion. You conclude, that
religious doctrines and reasonings can have no influence on
life, because they ought to have no influence; never con-
sidering, that men reason not in the same manner you do,
but draw many consequences from the belief of a divine
Existence, and suppose that the Deity will inflict punish-
ments on vice, and bestow rewards on virtue, beyond what
appear in the ordinary course of nature. Whether this
reasoning of theirs be just or not, is no matter. Its influence
on their life and conduct must still be the same. And,
those, who attempt to disabuse them of such prejudices,
may, for aught I know, be good reasoners, but I cannot
allow them to be good citizens and politicians ; since they
free men from one restraint upon their passions, and make
the infringement of the laws of society, in one respect, more
easy and secure.
After all, I may, perhaps, agree to your general conclusion
in favour of liberty, though upon different premises from
those, on which you endeavour to found it. I think, that
the state ought to tolerate every principle of philosophy;
nor is there an instance, that any government has suffered
in its political interests by such indulgence. There is no
enthusiasm among philosophers ; their doctrines are not
very alluring to the people ; and no restraint can be put
upon their reasonings, but what must be of dangerous
consequence to the sciences, and even to the state, by
paving the way for persecution and oppression in points,
where the generality of mankind are more deeply interested
and concerned.
115 But there occurs to me (continued I) with regard to your
L 2
148 CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING.
main topic, a difficulty, which I shall just propose to you
without insisting on it ; lest it lead into reasonings of too
nice and delicate a nature. In a word, I much doubt
whether it be possible for a cause to be known only by its
effect (as you have all along supposed) or to be of so singular
and particular a nature as to have no parallel and no simi-
larity with any other cause or object, that has ever fallen
under our observation. It is only when two species of objects
are found to be constantly conjoined, that we can infer the
one from the other; and were an effect presented, which
was entirely singular, and could not be comprehended under
any known species, I do not see, that we could form any
conjecture or inference at all concerning its cause. If
experience and observation and analogy be, indeed, the
only guides which we can reasonably follow in inferences of
this nature ; both the effect and cause must bear a similarity
and resemblance to other effects and causes, which we know,
and which we have found, in many instances, to be con-
joined with each other. I leave it to your own reflection to
pursue the consequences of this principle. I shall just
observe, that, as the antagonists of Epicurus always suppose
the universe, an effect quite singular and unparalleled, to
be the proof of a Deity, a cause no less singular and un-
paralleled; your reasonings, upon that supposition, seem,
at least, to merit our attention. There is, I own, some
difficulty, how we can ever return from the cause to the
effect, and, reasoning from our ideas of the former, infer
any alteration on the latter, or any addition to it.
SECTION XII.
OF THE ACADEMICAL OR SCEPTICAL PHILOSOPHY.
Part I.
116 There is not a greater number of philosophical reason-
ings, displayed upon any subject, than those, which prove
the existence of a Deity, and refute the fallacies of Atheists ;
and yet the most religious philosophers still dispute whether
any man can be so blinded as to be a speculative atheist.
How shall we reconcile these contradictions ? The knights-
errant, who wandered about to clear the world of dragons
and giants, never entertained the least doubt with regard to
the existence of these monsters.
The Sceptic is another enemy of religion, who naturally
provokes the indignation of all divines and graver philoso-
phers ; though it is certain, that no man ever met with any
such absurd creature, or conversed with a man, who had no
opinion or principle concerning any subject, either of action
or speculation. This begets a very natural question ; What
is meant by a sceptic ? And how far it is possible to push
these philosophical principles of doubt and uncertainty ?
There is a species of scepticism, antecedent to all study
and philosophy, which is much inculcated by Des Cartes
and others, as a sovereign preservative against error and
precipitate judgement. It recommends an universal doubt,
not only of all our formei: opinions and principles, but also
of our very faculties ; of whose veracity, say they, we must
1 5 O AN ENQ UIRY CONCERNING [Sect. XIl, Part I.
assure ourselves, by a chain of reasoning, deduced from
some original principle, which cannot possibly be fallacious
or deceitful. But neither is there any such original prin-
ciple, which has a prerogative above others, that are self-
evident and convincing : or if there were, could we advance
a step beyond it, but by the use of those very faculties, of
which we are supposed to be already diffident. The Carte-
sian doubt, therefore, were it ever possible to be attained
by any human creature (as it plainly is not) would be
entirely incurable ; and no reasoning could ever bring us to
a state of assurance and conviction upon any subject.
It must, however, be confessed, that this species of scep-
ticism, when more moderate, may be understood in a very
reasonable sense, and is a necessary preparative to the
study of philosophy, by preserving a proper impartiality
in our judgements, and weaning our mind from all those
prejudices, which we may have imbibed from education
or rash opinion. To begin with clear and self-evident
principles, to advance by timorous and sure steps, to review
frequently our conclusions, and examine accurately all their
consequences ; though by these means we shall make
both a slow and $. short progress in our systems ; are
the only methods, by which we can ever hope to reach
truth, and attain a proper stability and certainty in our
determinations.
117 There is another species of scepticism, consequent to
science and enquiry, when men are supposed to have dis-
covered, either the absolute fallaciousness of their mental
faculties, or their unfitness to reach any fixed determination
in all those curious subjects of speculation, about which
they are commonly employed. Even our very senses are
brought into dispute, by a certain species of philosophers ;
and the maxims of common life are subjected to the same
doubt as the most profound principles or conclusions of
metaphysics and theology. As these paradoxical tenets
Sect. XII, Part I.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 151
(if they may be called tenets) are to be met with in some
philosophers, and the refutation of them in several, they
naturally excite our curiosity, and make us enquire into the
arguments, on which they may be founded.
I need not insist upon the more trite topics, employed by
the sceptics in all ages, against the evidence of -sense ; such
as those which are derived from the imperfection and
fallaciousness of our organs, on numberless occasions ; the
crooked appearance of an oar in water j the various aspects
of objects, according to their different distances ; the double
images which arise from the pressing one eye ; with many
other appearances of a like nature. These sceptical topics,
indeed, are only sufficient to prove, that the senses alone
are not implicitly to be depended on; but that we must
correct their evidence by reason, and by considerations,
derived from the nature of the medium, the distance of the
object, and the disposition of the organ, in order to render
them, within their sphere, the proper criteria of truth and .
falsehood. There are other more profound arguments
against the senses, which admit not of so easy a solution.
118 It seems evident, that men are carried, by a natural
instinct or prepossession, to repose faith in their senses;
and that, without any reasoning, or even almost before the
use of reason, we always suppose an external universe,
which depends not on our perception, but would exist,
though we and every sensible creature were absent or
annihilated. Even the animal creation are governed by
a like opinion, and preserve this belief of external objects,
in all their thoughts, designs, and actions.
It seems also evident, that, when men follow this blind
and powerful instinct of nature, they always suppose the
very images, presented by the senses, to be the external
objects, and never entertain any suspicion, that the one are
nothing but representations of the other. This very table,
which we see white, and which we feel hard, is believed to
152 AN ENQUIRV CONCERNING {Sect. XII, Part I.
exist, independent of our perception, and to be something
external to our mind, which perceives it. Our presence
bestows not being on it : our absence does not annihilate
it. It preserves its existence uniform and entire, inde-
pendent of the situation of intelligent beings, who perceive
or contemplate it.
But this universal and primary opinion of all men is soon
destroyed by the slightest philosophy, which teaches us,
that nothing can ever be present to the mind but an image
or perception, and that the senses are only the inlets,
through which these images are conveyed, without being
able to produce any immediate intercourse between the
mind and the object. The table, which we see, seems to
diminish, as we remove farther from it : but the real table,
which exists independent of us, suffers no alteration : it
was, therefore, nothing but its image, which was present to
the mind. These are the obvious dictates of reason ; and
no man, who reflects, ever doubted, that the existences,
which we consider, when we say, this house and that tree,
are nothing but perceptions in the mind, and fleeting copies
or representations of other existences, which remain uniform
and independent.
119 So far, then, are we necessitated by reasoning to con-
tradict or depart from the primary instincts of nature, and
to embrace a new system with regard to the evidence of our
senses. But here philosophy finds herself extremely em-
barrassed, when she would justify this new system, and
obviate the cavils and objections of the sceptics. She can
no longer plead the infallible and irresistible instinct of
nature : for that led us to a quite different system, which is
acknowledged fallible and even erroneous. And to justify
this pretended philosophical system, by a chain of clear
and convincing argument, or even any appearance of argu-
ment, exceeds the power of all human capacity.
By what argument can it be proved, that the perceptions
Sect. XII. Part 1.1 HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 153
of the mind must be caused by external objects, entirely
different from them, though resembling them (if that be
possible) and could not arise either from the energy of the
mind itself, or from the suggestion of some invisible and
unknown spirit, or from some other cause still more un-
known to us? It is acknowledged, that, in fact, many
of these perceptions arise not from anything external, as
in dreams, madness, and other diseases. And nothing can
be more inexplicable than the manner, in which body
should so operate upon mind as ever to convey an image
of itself to a substance, supposed of so different, and even
contrary a nature.
It is a question of fact, whether the perceptions of the
senses be produced by external objects, resembUng them :
how shall this question be determined? By experience
surely ; as all other questions of a like nature. But here
experience is, and must be entirely silent. The mind has
never anything present to it but the perceptions, and cannot
possibly reach any experience of their connexion with
objects. The supposition of such a connexion is, therefore,
without any foundation in reasoning.
120 To have recourse to the veracity of the supreme Being,
in order to prove the veracity of our senses, is surely
making a very unexpected circuit. If his veracity were at
all concerned in this matter, our senses would be entirely
infalhble; because it is not possible that he can ever
deceive. Not to mention, that, if the external world be
once called in question, we shall be at a loss to find argu-
ments, by which we may prove the existence of that Being
or any of his attributes.
121 This is a topic, therefore, in which the profounder and
more philosophical sceptics will always triumph, when they
endeavour to introduce an universal doubt into all subjects
of human knowledge and enquiry. Do you follow the
instincts and propensities of nature, may they say, in
IS4 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. XII, Part I.
assenting to the veracity of sense ? But these lead you to
believe that the very perception or sensible image is the
external object. Do you disclaim this principle, in order to
embrace a more rational opinion, that the perceptions are
only representations of something external ? You here depart
from your natural propensities and more obvious senti-
ments ; and yet are not able to satisfy your reason, which
can never iind any convincing argument from experience to
prove, that the perceptions are connected with any external
objects.
122 There is another sceptical topic of a like nature, derived
from the most profound philosophy; which might merit
our attention, were it requisite to dive so deep, in order
to discover arguments and reasonings, which can so little
serve to any serious purpose. It is universally allowed
by modern enquirers, that all the sensible qualities of ob-
jects, such as hard, soft, hot, cold, white, black, &c. are
merely secondary, and exist not in the objects themselves,
but are perceptions of the mind, without any external
archetype or model, which they represent. If this be
allowed, with regard to secondary qualities, it must also
follow, with regard to the supposed primary qualities of
extension and solidity; nor can the latter be any more
entitled to that denomination than the former. The idea
of extension is entirely acquired from the senses of sight
and feeling; and if all the qualities, perceived by the
senses, be in the mind, not in the object, the same con-
clusion must reach the idea of extension, which is wholly
dependent on the sensible ideas or the ideas of secondary
qualities. Nothing can save us from this conclusion, but
the asserting, that the ideas of those primary qualities are
attained by Abstraction, an opinion, which, if we examine it
accurately, we shall find to be unintelligible, and even absurd.
An extension, that is neither tangible nor visible, cannot
possibly be conceived : and a tangible or visible extension,
Sect. XII, Part II.1 HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 153
which is neither hard nor soft, black nor white, is equally
beyond the reach of human conception. Let any man try
to conceive a triangle in general, which is neither Isosceles
nor Scalenum, nor has any particular length or proportion
of sides ; and he will soon perceive the absurdity of all the
scholastic notions with regard to abstraction and general
ideas '.
123 Thus the first philosophical objection to the evidence
of sense or to the opinion of external existence consists
in this, that such an opinion, if rested on natural instinct, is
contrary to reason, and if referred to reason, is contrary to
natural instinct, and at the same time carries no rational /
evidence with it, to convince an impartial enquirer. The
second objection goes farther, and represents this opinion
as contrary to reason ; at least, if it be a principle of reason,
that all sensible qualities are in the mind, not in the object.
Bereave matter of all its intelligible qualities, both primary
and secondary, you in a manner annihilate it, and leave
only a certain unknown, inexplicable something, as the cause
of our perceptions ; a notion so imperfect, that no sceptic
will think it worth while to contend against it.
Part II,
124 It may seem a very extravagant attempt of the sceptics
to destroy reason by argument and ratiocination; yet is
this the grand scope of all their enquiries and disputes.
' This argument is drawn from Dr. Berkeley ; and indeed most of the
writings of that very ingenious author form the best lessons pf scepticism,
which are to be found either among the ancient or modem philosophers,
Bayle not excepted. He professes, however, in his title-page (and
undoubtedly with great truth) to have composed his book against the
sceptics as well as against the atheists and free-thinkers. But that all his
arguments, though otherwise intended, are, in reality, merely sceptical,
appears from this, that they admit of no answer and produce no con-
viction. Their only effect is to cause that momentaiy amazement and
irresolution and confusion, which is the result of scepticism.
156 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. XII. Part I r.
They endeavour to find objections, both to our abstract
reasonings, and to those which regard matter of fact and
existence.
The chief objection against all abstract reasonings is
derived from the ideas of space and time ; ideas, which, in
common life and to a careless view, are very clear and
intelligible, but when they pass through the scrutiny of the
profound sciences (and they are the chief object of these
sciences) afford principles, which seem full of absurdity and
contradiction. No priestly dogmas, invented on purpose to
tame and subdue the rebellious reason of mankind, ever
shocked common sense more than the doctrine of the
infinitive divisibility of extension, with its consequences;
as they are pompously displayed by all geometricians and
metaphysicians, with a kind of triumph and exultation.
A real quantity, infinitely less than any finite quantity, con-
taining quantities infinitely less than itself, and so on in
infinitum ; this is an edifice so bold and prodigious, that it
is too weighty for any pretended demonstration to support,
because it shocks the clearest and most natural principles
of human reason'. But what renders the matter more
extraordinary, is, that these seemingly absurd opinions are
supported by a chain of reasoning, the clearest and most
natural; nor is it possible for us to allow the premises
without admitting the consequences. Nothing can be
more convincing and satisfactory than all the conclusions
' Whatever disputes there may be about mathematical points, we
must allow that there are physical points ; that is, parts of exteosion,
which cannot be divided or lessened, either by the eye or imagination.
These images, then, which are present to the fancy or senses, are
absolutely indivisible, and consequently must be allowed by mathema-
ticians to be infinitely less than any real part of extension ; and yet
nothing appears more certain to reason, than that an infinite number of
thfm composes an infinite extension. How much more an infinite
number of those infinitely small parts of extension, which are still
supposed infinitely divisible.
Sect. XII, Part II.) HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. igy
concerning the properties of circles and triangles ; and yet,
when these are once received, how can we deny, that the
angle of contact between a circle and its tangent is infinitely
less than any rectilineal angle, that as you may increase the
diameter of the circle in infinitum, this angle of contact
becomes still less, even in infinitum, and that the angle
of contact between other curves and their tangents may be
infinitely less than those between any circle and its tangent,
and so on, in infinitum} The demonstration of these
principles seems as unexceptionable as that which proves
the three angles of a triangle to be equal to two right
ones, though the latter opinion be natural and easy, and
the former big with contradiction and absurdity. Reason
here seems to be thrown into a kind of amazement and
suspence, which, without the suggestions of any sceptic,
gives her a difiSdence of herself, and of the ground on
which she treads. She sees a full light, which illuminates
certain places ; but that light borders upon the most pro-
found darkness. And between these she is so dazzled and
confounded, that she scarcely can pronounce with certainty
and assurance concerning any one object.
125 The absurdity of these bold determinations of the ab-
stract sciences seems to become, if possible, still more
palpable with regard tp time than extension. An infinite
number of real parts of time, passing in succession, and
exhausted one after another, appears so evident a contra-
diction, that no man, one should think, whose judgement
is not corrupted, instead of being improved, by the sciences,
would ever be able to admit of it.
Yet still reason must remain restless, and unquiet, even
with regard to that scepticism, to which she is driven by
these seeming absurdities and contradictions. How any
clear, distinct idea can contain circumstances, contradictory
to itself, or to any other clear, distinct idea, is absolutely
incomprehensible ; and is, perhaps, as absurd as any propo-
158 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. XII, Part I r.
sition, which can be formed. So that nothing can be more
sceptical, or more full of doubt and hesitation, than this
scepticism itself, which arises from some of the paradoxical
conclusions of geometry or the science of quantity \
126 The sceptical objections to moral evidence, or to the
reasonings concerning matter of fact, are either popular or
philosophical. The popular objections are derived from the
natural weakness of human understanding ; the contra-
dictory opinions, which have been entertained in different
ages and nations ; the variations of our judgement in sick-
ness and health, youth and old age, prosperity and adver-
sity ; the perpetual contradiction of each particular man's
opinions and sentiments ; with many other topics of that
kind. It is needless to insist farther on this head. These
objections are but weak. For as, in common life, we reason
every moment concerning fact and existence, and cannot
possibly subsist, without continually employing this species
of argument, any popular objections, derived from thence,
must be insufficient to destroy that evidence. The great
subverter of Pyrrhonism o^ the excessive principles of
' It seems to me not impossible to avoid these absurdities and
contradictions, if it be admitted, that there is no such thing as abstract
or general ideas, properly speaking ; but that all general ideas are, in
reality, particular ones, attached to a general term, which recalls, upon
occasion, other particular ones, that resemble, in certain circumstances,
the idea, present to the mind. Thus when the term Horse is pronounced,
we immediately figure to ourselves the idea of a black or a white
animal, of a particular size or figure : But as that terra is also usually
applied to animals of other colours, figures and sizes, these ideas,
though not actually present to the imagination, are easily recalled ; and
our reasoning and conclusion proceed in the same way, as if they were
actually present. If this be admitted (as seems reasonable) it follows
that all the ideas of quantity, upon which mathematicians reason, are
nothing but particular, and such as are suggested by the senses and
imagination, and consequently, cannot be infinitely divisible. It is
sufficient to have dropped this hint at present, without prosecuting it
any farther. It certainly concerns all lovers of science not to expose
themselves to the ridicule and contempt of the ignorant by their
conclusions ; and this seems the readiest solution of these difficulties.
Sect. XII, Part n.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 159 \
\
scepticism is action, and employment, and the occupations 1
of common life. These principles may flourish and triumph ?
in the schools ; where it is, ipdeed, difficult, if not impossible, |
to refute them. But as soon as they leave the shade, and
by the presence of the real objects, which actuate our
passions and sentiments, are put in opposition to the more
powerful principles of our nature, they vanish like smoke,
and leave the most determined sceptic in the same condition
as other mortals.
127 The sceptic, therefore, had better keep within his proper
sphere, and display those philosophical objections, which
arise from more profound researches. Here he seems to
have ample matter of triumph ; while he justly insists, that
all our evidence for any matter of fact, which lies beyond the
testimony of sense or memory, is derived entirely from the
relation of cause and effect ; that we have no other idea
of this relation than that of two objects, which have been
frequently conjoined together ; that we have no argument to
convince us, that objects, which have, in our experience,
been frequently conjoined, will likewise, in other instances,
be conjoined in the same manner ; and that nothing leads
us to this inference but custom or a certain instinct of our
nature \ which it is indeed difficult to resist, but which,
like other instincts, may be fallacious and deceitful. While
the sceptic insists upon these topics, he shows his force, or
rather, indeed, his own and our weakness ; and seems, for
the time at least, to destroy all assurance and conviction.
These arguments might be displayed at greater length,
if any durable good or benefit to society could ever be
expected to result from them.
128 For here is the chief and most confounding objection to
excessive scepticism, that no durable good can ever result
from it J while it remains in its full force and vigour. We
need only ask such a sceptic, What his meaning is 1 And
what he proposes by all these curious researches 'i He is
1 60 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. XII, Part U.
immediately at a loss, and knows not what to answer,
A Copernican or Ptolemaic, who supports each his different
system of astronomy, may hope to produce a conviction,
which will remain constant and durable, with his audience.
A Stoic or Epicurean displays principles, which may not
be durable, but which have an effect on conduct and be-
haviour. But a Pyrrhonian cannot expect, that his philo-
sophy will have any constant influence on the mind : or if
it had, that its influence would be beneficial to society. On
the contrary, he must acknowledge, if he will acknowledge
' anything, that all human life must perish, were his principles
universally and steadily to prevail. All discourse, all action
would immediately cease; and men remain in a total lethargy,
till the necessities of nature, unsatisfied, put an end to their
miserable existence. It is true j so fatal an event is very little
to be dreaded. Nature is always too strong for principle.
And though a Pyrrhonian may throw himself or others into
a momentary amazement and confusion by his profound
reasonings; the first and most trival event in life will
put to flight all his doubts and scruples, and leave him the
same, in every point of action and speculation, with the
philosophers of every other sect, or with those who never
concerned themselves in any philosophical researches.
, When he awakes from his dream, he will be the first to join
J in the laugh against himself, and to confess, that all his
1 objections are mere amusement, and can have no other
,' tendency than to show the whimsical condition of mankind,
i who must act and reason and believe ; though they are not
I able, by their most diligent enquiry, to satisfy themselves
I concerning the foundation of these operations, or to remove
the objections, which may be raised against them.
Sect. XII, Part III.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. l6l
Part III.
129 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 scepticism, when its undistinguished doubts are,
in some measure, corrected by common sense and reflection.
The greater part of mankind are naturally apt to be affirm-
ative and dogmatical in their opinions ; and while they see
objects only on one side, and have no idea of any counter-
poising argument, they throw themselves precipitately into
the principles, to which they are inclined; nor have they
any indulgence for those who entertain opposite sentiments.
' To hesitate or balance perplexes their understanding, checks
their passion, and suspends their action. They are, there-
fore, 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 suchj
dogmatical reasoners become sensible of the strange infirJ
mities of human understanding, even in its most perfectj
state, and when most accurate and cautious in its determinanf
tions ; 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 advantages 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 them, that the few
advantages, which they may have attained over their fellows,
are but inconsiderable, if compared with the universal per^
plexity and confusion, which is inherent in human nature. In
i6i2 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING ISect. XII. Part III.
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.
130 Another species of mitigated scepticism which may be
of advantage 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 imagina-
tion of man is naturally sublime, deUghted with whatever is
remote and extraordinary, 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 coxrtci Judgement 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 propensity
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 thousand 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 ?
Sect.XII,PartIII.] HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 163
This narrow limitation, indeed, of our enquiries, is, in every
respect, so reasonable, that it suffices to make the slightest
examination 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.
131 It seems to me, that the only objects of the abstract
science or of demonstration are quantity and number, and
that all attempts to extend this more perfect species of
knowledge beyond these bounds are mere sophistry and
illusion. As the component 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 obvious 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 propo-
sition, 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 imperfect 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.
132 All other enquiries of men regard only matter of fact and
M 2
l64 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. XII, Part III.
existence; and these are evidently incapable of demon-
stration. Whatever is may not be. No negation of a fact
can involve a contradiction. The non-existence of any
being, without exception, is as clear and distinct an idea
as its existence. The proposition, which affirms it not
to be, however false, is no less 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 unintelligible. That
the cube root of 64 is equal to the half of 10, is a false pro-
position, 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 argu-
ments 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 thcL
existence of one object from that of another \ Such 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.
* 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.
Sect. XII, Parting HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 165
The sciences, which treat of general facts, are politics,
natural philosophy, physic, chemistry, &c. where' the quali-
ties, 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 revelation.
Morals and criticism are not so properly objects of the
understanding as of taste and sentiment. Beauty, whether
moral or 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 concern-
ing quantity or number 1 No. Does it contain any experi-
mental reasoning concerning matter of fact and existence 1 No.
Commit it then to the flames : for it can contain nothing
but sophistry and illusion.
AN ENQUIRY
CONCERNING THE
PRINCIPLES QF MORALS
AN ENQUIRY
CONCERNING THE
PRINCIPLES OF MORALS
SECTION I:
OF THK GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALS.
133 Disputes with men, pertinaciously obstinate in their
principles, are, of all others, the most irksome; except,
perhaps, those with persons, entirely disingenuous, who
really do not believe the opinions they defend, but engage in
the controversy, from affectation, from a spirit of opposition,
or from a desire of showing wit and ingenuity, superior to
the rest of mankind. The same blind adherence to their own
arguments is to be expected in both ; the same contempt of
their antagonists ; and the same passionate vehemence, in
inforcing sophistry and falsehood. And as reasoning is
not the source, whence either disputant derives his tenets.;
it is in vain to expect, that any logic, which speaks not
to the affections, will ever engage him to embrace sounder
principles.
Those who have denied the reality of moral distinctions,
may be ranked among the disingenuous disputants ; nor is
it conceivable, that any human creature could ever seriously
believe, that all characters and actions were alike entitled to
170 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. I.
the affection and regard of everyone. The difference, which
nature has placed between one man and another, is so wide,
and this difference is still so much farther widened, by
education, example, and habit, that, where the opposite
extremes come at once under our apprehension, there is no
scepticism so scrupulous, and scarce any assurance so
determined, as absolutely to deny all distinction between
them. Let a man's insensibility be ever so great, he must
often be touched with the images of Right and Wrong j and
let his prejudices be ever so obstinate, he must observe,
that others are susceptible of hke impressions. The only
way, therefore, of converting an antagonist of this kind, is to
leave him to himself. For, finding that nobody keeps up
the controversy with him, it is probable he will, at last, of
himself, from mere weariness, come over to the side of
common sense and reason.
134 There has been a controversy started of late, much better
worth examination, concerning the general foundation of
Morals ; whether they be derived from Reason, or from
Sentiment ; whether we attain the knowledge of them by
a chain of argument and induction, or by an immediate feel-
ing and finer internal sense ; whether, like all sound judge-
"^ ment of truth and falsehood, they should be the same to
every rational intelligent being ; or whether, like the percep-
tion of beauty and deformity, they be founded entirely on
the particular fabric and constitution of the human species.
The ancient philosphers, though they often affirm, that
virtue is nothing but conformity to reason, yet, in general,
seem to consider morals as deriving their existence from
taste and sentiment. On the other hand, our modern
enquirers, though they also talk much of the beauty of virtue,
and deformity of vice, yet have commonly endeavoured to
account for these distinctions by metaphysical reasonings,
and by deductions from the most abstract principles of the
understanding. Such confusion reigned in these subjects,
Sect. I.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 171
that an opposition of the greatest consequence could prevail
between one system and another, and even in the parts of
almost each individual system ; and yet nobody, till very
lately, was ever sensible of it. The elegant Lord Shaftesbury,
who first gave occasion to remark this distinction, and who,
in general, adhered to the principles of the ancients, is not,
himself, entirely free from the same confusion.
135 It must be acknowledged, that both sides of the question
are susceptible of specious arguments. Moral distinctions, it
may be said, are discernible by pure reason : else, whence
the many disputes that reign in common life, as well as in
philosophy, with regard to this subject : the long chain of
proofs often produced on both sides ; the examples cited, the
authorities appealed to, the analogies employed, the fallacies
detected, the inferences drawn, and the several conclusions
adjusted to their proper principles. Truth is disputable;
not taste : what exists in the nature of things is the standard
of our judgement ; what each man feels within himself is the
standard of sentiment. Propositions in geometry may be
proved, systems in physics may be controverted ; but the
harmony of verse, the tenderness of passion, the brilliancy
of wit, must give immediate pleasure. No man reasons
concerning another's beauty ; but frequently concerning the
justice or injustice of his actions. In every criminal trial
the first object of the prisoner is to disprove the facts alleged,
and deny the actions imputed to him : the second to prove,
that, even if these actions were real, they might be justified,
as innocent and lawful. It is confessedly by deductions of
the understanding, that the first point is ascertained : how
can we suppose that a different faculty of the mind is
employed in fixing the other?
136 On the other hand, those who would resolve all moral
determinations into sentiment, may endeavour to show, that
it is impossible for reason ever to draw conclusions of this
nature. To virtue, say they, it belongs to be amiable, and
172 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. I.
vice odious. This forms their very nature or essence. But
can reason or argumentation distribute these different
epithets to any subjects, and pronounce beforehand, that
this must produce love, and that hatred ? Or what other
reason can we ever assign for these affections, but the
original fabric and formation of the human mind, which is
naturally adapted to receive them ?
The end of all moral speculations is to teach us our duty ;
and, by proper representations of the deformity of vice and
beauty of virtue, beget correspondent habits, and engage us
to avoid the one, and embrace the other. But is this ever
to be expected from inferences and conclusions of the under-
standing, which of themselves have no hold of the affections
or set in motion the active powers of men ? They discover
truths : but where the truths which they discover are
indifferent, and beget no desire or aversion, they can have
no influence on conduct and behaviour. What is honour-
able, what is fair, what is becoming, what is noble, what is
generous, takes possession of the heart, and animates us
to embrace and maintain it. What is intelligible, what is
evident, what is probable, what is true, procures only the
cool assent of the understanding ; and gratifying a specu-
lative curiosity, puts an end to our researches.
Extinguish all the warm feelings and prepossessions
in favour of virtue, and all disgust' or aversion to vice :
render men totally indifferent towards these distinctions ;
and morality is no longer a practical study, nor has any
tendency to regulate our lives and actions.
137 These arguments on each side (and many more might be
produced) are so plausible, that I am apt to suspect, they
may, the one as well as the other, be solid and satisfactory,
and that reason and sentiment concur in almost all moral
determinations and conclusions. The final sentence, it is
probable, which pronounces characters and actions amiable
or odious, praise-worthy or blameable ; that which stamps
Sect. I.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 173
on them the mark of honour or infamy, approbation or
censure; that which renders morality an active principle
and constitutes virtue our happinessj and vice our misery :
it is probable, I say, that this final sentence depends on
some internal sense or feeling, which nature has made
universal in the whole species. For what else can have an
influence of this nature ? But in order to pave the way for
such a sentiment, and give a proper discernment of its object,
it is often necessary, we find, that much reasoning should
precede, that nice distinctions be made, just conclusions
drawn, distant comparsions formed, complicated relations
examined, and general facts fixed and ascertained. Some
species of beauty, especially the natural kinds, on their first
appearance, command our affection and approbation ; and
where they fail of this effect, it is impossible for any reasoning
to redress their influence, or adapt them better to our taste
and sentiment. But in many orders of beauty, particularly
those of the finer arts, it is requisite to employ much reason-
ing, in order to feel the proper sentiment ; and a false relish
may frequently be corrected by argument and reflection.
There are just grounds to conclude, that moral beauty
partakes much of this latter species, and demands the
assistance of our intellectual faculties, in order to give it a
suitable influence on the human mind.
138 . But though this question, concerning the general principles
of morals, be curious and important, it is needless for us, at
present, to employ farther care in our researches concerning
it. For if we can be so happy, in the course of this enquiry,
as to discover the true origin of morals, it will then easily
appear how far either sentiment or reason enters into all
determinations of this nature*. In order to attain this
purpose, we shall endeavour to follow a very simple method :
we shall analyse that complication of mental qualities, which
form what, in common life, we call Personal Merit : we shall
' See Appendix I.
174 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. I.
consider every attribute of the mind, which renders a man an
object either of esteem and affection, or of hatred and
contempt; every habit or sentiment or faculty, which, if
ascribed to any person, impHes either praise or blame, and
may enter into any panegyric or satire of his character and
manners. The quick sensibihty, which, on this head, is so
universal among mankind, gives a philosopher sufficient
assurance, that he can never be considerably mistaken in
framing the catalogue, or incur any danger of misplacing the
objects of his contemplation : he needs only enter into his
own breast for a moment, and consider whether or not he
^hould desire to have this or that quality ascribed to him,
and whether such or such an imputation would proceed from
a friend or an enemy. The very nature of language guides
us almost infallibly in forming a judgement of this nature ;
and as every tongue possesses one set of words which are
»^aken in a good sense, and another in the opposite, the least
acquaintance with the idiom suffices, without any reasoning,
to direct us in collecting and arranging the estimable or
blameable qualities of men. The only object of reasoning
is to discover the circumstances on both sides, which are
common to these qualities ; to observe that particular in
which the estimable qualities agree on the one hand, and the
blameable on the other ; and thence to reach the foundation
of ethics, and find those universal principles, from which all
censure or approbation is ultimately derived. As this is a
question of fact, not of abstract science, we can only expect
success, by following the experimental method, and deducing
general maxims from a comparison of particular instances.
The other scientific method, where a general abstract prin-
ciple is first established, and is afterwards branched out
into a variety of inferences and conclusions, may be more
perfect in itself, but suits less the imperfection of human
nature, and is a common source of illusion and mistake in
this as well as in other subjects. Men are not cured of
SectlJ THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 175
their passion for hypotheses and systems in natural philo-
sophy, and will hearken to no arguments but those which
are derived from experience. It is full time they should
attempt a like reformation in all moral disquisitions ; and
reject every system of ethics, however subtle or ingenious,
which is not founded on fact and observation.
We shall begin our enquiry on this head by the considera-
tion of the social virtues, Benevolence and Justice. The
explication of them will probably give us an opening by
which the others may be accounted for.
SECTION II.
OF BENEVOLENCE.
Part I.
139 It may be esteemed, perhaps, a superfluous task to prove,
that the benevolent or softer affections are estimable ; and
wherever they appear, engage the approbation and good-will
of mankind. The epithets sociable, good-natured, humane,
merciful, grateful, friendly, generous, beneficent, or their
equivalents, are known in all languages, and universally
express the highest merit, which human nature is capable of
attaining. Where these amiable qualities are attended with
birth and power and eminent abilities, and display them-
selves in the good government or useful instruction of
mankind, they seem even to raise the possessors of them
above the rank of human nature, and make them approach
in some measure to the divine. Exalted capacity, un-
daunted courage, prosperous success ; these may only expose
a hero or politician to the envy and ill-will of the public :
but as soon as the praises are added of humane and bene-
ficent ; when instances are displayed of lenity, tenderness or
friendship ; envy itself is silent, or joins the general voice of
approbation and applause.
When Pericles, the great Athenian statesman and general,
was on his death-bed, his surrounding friends, deeming him
now insensible, began to indulge their sorrow for their
expiring patron, by enumerating his great qualities and
COJ^CERNIN-G THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 1>J>J
successes, his conquests and victories, the unusual length
of his administration, and his nine trophies erected over the
enemies of the republic. You forget, cries the dying hero,
who had heard all, you forget the most eminent of my praises,
while you dwell so much on those vulgar advantages, in which
fortune had a principal share. You have not observed that no
■ citizen has ever yet worne mourning on my account^.
In men of more ordinary talents and capacity, the social
virtues become, if possible, still more essentially requisite ;
there being nothing eminent, in that case, to compensate for
the want of them, or preserve the person from our severest
hatred, as well as contempt. A high ambition, an elevated
courage, is apt, says Cicero, in less perfect characters, to
degenerate into a turbulent ferocity. The more social and
softer virtues are there chiefly to be regarded. These are
always good and amiable "-
The principal advantage, which Juvenal discovers in the
extensive capacity of the human species, is that it renders
our benevolence also more extensive, and gives us larger
opportunities of spreading our kindly influence than what
are indulged to the inferior creation '. It must, indeed, be
confessed, that by doing good only, can a man truly enjoy
the advantages of being eminent. His exalted station, of
itself but the more exposes him to danger and tempest. His
sole prerogative is to afford shelter to inferiors, who repose
themselves under his cover and protection.
140 But I forget, that it is not my present business to recom-
mend generosity and benevolence, or to paint, in their
true colours, all the genuine charms of the social virtues.
These, indeed, sufficiently engage every heart, on the first
apprehension of them ; and it is difficult to abstain from
some sally of panegyric, as often as they occur in discourse
or reasoning. But our object here being more the speculative,
1 Plut. in Pericle. " Cic. de Officiis, lib. i.
' Sat. XV. 139 and seq.
N
17* AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING tSe<:t.n,Partll.
than the practical part of morals, it will suffice to remark,
(what will readily, I believe, be allowed) that no qualities
are more intitled to the general good-will and approbation
of mankind than beneficence and humanity, friendship
and gratitude, natural affection and public spirit, or what-
ever proceeds from a tender sympathy with others, and
a generous concern for our kind and species. These
wherever they appear, seem to transfuse themselves, in
a manner, into each beholder, and to call forth, in their own
behalf, the same favourable and affectionate sentiments,
which they exert on all around.
Part II.
141 .—We may observe that, in displaying the praises of any
humane, beneficent man, there is one circumstance which ^t*
z yv^ never fails to be amply insisted on, namely, the happineSs*^ "
V ' 'anfksatisfaction, derived to society from his intercourse and
good offices,* To his parents, we are apt to say, he endears
himself by his pious attachment and duteous care still more
than by the connexions of nature. His children never feel
his authority, but when employed for their advantage.
With him, the ties of love are consolidated by beneficence
and friendship. The ties of friendship approach, in a fond
observance of each obliging office, to those of love and
inclination. His domestics and dependants have in him
a sure resource ; and no longer dread the power of fortune,
but so far as she exercises it over him. From him the
hungry receive food, the naked clothing, the ignorant
and slothful skill and industry. Like the sun, an inferior
minister of providence he cheers, invigorates, and sustains
the surrounding world.
If confined to private life, the sphere of his activity is
narrower; but his influence is all benign and gentle. If
exalted into a higher station, mankind and posterity reap the
fruit of his labours.
Sect. 11, Part II.i THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 179:
•
As these topics of praise never fail to be employed, and
3vith success, where we would inspire esteem for any one ;;
may it not thence be concluded, that the utility, resulting
from the social virtues, forms, at least, a part of their merit,
and is one source of that approbation and regard so uni-
versally paid to them?
:2 When we recommend even an animal or a plant as useful
and beneficial, we give, it an applause and recommendation
suited to its nature. As, on the other hand, reflection on \
the baneful influence of any of these inferior beings always
inspires us with the sentiment of aversion. The eye is
pleased with the prospect of corn-fields and loaded vine-
yards ; horses grazing, and flocks pasturing : but flies the
view of briars and brambles, affording shelter to wolves and
serpents.
A machine, a piece of furniture, a vestment, a house well
contrived for use and conveniency, is so far beautiful, and is
contemplated with pleasure and approbation. An experi-
enced eye is here sensible to many excellencies, which escape,
persons ignorant and uninstructed.'
Can anything stronger be said in praise of a profession,
such as merchandize or manufacture, than to observe the
advantages which it procures to society ; and is not a monk
and inquisitor enraged when we treat his order as useless or
pernicious to mankind?
The historian exults in displaying the benefit arising
from his labours. The writer of romance alleviates or
denies the bad consequences ascribed to his manner of
composition.
In general, what praise is implied in the simple epithet
useful \ What reproach in the contrary !
Your Gods, says Cicero \ in opposition to the Epicureans,
cannot justly claim any worship or adoration, with whatever
imaginary perfections you may suppose them endowed.
» De Nat. Deor. lib. i.
N 2
i8o AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. 11. Part II.
•
They are totally useless and inactive. Even the Egyptians,
whom you so much ridicule, never consecrated any animal
but on account of its utility.
The sceptics assert S though absurdly, that the origin of all
religious worship was derived from the utiUty of inanimate
objects, as the sun and moon, to the support and well-being
of mankind. This is also the common reason assigned
by historians, for the deification of eminent heroes and
legislators '''.
To plant a tree, to cultivate a field, to beget children ;
meritorious acts, according to the religion of Zoroaster.
143 In all determinations of morahty, this circumstance of
public utility is ever principally in view ; and .wherever
disputes arise, either in philosophy or common life, con-
cerning the bounds of duty, the question cannot, by any
means, be decided with greater certainty, than by ascertain-
ing, on any side, the true interests of mankind. If any false
opinion, embraced from appearances, has been found to
prevail ; as soon as farther experience and sounder reasoning
have given us juster notions of human affairs, we retract our
first sentiment, and adjust anew the boundaries of moral
good and evil.
— t Giving alms to common beggars is naturally praised ; be-
cause it seems to carry relief to the distressed and indigent :
but when we observe the encouragement thence arising to
idleness and debauchery, we regard that species of charity
rather as a weakness than a virtue. -^
Tyrannicide, or the assassination of usurpers and oppressive
princes, was highly extolled in ancient times ; because it
both freed mankind from many of these monsters, and
seemed to keep the others in awe, whom the sword or
poinard could not reach. But history and experience
having since convinced us, that this practice increases the
* Sext. Emp. adveisns Math. lib. viii.
* Diod. Sic. passim.
Sect. II, Part 11.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. i8i
jealously and cruelty of princes, a Timoleon and a Brutus,
though treated with indulgence on account of the prejudices
of their times, are now considered as very improper models
for imitation.
Liberality in princes is regarded as a mark of beneficence,
but when it occurs, that the homely bread of the honest and
industrious is often thereby converted into delicious cates for
the idle and the prodigal, we soon retract our heedless
praises. The regrets of a prince, for having lost a day, were
noble and generous : but had he intended to have spent it in
acts of generosity to his greedy courtiers, it was better lost
than misemployed after that manner.
Luxury, or a refinement on the pleasures and conveni-
encies of life, had not long been supposed the source of
every corruption in government, and the immediate cause of
faction, sedition, civil wars, and the total loss of liberty. It
was, therefore, universally regarded as a vice, and was an
object of declamation to all satirists, and severe moralists.
Those, who prove, or attempt to prove, that such refinements
rather tend to the increase of industry, civility, and arts
regulate anew our moral as well as political sentiments, and
represent, as laudable or innocent, what had formerly been
regarded as pernicious and blameable.
144 Upon the whole, then, it seems undeniable, that nothing
can bestow more merit on any human creature than the
-sentiment of benevolence in an eminent degree ; and that a
part, at least, of its merit arises firom its tendency to promote
the interests of our species, and bestow happiness on human
society. We carry our view into the salutary consequences
of such a character and disposition ; and whatever has so
benign an influence, and forwards so desirable an end, is
beheld with complacency and pleasure. The social virtues
are never regarded without their beneficial tendencies, nor
viewed as barren and unfruitful. The happiness of mankind,
the order of society, the harmony of families, the mutual
l82 CONCERNING THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS.
support of friends, are always considered as the result of
their gentle dominion over the breasts of men.
How considerable a part of their merit we ought to
ascribe to their utility, will better appear from future dis-
quisitions ' ; as well as the reason, why this circumstance has
such a command over our esteem and approbation ^*
> Sect. Ill and IV. » Sect. V.
SECTION IIL
OF JUSTICE.
Part I.
145 That Justice is useful to society, and consequently that
part of its merit, at least, must arise from that consideration,
it would be a superfluous undertaking to prove. That publ ic ^^,' '
utility is the sole origin of justice, and that reflections on ^ '^^
t he beneficj aLcflnseq.uences^fthis vir tue are the sole founda-
tion_of_itS-meriL.;- this proposition, being more curious and
important, will better deserve our examination and enquiry.
Let u^;Jupp^e;>hat nature has bestowed on the human
race such profuse abundance of all external convenien-
cies, that, without any uncertainty in the event, without
any care or industry on our part, every individual finds
himself fully provided with whatever his most voracious
appetites can want, or luxurious imagination wish or '^^'^
desire. His natural beauty, we shall suppose, surpasses '^^'-^
all acquired ornaments: the perpetual clemency of the
seasons rendfrs useless all clothes or covering : the raw
herbage affords him the most delicious farej the clear
fountain, the richest beverage. No laborious occupation
required : no tillage : no navigation. Music, poetry, and
contemplation form his sole business : conversation, mirth,
and friendship his sole amusement.
It seems evident that, in such a happy state, every other
social virtue would flourish, and receive tenfold increase;
184 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. Ill, Part I.
/-
but the cautious, jealous virtue of justice would never once
have been dreamed of. For what purpos£ jQake.ajartition
-T o f goods, w here_£Kery jODe_ha§„ akgad-X-more .than enough ?
Why give rise to property, where there cannot possibly be
^ any injury? Why call this object mine, when upon the
seizing of it by another, I need but stretch out my hand to
possess myself to what is equally valuable ? Justice, in that
case, being totally useless, would be an idle ceremonial,
and could never possibly have place in the catalogue of
virtues.
We see, even in the present necessitous condition of
mankind, that, wherever any benefit is bestowed by nature
in an unlimited abundance, we leave it always in common
among the whole human race, and make no subdivisions
of right and property. Water and air, though the most
necessary of all objects, are not challenged as the property
of individuals ; nor can any man commit injustice by the
most lavish use and enjoyment of these blessings. In fertile
extensive countries, with few inhabitants, land is regarded
on the same footing. And no topic is so much insisted on
by those, who defend the liberty of the seas, as the unex-
hausted use of them in navigation. Were the advantages,
procured by navigation, as inexhaustible, these reasoners had
never had any adversaries to refute ; nor had any claims
ever been advanced of a separate, exclusive dominion over
the ocean.
It may happen, in some countries, at some periods, that
there be established a property in water, none in land ^ ; if
the latter be in greater abundance than can be used by the
inhabitants, and the former be found, with difficulty, and in
very small quantities.
146 Again ; supp^, that, though the necessities of human
race continue the same as at present, yet the mind is so
enlarged, and so replete with friendship and generosity,
A f. (, ' Genesis, chaps, xiii and xxi.
Sect. III. Part I.) THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 185
that every man has the utmost tenderness for every man,
and feels no more concern for his own interest than for
that of his fellows ; it seems evident, that the use of
justice would, in this case, be suspended by such an
extensive benevolence, nor would the divisions and barriers
of property and obligation have ever been thought of. Why
should I bind another, by a deed or promise, to do me any
good office, when I know that he is already prompted, by
the strongest inclination, to seek my happiness, and would,
of himself, perform the desired service ; except the hurt, he
thereby receives, be greater than the benefit accruing to me ?
in which case, he knows, that, from my innate humanity
and friendship, I should be the first to oppose myself to his
imprudent generosity. Why raise land-marks between my
neighbour's field and mine, when my heart has made no
division between our interests ; but shares all his joys and
sorrows with the same force and vivacity as if origihally my
own ? Every man, upon this supposition, being a second
self to another, would trust all his interests to the discretion
of every man ; without jealousy, without partition, without
distinction. And the whole human race would form only
one family ; where all would lie in common, and be used
freely, without regard to property ; but cautiously too, with
as entire regard to the necessities of each individual, as if
our own interests were most intimately concerned.
In the present disposition of the human heart, it would,
perhaps, be difficult to find complete instances of such
enlarged affections ; but still we may observe, that the case
of families approaches towards it ; and the stronger the
mutual benevolence is among the individuals, the nearer it
approaches ; till all distinction of property be, in a great
measure, lost and confounded among them. Between
le cement of friendship is by the laws
as to abolish all division of possessions ;
and has often, in reality, the force ascribed to it. And it is
1 86 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. Ill, Part I.
observable, that, during the ardour of new enthusiasms,
when every principle is inflamed into extravagance, the
community of goods has frequently been attempted ; and
nothing but experience of its inconveniencies, from the
returning or disguised selfishness of men, could make the
imprudent fanatics adopt anew the ideas of justice and of
', ny j separate property. So true is it, that thisjvirtuejieiiyes its
[, ^s*- existe nce e ntirely_Jmm-it&~n&eessary--z^i£^o-tbe-Hrt€r-course
)>V and_social^ state jjfjnankind.
147 To make this truth more evident, let us reverse the fore-
going suppositions ; and carrying everything to the opposite
extreme, consider what would be the effect of these new
situations. Suppose a society to fall into such want of all
common necessaries, that the utmost frugality and industry
cannot preserve the greater number from perishing, and the
whole from extreme misery; it will readily, I believe, be
admitted, that the strict laws of justice are suspended, in
such a pressing emergence, and give place to the stronger
motives of necessity and self-preservation. Is it any crime,
after a shipwreck, to seize whatever means or instrument of
safety one can lay hold of, without regard to former limita-
tions of property ? Or if a city besieged were perishing with
\(t' hunger; can we imagine, that men will see any means of
' preservation before them, and lose their lives, from a scrupu-
lous regard to what, in other situations, would be the rules
^.V' of equity and justice? The use and tendency of that virtue
0" is to procure happiness and security, by preserving order in
society : but where the society is ready to perish from
extreme necessity, no greater evil can be dreaded from
violence and injustice ; and every man may now provide
for himself by all the means, which prudence can dictate,
or humanity permit. The public, even in less urgent
necessities, opens granaries, without the consent of pro-
prietors ; as justly supposing, that the authority of magistracy
may, consistent with equity, extend so far : but were any
Sect. Ill, Part I] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 187
number of men to assemble, without the tie of laws or civil
jurisdiction ; would an equafpartition of bread in a famine,
though effected by power and even violence, be regarded as
criminal or injurious ?
,48 Suppose likewise, that it should be a virtuous man's fate
to fall into the society of ruffians, remote trom the protection
of laws and government; what conduct must he embrace
in that melancholy situation ? He sees such a desperate
rapaciousness prevail ; such a disregard to equity, such con-
tempt of order, such stupid blindness to future consequences, UjAy ^
as must immediately have the most tragical conclusion, ando "tKc
must terminate in destruction to the greater number, and inA.
a total dissolution of society to the rest. He, meanwhile, can ^
have no other expedient than to arm himself, to whomever doQ-^
the sword he seizes, or the buckler, may belong : To make .,
provi sion of all means of defence and s ecurity : And his
particular regard to justice being no longer of use to his own ,. j
safety or that of others, he must consult the dictates of f'
self-preservation alone, without concern for those who no
longer merit his care and attention.
When any man, even in political society, renders himself
by his crimes, obnoxious to the public, he is punished by
the laws in his goods and person ; that is, the ordinary rules
of justice are, with regard to him, suspended for a moment,
and it becomes equitable to inflict on him, for the benefit of
society, what otherwise he could not suffer without wrong
or injury.
The rage and violence of publje w ajuj^what is it but
a suspension of justice among the warring parties, who
perceive, t hat this virtue is now no longer of an y use o r
advantage to them ? The laws of war, which then succeed
to those of equity and justice, are rules calculated for the
advantage and utility of that particular state, in which men
are now placed. And were a civilized nation engaged with
barbarians, who observed no rules even of war, the former
i88 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. Ill, Part I.
must also suspend their observance of them, where they no
longer serve to any purpose ; and must render every action
or rencounter as bloody and pernicious as possible to the
first aggressors.
149 Thus, the r ules of equity or justice de ppnH pntirply on
the particular state and co ndition in which men are place d,
anH~owe "tKeir ori gin and existence to that utility, whi ch
r esults tolhe p ublic from their strict and regular observancfi .
Reverse, in any considerable circumstance, the condition of
men : Produce extreme abundance or extreme necessity :
Implant in the human breast perfect moderation and
humanity, or perfect rapaciousness and malice : .Ey_render-
ing-4 ustice t otally useless, yQ u__thereby-tetaHy-destrey^its
essence, and suspend its obligalLon jipojijnankind.
The common situation of society is a medium amidst all
these extremes. We are naturally partial to ourselves, and
to our friends ; but are capable of learning the advantage
resulting from a more equitable conduct. Few enjoyments
are given us from the open and liberal hand of nature ; but
by art, labour, and industry, we can extract them in great
abundance. Hence the ideas of property become necessary
in all civil society : Hence justice derives its usefulness to
the public : And hence alone arises its merit and moral
obligation.
150 These conclusions are so natural and obvious, that they
have not escaped even the poets, in their descriptions of the
felicity attending the golden age or the reign of Saturn.
The seasons, in that first period of nature, were so tem-
perate, if we credit these agreeable fictions, that there was
no necessity for men to provide themselves with clothes and
houses, as a security against the violence of heat and cold :
The rivers flowed with wine and milk : The oaks yielded
honey ; and nature spontaneously produced her greatest
delicacies. Nor were these the chief advantages of that happy
age. Tempests were not alone removed from nature ; but
Sect, in, Part I.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 189
those more furious tempests were unknown to human
breasts, which now cause such uproar, and engender such
confusion. Avarice, ambition, cruelty, selfishness, were
never heard of: Cordial affection, compassion, sympathy,
were the only movements with which the mind was yet
acquainted. Even the punctilious distinction of mine and
thine was banished from among that happy race of mortals,
and carried with it the very notion of property and obliga-
tion, justice and injus tice.
151 Thifj^^ a/ fiction of the g oldetTa^^, in some respects,
of a piece with therphilosophual fiction of the state ofnalufe^
only that the former is represented as the most charming
and most peaceable condition, which can possibly be
imagined ; whereas the latter is painted out as a state of
mutual war and violence, attended with the most extreme
necessity. On the first origin of mankind, we are told,
their ignorance and savage nature were so prevalent, that
they could give no mutual trust, but must each depend upon
himself and his own force or canning for protection and
securityCP No law was heard of !TJo rule of justice known :
(34Jo distinction oi^ property regardecrVPower was the only
measure of righlp^nd a perpetual war of all against all was
the result of men's untamed selfishness and barbarity '.
' This fic tion of a state of nature, as a state of war, was not first
started h ^^r. Hobb es^as is commonly imagined. Plato endeavours
to refute an hypothes^ very like it in the second, third, and fourth books
de republica. Cicero, on the contrary, supposes it certain and
universally acknowledged in the following passage. ' Quisenim vestrum,
jndices, ignorat, ita naturam rerum tulisse, ut quodam tempore homines,
nondum neque naturali neque civili jure descripto, fusi per agros ac
dispersi vagarentur tantnmque haberent quantum manu ac viribus, per
caedem ac vulnera, aut eripere aut retinere potuissent? Qui igitur
primi virtute & consilio praestanti extiterunt, ii perspecto genere
humanae docilitatis atque ingenii, dissipates unum in locum con-
gregarunt, eosque ex feritate ilia ad justitiam ac mansnetudinem trans-
duxerunt. Tum res ad communem utilitatem, quas publicas appellamus,
tum conventicnla hominnm, quae postea civitates nominatae sunt, tum
domicilia conjuncta, quas urbes dicamus, invento & divmo & hnmano
190 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. Ill, Part I.
Whether such a condition of human nature could ever
exist, or if it did, could continue so long as to merit the
appellation of a state, may justly be doubted. Men ar e
necessarily born iri^_ family-socieLv . — at_leaat; and are
trained up by their parents to some rule of conduct and
behaviour. But this must be admitted, that, if s uch a state
o f mutua l war, and- violeRGe was, ever real, the suspergiwi of
all laws of justice, frmn their abs^glutejni^^^
and infallible consequence;--
152 The more we vary our views of human life, and the
newer and more unusual the lights are in which we
survey it, the more shall we be convinced, that the
origin here assigned for the virtue of justice is real and
satisfactory.
j^i Were there a species of creatures intermingled with
men, which, though rational, were possessed of such inferior
> j^> strength, both of body and mind, that they were incapable
^' ^ of all resistance, and could never, upon the highest pro-
vocation, make us feel the effects of their resentment ; the
necessary consequence, I think, is that we should be bound
by the laws of humanity to give gentle usage to these
creatures, but should not, properly speaking, lie under any
restraint of justice with regard to them, nor could they
possess any right or property, exclusive of such arbitrary
lords. Our intercourse with them could not be called
society, which sujgposes^degree of equality^ but absolute
command on the oije side, and servile obedience on the
pthefr""Whatever we covet, they must ihstantly~f^gn:
Our permission is the only tenure, by which they hold their
possessions : Our compassion and kindness the only check,
jnre, moenibus sepserunt. Atque inter hanc vitam, perpolitam hnmani-
tate, & illam immanem, nihil tam interest quam JUS atque VIS.
Homm utro uti nolimus, altero est utendnm. Vim volumus extingni.
Jus valeat necesse est, id est, judicia, quibus omne jus continetur.
Judicia displicent, aut nulla sunt. Vis dominetur necesse est. Haec
vident omnes.' Pro Sext. §. 42.
,\
Sect III. Part IJ THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. I9I
by which they curb our lawless will : ABd_3S_noincon-
venience ever results from the exercise of a power, sofinnly
established in nature, the restraints of jus tice a nd property,
b eing totally useless, would never ha ve place in so^ miequal
a^confedfirary.
This is plainly the situation of men, with regard to
animals ; and how far these may be said to possess reason,
I leave it to others to determine. The great superior ity of j
civilized Europeans above b arbarous Indians, tempted us
to imagine ourselves on the same footing with regard to L
them, and made us throw off all restraints of justice, arid
even ofTiumanity, in our treatment of them. In many-^>>,^
nations, t ne lemaTe sex are reduced t o like slavery, and are
rendered^ incapable of all property, in opposition to their
lordly masters. But though the males, when united, have
in all countries bodily force sufficient to maintain this
severe tyranny, yet such are the iiisinuation, address, and
I charms of their fair companions, that women are commonly
ableTo break the confederacy, and share with the other sex
in all the rights and privileges of society.
13 Were the human species so framed by nature as that
each individual possessed within himself ^very faculty, re-
quisite both for Tils^wn^reservatjpn andjorjhe propagation
bt j us kmd : Were all society and intercourse cut off between
man and man, by the primary intention of the supreme
Creator : It seems evident, that so solitary a being would be
as inuch incapable of justice, as of social discourse and con-
vejsatioii' — .Where mutual regards and forbearance serve to
no manner of purpose, they would never direct the conduct
of any reasonable man. The headlong course of the
passions would be checked by no reflection on future con-
sequences. And as each man is here supposed to love him-
self alone, and to depend only on himself and his own activity
for safety and happiness, he would, on every occasion, to
the utmost of his power, challenge the preference above
192 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect in. Part If.
every other being, to none of which he is bound by any ties,
either of nature or of interest.
But suppose the conjunction of the sexes to be estab-
lished in nature, a family immediately arises ; and parti-
cular rules being found requisite for its subsistence, these
are immediately embraced ; though without comprehending
the rest of mankind within their prescriptions. Suppose
that several families unite together into one society, which
is totally disjoined from all others, the rules, which preserve
peace and order, enlarge themselves to the utmost extent of
that society ; but becoming then entirely useless, lose their
force when carried one step farther. But again suppose,
that several distinct societies maintain a kind of intercourse
for mutual convenience and advantage, the boundaries of
justice still grow larger, in proportion to the largeness of
men's views, and the force of their mutual connexions.
History, experience, reason sufiSciently instruct us in this
natural progress of human sentiments, and in the gradual
enlargement of our regards to justice, in proportion as
we become acquainted with the extensive utility of that
virtue.
Part II.
>4 If we examine the particular laws, by which justice is
directed, and property determined; we shall still be pre-
sented with the same conclusion. The good of mankind
is the only object of all these laws and regulations. Not
only it is requisite, for the peace and interest of society,
that men's possessions should be separated ; but the rules,
which we follow, in making the separation, are such as
can best be contrived to serve farther the interests of
society.
We shall §iippose)that a creature, possessed of reason,
but unacquaint:ed"with human nature, deliberates with him-
self what rules of justice or property would best promote
Sect. Ill, Part ll.l THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 193
public interest, and establish peace and security among
mankind : His most obvious thought would be, to assign
the largest pos sessions to the most extensive virtue, and
give every one the power of doing good, proportioned to his
inclination. In a perfect theocracy, where a being, infinitely
intelligent, governs by particular volitions, this rule would
certainly have place, and might serve to the wisest purposes :
But were mankind to execute such a lawj so great is the
uncertainty of merit, both from its natural obscurity, and
from the self-conceit of each individual, that no determinate
rule of conduct would ever result from it ; and the total
dissolution of society must be the immediate consequence.
Fanatics may suppose, that dominion is founded on grace, and
that saints alone inherit the earth ; but the civil magistrate
very justly puts these sublime theorists on the same footing
with common robbers, and teaches them by the severest
discipline, that a rule, which, in speculation, may seem the
most advantageous to society, may yet be found, in practice,
totally pernicious and destructive.
That there were religious fanatics of this kind in England,
during the civil wars, we learn from history; though it is pro-
bable, that the obvious tendency of these principles excited
such horror in mankind, as soon obliged the dangerous
enthusiasts to renounce, or at least conceal their tenets.
Perhaps the levellers, who claimed an equal distribution of
property, were a kind of political fanatics, which arose from
the religious species, and more openly avowed their preten-
sions; as carrying a more plausible appearance, of being
practicable in themselves, as well as useful to human society.
156 It must, indeed, be confessed, that nature is so liberal to
mankind, that, were all her presents equally divided among
the species, and improved by art and industry, every indi-
vidual would enjoy all the necessaries, and even most of
the comforts of life ; nor would ever be liable to any ills, but
such as might accidentally arise from the sickly frame and
194 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. Ill, Part II.
constitution of his body. It must also be confessed, that,
wherever we depart from this equality, we rob the poor of
more satisfaction than we add to the rich, and that the
slight gratification of a frivolous vanity, in one individual,
frequently costs more than bread to many families, and even
provinces. It may appear withal, that the rule of equality,
as it would be highly useful, is not altogether impracticable ;
but has taken place, at least in an imperfect degree, in some
republics ; particularly that of Sparta ; where it was attended,
it is said, with the most beneficial consequences. Not to
mention that the Agrarian laws, so frequently claimed in
Rome, and carried into execution in many Greek cities,
proceeded, all of them, from a general idea of the utility of
this principle,
i, But historians, and even common sense, may inform us,
j j rthat, however specious these ideas of /^;;7^(r/ eguaUtjjmay
\ .'seem, they are really, at botlomTji^^^S?^ and were
■ theyTiot so, would Tie'extremely/erw/nV'aj to human society.
Render^ossessions ever so equal, men's differeuLjdegrfies-.of
art, care, and indjislryr]^tltJtnmgdMeTj^~Bfeak^ equality.
Or if you check these virtues, you reduce society to the most
extreme indigence; and instead of preventing want and
beggary in a few, render it unavoidable to the whole com-
munity. The most rigorous inquisition too is requisite to
watch every inequality on its first appearance ; and the most
severe jurisdiction, to punish and redress it. But besides,
that so much authority must soon degenerate into tyranny,
and be exerted with great partialities ; who can possibly be
possessed of it, in such a situation as is here supposed?
Perfect equality of possessions, destroying all subordination,
weakens extremely the authority of magistracy, and must
reduce all power nearly to a level, as well as property.
156 We may conclude, therefore, that, in order to establish
laws for the regulation of property, we must be acquainted
with the nature and situation of man; must reject
Sect, in, Part II.3 THK PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 195
appearances, which may be false, though specious ; and.
must search for those rules, which are, on the whole, most
useful and beneficial. Vulgar sense and slight experience
are sufiScient for this purpose ; where men give not way to \j^
too seliish avidity, or too extensive enthusiasm. (J/H"^
Who sees not, for instance, t hat whatever is._D raduced- or /»n
__i mproved by a man's art _or jndusJty. jaught^-foiueKeviQ,. be
see ded ■ to_ him, in order to give encouragement tcr-such
useful habits and accomplishments? That the property
ougEF"als^To" descend to children and relations, for the ^S
same «jg/S7purpose ? ThanTmay be alienated by consent,
in"order'to beget thaTcommerce and Jntercourse, which is StP
so l>eneficia7 to human society ?_AndJ^ha.t. all contracts and
promises ought ^arefully to _be_^fulfiJl,ed.,„ia„oi:der to secure (JL^
mutual trusifand confidence, by which the^general interest ~ ^
of mankind-is-so ffilj'cirpromoted ? r-O^U m^S^
Examine the writers on the laws of nature; and you will ^
always find, that, whatever principles they set out with, they
are sure to terminate here at last, and to assign, as the
ultimate reason for every rule which they establish, the
convenience and necessities of mankind. A concession thus
extorted, in opposition to systems, has more authority than
if it had been made in prosecution of them.
What other reason, indeed, could writers ever give, why
this must be mim and that yours ; since uninstructed nature
surely never made any such distinction ? The objects which
receive those appellations are, of themselves, foreign to us ;
they are totally disjoined and separated from us; and
jnothing but the general interests of society can form the
connexion.
7 Sometimes the interests of society may require a rule of
justice in a particular case ; but may not determine any par-
ticular rule, among several, which are all equally beneficial.
In that case, the slightest analogies are laid hold of, in order
to prevent that indifference and ambiguity, which would be
2
1 96 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. Ill, Part II.
the source of perpetual dissension. Thus possession alone;
and first possession, is supposed to convey property, where
no body else has any preceding claim and pretension.
Many of the reasonings of lawyers are of this analogical
nature, and depend on very slight connexions of the
imagination.
Does any one scruple, in extraordinary cases, to violate
all regard to the private property of individuals, and sacrifice
to public interest a distinction, which had been established
for the sake of that interest ? The safet y of the people is the
s upreme la w: All other particul ar laws are subordinate" to
it, and dependent on it : And if, in the common course of
things, th^fiie tdiowed and regarded ; it is only because
the public safety and interest commonly demand so equal
and impartial an administration.
Somedines bqyi_j^
208 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. iv.
to the young ; and that women, continually foreseeing that
a certain time would bring them the liberty of indulgence,
would naturally advance that period, and think more lightly
V of this whole duty, so requisite to society.
,168 Those who live in the same family have such frequent
^ opportunities of licence of this kind, that nothing could pre-
^ serve purity of manners, were marriage allowed, among the
■ ': '-Nearest relations, or any intercourse of love between them
y ratified by law and custom. Incest, therefore, being /e/-«/iCM«j
y in a superior degree, has also a superior turpitude and moral
deformity annexed to it.
What is the reason, why, by the Athenian laws, one might
marry a half-sister by the father, but not by the mother ?
Plainly this : The manners of the Athenians were so
reserved, that a man was never permitted to approach the
women's apartment, even in the same family, unless where
he visited his own mother. His step-mother and her children
were as much shut up from him as the women of any other
family, and there was as little danger of any criminal corre-
spondence between them. Uncles and nieces, for a like
reason, might marry at Athens ; but neither tbese, nor half-
brothers and sisters, could contract that alliance at Rome,
where the intercourse was more open between the sexes.
Public-Utility is the cause of all these variations.
169 To repeat, to a man's prejudice, anything that escaped
him in private conversation, or to make any such use of his
private letters, is highly blamed. The free and social inter-
course of minds must be extremely checked, where no such
rules of fidelity are established.
Even in repeating stories, whence we can foresee no ill
consequences to result, the giving of one's author is regarded
as a piece of indiscretion, if not of immorality. These
stories, in passing from hand to hand, and receiving all the
usual variations, frequently come about to the persons
concerned, and produce animosities and quarrels among
Sect. IV.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 200
people, whose intentions are the most innocent and in-
offensive.
To pry into secrets, to open or even read the letters of.
others, to play the spy upon their words and looli^ and
actions ; what habits more inconvenient in society ? What
habits, of consequence, more blameable ?
This principle is also the foundation of most of the laws
of good manners ; a kind of lesser morality, calculated for
the ease of company and conversation. Too much or too
little ceremony are both blamed, and everything, which
promotes ease, without an indecent familiarity, is useful and
laudable.
Constancy in friendships, attachments, and familiarities,
is commendable, and is requisite to support trust and good
correspondence in society. But in places of general, though
casual concourse, where the pursuit of health and pleasure
brings people promiscuously together, public conveniency
has dispensed with this maxim j and custom there promotes
an unreserved conversation for the time, by indulging the
privilege of dropping afterwards every indifferent acquaint-
ance, without breach of civility or good manners.
Even in societies, which are established on principles the
most immoral, and the most destructive to the interests
of the general society, there are required certain rules,
which a species of false honour, as well as private interest,
engages the members to observe. Robbers and pirates,
it has often been remarked, could not maintain their
pernicious confederacy, did they not establish a new
distributive justice among themselves, and recall those
laws of equity, which they have violated with the rest of
mankind.
/L Jiate a drin king companion, says the Greek proverb,
fwho never foige ts^^ 'l'RFT^ lies- of the Jlast_debaucli-should
l}e_burifidjil eternal oblivion, in order„to-give-fuil~seope to
the follies of the next.
2IO AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. IV.
171 Among nations, where an immoral gallantry, if covered
with a thin veil of mystery, is, in some degree, authorized
by custom, there immediately arise a set of rules, calculated
for the conveniency of that attachment. The famous court
or parliament of love in Provence formerly decided all
difficult cases of this nature.
In societies for play, there are laws required for the
conduct of the game ; and these laws are different in each
game. The foundation, I own, of such societies is frivolous ;
and the laws are, in a great measure, though not altogether,
capricious and arbitrary. So far is there a material difference
between them and the rules of justice, fidelity, and loyalty.
The general societies of men are absolutely requisite for the
subsistence of the species; and the public conveniency,
which regulates morals, is inviolably established in the nature
of man, and of the world, in which he lives. The com-
parison, therefore, in these respects, is very imperfect. We
may only learn from it the necessity of rules, wherever men
have any intercourse with each other.
They cannot even pass each other on the road without
rules. Waggoners, coachmen, and postilions have principles,
by which they give the way; and these are chiefly founded
on mutual ease and convenience. Sometimes also they are
arbitrary, at least dependent on a kind of capricious analogy
like many of the reasonings of lawyers '.
To carry the matter farther, we may observe, that it
is impossible for men so much as to murder each other
without statutes, and maxims, and an idea of justice and
* That the lighter machine yield to the heavier, and, in machines of
the same kind, that the empty yield to the loaded ; this rule is founded
on convenience. That those who are going to the capital take place of
those who are coming from it ; this seems to be founded on some idea of
the dignity of the giieat city, and of the preference of the future to the
past. From like reasons, among foot-walkers, the right-hand entitles
a man to the wall, and prevents jostling, which peaceable people find
very disagreeable and inconvenient.
Sect. IV,;
THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS.
211
honour. War has its laws as well as peace ; and even that
sportive kind of war, carried on among wrestlers, boxers,
cudgel-players, gladiators, is regulated by fixed principles.
Common interest and utility beget infallibly a standard of
right and wrong among the parties concerned.
» %
SECTION V.
WHY UTILITY PLEASES.
Part I.
172 It seems so natural a thought to ascribe to their utility
the praise, which we bestow on the social virtues, that one
would expect to meet with this principle everywhere in
moral writers, as the chief foundation of their reasoning
and enquiry. In common life, we may observe, that the
circumstance of utility is always appealed to; nor is it
supposed, that a greater eulogy can be given to any man,
than to display his usefulness to the public, and enumerate
the services, which he has performed to mankind and
society. What praise, even of an inanimate form, if the
regularity and elegance of its parts destroy not its fitness for
any useful purpose ! And how satisfactory an apology for
any disproportion -or seeming deformity, if we can show the
necessity of that particular construction for the use intended 1
^ship appears more beautiful to an artist, or one moderately
skilled in navigation, where its prow is wide and swelling
beyond its poop, than if it were framed with a precise
geometrical regularity, in contradiction to all the laws of
mechanics. A building, whose doors and windows were
exact squares, would hurt the eye by that very proportion ;
as ill adapted to the figure of a human creature, for whose
CONCERNING THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS, 213
service the fabric was intended. What wonder then, that
a man, whose habits and conduct are hurtful to society, and
dangerous or pernicious to every one who has an intercourse
with him, should, on that account, be an object of dis-
approbation, and communicate to every spectator the
strongest sentiment of disgust and hatred '-
But perhaps the difficulty of accounting for these effects
of usefulness, or its contrary, has kept philosophers from
admitting them into their systems of ethics, and has induced
them rather to employ any other principle, in explaining
the origin of moral good and evil. But it is no just reason
for rejecting any principle, confirmed by experience, , that
we cannot give a satisfactory account of its origin, nor are
able to resolve it into other more general principles. And
if we would employ a little thought on the present subject,
we need be at no loss to account for the influence of utility,
and to deduce it from principles, the most known and
avowed in human nature.
' M'e ought not to imagine, because an inanimate object may be
useful as well as a man, that therefore it ought also, according to this
system, to merit the appellation of virtuous. The sentiments, excited
by utility, are, in the two cases, very different ; and the one is mixed
with affection, esteem, approbation, &c., and not the other. In like
manner, an inanimate object may have good colour and proportions as
well as a human figure. But can we ever be in love with the former ?
There are a numerous set of passions and sentiments, of which thinking
rational beings are, by the original constitution of nature, the only
proper objects : and though the very same qualities be transferred to an
insensible, inanimate being, they will not excite the same sentiments.
The beneficial qualities of herbs and minerals are, indeed, sometimes
called their virtues ; but this is an effect of the caprice of langnaa^
which ought not to be regarded in reasoning. For though there tc
a species of approbation attending even inaJiimate objects, when bene-
ficial, yet this sentiment is so weak, and so different from that which is
directed to beneficent magistrates or statesmen ; that they ought not to
be ranked under the same class or appellation.
A very small variation of the object, even where the same qualities
are preserved, will destroy a sentiment. Thus, the same beauty, trans-
ferred to a different sex, excites no amorous passion, where nature is
not extremely perverted.
314 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. V, Part I.
178 From the apparent usefulness of the social virtues, it has
readily been inferred by sceptics, both ancient and modern,
that all moral distinctions arise from education, and were,
at first, invented, and afterwards encouraged, by the art of
politicians, in order to render men tractable, and subdue
their natural ferocity and selfishness, which incapacitated
them for society. This principle, indeed, of precept and
education, must so far be owned to have a powerful influence,
that it may frequently increase or diminish, beyond their
natural standard, the sentiments of approbation or dislike ;
and may even, in particular instances, create, without any
natural principle, a new sentiment of this kind; as is
evident in all superstitious practices and observances : But
that all moral affection or dislike arises from this origin,
will never surely be allowed by any judicious enquirer.
Had nature made no such distinction, founded on the
original constitution of the mind, the words, honourable
zx^^ shameful, lovely and odious, noble and despicable, had
never had place in any language; nor could politicians,
had they invented these terms, ever have been able to
render them intelligible, or make them convey any idea
to the audience. So that nothing can be more super-
ficial than this paradox of the sceptics ; and it were well,
if, in the abstruser studies of logic and metaphysics, we
could as easily obviate the cavils of that sect, as in the
practical and more intelligible sciences of politics and
morals.
The social virtues must, therefore, be allowed to have
a natural beauty and amiableness, which, at first, antecedent
to all precept or education, recommends them to the esteem
of uninstructed mankind, and engages their affections. And
as the public utility of these virtues is the chief circum-
stance, whence they derive their merit, it follows, that the
end, which they have a tendency to promote, must be some
way agreeable to us, and take hold of some natural affection.
Sect. V, Part I.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 215
It must please, either from considerations of self-interest, or
from more generous motives and regards.
174^ It has often been asserted, that, as every man has a
strong connexion with society, and perceives the impos-
sibility of his solitary subsistence, he becomes, on that
account, favourable to all those habits or principles, which
promote order in society, and insure to him the quiet
possession of so inestimable a blessing. I As much as
we value our own happiness and welfare, as much must
we applaud the practice of justice and humanity, by
which alone the social confederacy can be maintained,
and every man reap the fruits of mutual protection and
assistance.
This deduction of morals from self-love, or a regard to
private interest, is an obvious thought, and has not arisen
wholly from the wanton sallies and sportive assaults of
the sceptics. To mention no others, Polybius, one of the
gravest and most judicious, as well as most moral writers of
antiquity, has assigned this selfish origin to all our senti-
ments of virtue \ But though the solid practical sense of
that author, and his aversion to all vain subtilties, render
his authority on the present subject very considerable ; yet
is not this an affair to be decided by authority, and the
voice of nature and experience seems plainly to oppose the
selfish theory.
175 We frequently bestow praise on virtuous actions, per-
formed in very distant ages and remote countries; where
^ Undutifulness to parents is disapproved of by mankind, vpoopojuivovs
t& liiWor, Kal avkXoyi^ofifVovs on rb napavKTjaiov (xiffTois avTuv avy-
Kv/ifiaei. Ingratitude for a like reason (though he seems there to mix
a more generous regard) avvayavaKToSyra! /iiv ra niKas, dvcupipovras S'
til' aiiTovs t5 jrapanKijaibv, e( Siv vvoyiyvfTai Ttj Ivvma jrap' (KiaT(f> t^s
ToS Ka9i\KovTm Svvafiecos Kal 0eA
226 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. v. Part n
community, he will not so much as give a cool preference to
the former, or ascribe to it the smallest merit or regard?
Let tls suppose such a person ever so selfish ; let private
interest have ingrossed ever so much his attention ; yet in
instances, where that is not concerned, he must unavoidably
feel some propensity to the good of mankind, and make it an
object of cho ce, if everything else be equal. Would any
man, who is walking along, tread as willingly on another's
gouty toes, whom he has no quarrel with, as on the hard
flint and pavement? There is here surely a difference in
the case. We surely take into consideration the happiness
and misery of others, in weighing the several motives of
action, and incline to the former, where no private regards
draw us to .seek our own promotion or advantage by the _
injury of our fellow-creatures. And if the principles of
humanity are capable, in many instances, of influencing our
actions, they must, at all times, have some authority over
our sentiments, and give us a general approbation of what
is useful to society, and blame of what is dangerous or
pernicious. The degrees of these sentiments may be the
subject of controversy; but the reality of their existence,
one should think, must be admitted in every theory or
system.
184 A creature, absolutely malicious and spiteful, were there'
any such in nature, must be worse than indifferent to the
images of vice and virtue. All his sentiments must be
inverted, and directly opposite to those, which prevail in the
human species. Whatever contributes to the good of man-
kind, as it crosses the constant bent of his wishes and desires,
must produce uneasiness and disapprobation ; and on the
contrary, whatever is the source of disorder and misery in
society, must, for the same reason, be regarded with pleasure
and complacency. Timon, who probably from his affected
spleen more than any inveterate malice, was denominated
the manhater, embraced Aloibiades with great fondness.
Sect. V, Part II.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 227
Go on my hoy I cried he, acquire the confidence of the people :
You will one day, J foresee, be the cause of great calamities to
them^. Could we admit the two principles of the Manicheans,
it is an infallible consequence, that their sentiments of
human actions, as well as of everything else, must be totally
opposite, and that every instance of justice and humanity,
from its necessary tendency, must please the one deity and
displease the other. All mankind so far resemble the good
principle, that, where interest or revenge or envy perverts not
our disposition, we are always inclined^ from our natural
philanthropy, to give the preference to the happiness of
society, and consequently to virtue above its opposite.
Absolute, unprovoked, disinterested malice has never perhaps
place in any human breast ; or if it had, must there pervert
all the sentiments of morals, as well as the feelings of
humanity. If the cruelty of Nero be allowed entirely
voluntary, and not rather the effect of constant fear and
resentment; it is evident that Tigellinus, preferably to
Seneca or Burrhus, must have possessed his steady and
uniform approbation.
A statesman or patriot, who serves our own country in our
own time, has always a more passionate regard paid to him,
than one whose beneficial influence operated on distant
ages or rerriote nations ; where the good, resulting from his
generous hurhanity, being less connected with us, seems
more obscure, and affects us with a less lively sympathy.
We may own the merit to be equally great, though our
sentiments are not raised to an equal height, in both cases.
The judgement here corrects the inequalities of our internal
emotions and perceptions ; in like manner, as it preserves
us from error, in the several variations of images, presented
to our external senses. The same object, at a double
distance, really throws on the eye a picture of but half the
* Plutarch in vita Ale,
Q 8
228 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. V, Part 11.
bulk ; yet we imagine that it appears of the same size in both
situations ; because we know that on our approach to it, its
image would expand on the eye, and that the difference
consists not in the object itself, but in our position with
Regard to it. And, indeed, without such a correction of
appearances, both in internal and external sentiment, men
could never think or talk steadily on any subject; while
their fluctuating situations produce a continual variation on
objects, and throw them into such different and contrary
lights and positions '.
186 The more we converse with mankind, and the greater
social intercourse we maintain, the more shall we be
familiarized to these general preferences and distinctions,
without which our conversation and discourse could scarcely
be rendered intelligible to each other. Every man's interest
is peculiar to himself, and the aversions and desires, which
result from it, cannot be supposed to affect others in a like
degree. General language, therefore, being formed for
general use, must be moulded on some more general views,
and must affix the epithets of praise or blame, in conformity
to sentiments, which arise from the general interests of the
community. And if these sentiments, in most men, be not
' For a like reason, the tendencies of actions and characters, not their
real accidental consequences, are alone regarded in our moral determina-
tions or general judgements ; though in onr real feeling or sentiment, we
cannot help paying greater regard to one whose station, joined to virtue,
renders him really useful to society, than to one, who exerts the social
virtues only in good intentions and benevolent affections. Separating
the character, from the fortune, by an easy and necessary effort of
thought, we pronounce these persons alike, and give them the same
general praise. The judgement corrects or endeavours to correct the
appearance : But is not able entirely to prevail over sentiment.
Why is this peach-tree said to be better than that other ; but because
it produces more or better fruit ? And would not the same praise be
given it, though snails or vermin had destroyed the peaches, beiore they
came to full maturity ? In morals too, is not the tree known by the
fruit ? And cannot we easily distinguish between nature and accident,
in the one case as well as in the other?
Sect. V, Part 11.1 THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS, 829
SO strong as those, which have a reference to private good ;
yet still they must make some distinction, even in persons
the most depraved and selfish ; and must attach the notion
of good to a beneficent conduct, and of evil to the contrary.
Sympathy, we shall allow, is much fainter than our concern
for ourselves, and sympathy with persons remote from us
much fainter than that with persons near and contiguous ;
but for this very reason it is necessary for us, in our calm
judgements and discourse concerning the characters of men,
to neglect all these differences, and render our sentiments
more public and social. Besides, that we ourselves often
change our situation in this particular, we every day meet
with persons who are in a situation different from us,
and who could never converse with us were we to remain
constantly in that position and point of view, which is
peculiar to ourselves. The intercourse of sentiments, there-
fore, in society and conversation, makes us form some
general unalterable standard, by which we may approve or
disapprove of characters and manners. And though the
heart takes not part entirely with those general notions, nor
regulates all its love and hatred by the universal abstract
differences of vice and virtue, without regard to self, or the
persons with whom we are more intimately connected ; yet
have these moral differences a considerable influence, and
being sufiScient, at least for discourse, serve all our pui-poses
in company, in the pulpit, on the theatre, and in the
schools '.
• It is wisely ordained by nature, that private connexions should
commonly prevail over universal views and considerations ; otherwise
our affections and actions would be dissipated and lost, for want of
a proper limited object. Thus a. small benefit done to ourselves, or our
near friends, excites more lively sentiments of love and approbation than
a great benefit done to a distant commonwealth : But still we know
here, as in all the senses, to correct these inequalities by reflection, and
retain a general standard of vice and virtue, founded chiefly on general
nsefulness.
y
230 . \Aht i^NQVlRY CdNCERNING [Sect. V, Part if.
187 Thus, in whatever light we take this subject, the merit,
ascribed to the social virtues, appears still uniform, and
arises chiefly from that regard, which the natural sentiment of
benevolence engages us to pay to the interests of mankind
(and society. If we consider the principles of the human
make, such as they appear to daily experience and observa-
tion, we must, a priori^ conclude it impossible for such
a creature as man to be totally indifferent to the well or
ill-being of his fellow-creatures, and not readily, of himself,
to pronounce, where nothing gives him any particular bias,
that what promotes their happiness is good, what tends to
their misery is evil, without any farther regard or considera-
tion. Here then are the faint rudiments, at least, or out-
lines, of a ^if»efa/ distinction between actions ; and in propor-
tion as the humanity of the person is supposed to encrease,
his connexion with those who are injured or benefited, and
his lively conception of their misery or happiness ; his con-
sequent censure or approbation acquires proportionable
vigour. There is no necessity, that a generous action,
barely mentioned in an old history or remote gazette, should
communicate any strong feelings of applause and admiration.
Virtue, placed at such a distance, is like a fixed star, which,
though to the eye of reason it may appear as luminous as
the sun in his meridian, is so infinitely removed as to
affect the senses, neither with light nor heat. Bring this
virtue nearer, by our acquaintance or connexion with the
u I persons, or even by an eloquent recital of the case; our
« I hearts are immediately caught, our sympathy enlivened, and
our cool approbation converted into the warmest sentiments
of friendship and regard. These seem necessary and
W/ infallible consequences of the general principles of human
f nature, as discovered in common life and practice.
188 Again ; reverse these views and reasonings : Consider the
matter a posteriori ; and weighing the consequences, enquire
if the merit of social virtue be not, in a great measure.
\
Sect. V, Part II.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 231
derived from the feelings of humanity, with which it affects
the spectators. It appears to be matter of fact, that the
circumstance of utility, in all subjects, is a source of praise
and approbation : That it is constantly appealed to in all
moral decisions concerning the merit and demerit of actions :
That it is the sole source of that high regard paid to
justice, fidelity, honour, allegiance, and chastity : That it is
inseparable from all the other social virtues, humanity,
generosity, charity, affability, lenity, mercy, and moderation :
And, in a word, that it is a foundation of the chief part of
morals, which has a reference to mankind and our fellow-
creatures.
189 It appears also, that, in our general approbation of char-
acters and manners, the useful tendency of the social virtues
moves us not by arvy regards to self-interest, but has an
influence much more universal and extensive. It appears
that a tendency to public good, and to the promoting of
peace, harmony, and order in society, does always, by
affecting the benevolent principles of our frame, engage us
on the side of the social virtues. And it appears, as an
additional confirmation, that these principles of humanity
and sympathy enter so deeply into all our sentiments, and
have so powerful an influence, as may enable them to excite
the strongest censure and applause. The present theory is
the simple result of all these inferences, each of which seems
founded on uniform experience and observation.
190 Were it doubtful, whether there were any such principle
in our nature as humanity or a concern for others, yet when
we see, in numberless instances, that whatever has a tendency
to promote the interests of society, is so highly approved of,
we ought thence to learn the force of the benevolent prin-
ciple ; since it is impossible for anything to please as means
to an end, where the end is totally indifferent. On the other
hand, were it doubtful, whether there were, implanted
in our nature, any general principle of moral blame and
232 CONCERNING THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS.
approbation, yet when we see, in numberless instances, the
influence of humanity, we ought thence to conclude, that
it is impossible, but that everything which promotes the
interest of society must communicate pleasure, and what
is pernicious give uneasiness. But when these different
reflections and observations concur in establishing the same
conclusion, must they not bestow an undisputed evidence
upon it?
It is however hoped, that the progress of this argument
will bring a farther confirmation of the present theory, by
showing the rise of other sentiments of esteem and regard
from the same or like principles.
SECTION VI.
OF QUALITIES USEFUL TO OURSELVES.
Part I,
191 It seems evident, that where a quality or habit is
subjected to our examination, if it appear in any respect
prejudicial to the person possessed of it, or such as in-
'capacitates him for business and action, it is instantly
blamed, and ranked among his faults and imperfections.
Indolence, negligence, want of order and method, obstinacy,
fickleness, rashness, credulity; these qualities were never
esteemed by any one indifferent to a character ; much less,
extolled as accomplishments or virtues. The prejudice,
resulting from them, immediately strikes our eye, and gives
us the sentiment of pain and disapprobation.
No quality, it is allowed, is absolutely either blameable
or praise-worthy. It is all according to its degree. A due
medium, says the Peripatetics, is the characteristic of virtue.
But this medium is chiefly determined by utility. A proper
celerity, for instance, and dispatch in business, is com-
mendable. When defective, no progress is ever made in
the execution of any purpose : When excessive, it engages
us in precipitate and ill-concerted measures and enterprises :
By such reasonings, we fix the proper and commendable
mediocrity in all moral and prudential disquisitions; and
never lose view of the advantages, which result from any
character or habit.
234 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect VI, Part I.
Now as these advantages are enjoyed by the person
'possessed of the character, it can never be self-love which
renders the prospect of them agreeable to us, the specta-
tors, and prompts our esteem and approbation. No force
of imagination can convert us into another person, and
make us fancy, that we, being that person, reap benefit
from those valuable qualities, which belong to him. Or
if it did, no celerity of imagination could immediately
transport us back, into ourselves, and make us love and
esteem the person, as different from us. Views and senti-
ments, so opposite to known truth and to each other, could
never have place, at the same time, in the same person.
All Suspicion, therefore, of selfish regards, is here totally
' excluded. It is a quite different principle, which actuates!
our bosom, and interests us in the felicity of the person
whom we contemplate. Where his natural talents and'
acquired abilities give us the prospect of elevation, ad-
vancement, a figure in life, prosperous success, a steady
command over fortune, and the execution of great or
advantageous undertakings ; we are struck with such
agreeable images, and feel a complacency and regard
immediately arise towards him. The ideas of happiness,
joy, triumph, prosperity, are connected with every circum-
stance of his character, and diffuse over our minds a pleasing
sentiment of sympathy and humanity '.
' One may venture to affirm, that there is no human creature, to
whom the appearance of happiness (where envy or revenge has no place)
does not give pleasure, that of misery, uneasiness. This seems insepar-
able from our make and constitution. But they are only the more
generous minds, that are thence prompted to seek zealously the good of
others, and to have a real passion for their welfare. With men of
narrow and ungenerous spirits, this sympathy goes not beyond a slight
feeling of the imagination, which serves only to excite sentiments of
complacency or censure, and makes them apply to the object either
honourable or dishonourable appellations. A griping miser, for instance,
praises extremely industry TinA frugality even in others, and sets them,
in his estimation, above all the other virtues. He knows the good that
Sect. VI, Part 1.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 235
192 Let us suppose a person originally framed so as to have
no manner of concern for his fellow-creatures, but to regard
the happiness and misery cf all sensible beings with greater
indifference than even two contiguous shades of the same
colour. Let us suppose, if the prosperity of nations were
laid on the one hand, and their ruin on the other, and he
were desired to choose; that he would stand like the
schoolman's ass, irresolute and undetermined, between
equal motives; or rather, like the same ass between two
pieces of wood or marble, without any inclination or
propensity to either side. The consequence, I believe,
must be allowed just, that such a person, being absolutely
unconcerned, either for the public good of a community or
the private utility of others, would look on every quality,
however pernicious, or however beneficial, to society, or to
its possessor, with the same indifference as on the most
common and uninteresting object.
But if, instead of this fancied monster, we suppose
a man to form a judgement or determination in the case,
there is to him a plain foundation of preference, where
everything else is equal ; and however cool his choice
may be, if his heart be selfish, or if the persons interested
be remote from him ; there must still be a choice or
distinction between what is useful, and what is pernicious.
Now this distinction is the same in all its parts, with the
moral distinction, whose foundation has been so often, and
so much in vain, enquired after. The same endowments
of the mind, in every circumstance, are agreeable to the
sentiment of morals and to that of humanity; the same
temper is susceptible of high degrees of the one sentiment
and of the other ; and the same alteration in the objects,
results from them, and feels that species of happiness with a more lively
sympathy, than any other you could represent to him ; though perhaps
he would not part with a shilling to malce the fortune of the industrious
man, whom he praises so highly.
236 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect VI, Part. I.
by their nearer approach or by connexions, enlivens the
one and the other. By all the rules of philosophy, there-
fore, we must conclude, that these sentiments are originally
the same ; since, in each particular, even the most minute,
they are governed by the same laws, and are moved by the
same objects.
Why do philosophers infer, with the greatest certainty,
that the moon is kept in its orbit by the same force of
gravity, that makes bodies fall near the surface of the
earth, but because these effects are, upon computation,
found similar and equal? And must not this argument
bring as strong conviction, in moral as in natural disqui-
sitions ?
193 To prove, by any long detail, that all the qualities, useful
to the possessor, are approved of, and the contrary censured,
would be superfluous. The least reflection on what is every
day experienced in life, will be sufficient. We shall only
mention a few iflstances, in order to remove, if possible, all
doubt and hesitation.
The quality, the most necessary for the execution of any
useful enterprise, is discretion ; by which we carry on a safe
intercourse with others, give due attention to our own and
to their character, weigh each circumstance of the business
which we undertake, and employ the surest and safest
means for the attainment of any end or purpose. To
a Cromwell, perhaps, or a De Retz, discretion may appear
an alderman-like virtue, as Dr. Swift calls it; and being
incompatible with those vast designs, to which their
courage and ambition prompted them, it might really, in
them, be a fault or imperfection. But in the conduct
of ordinary life, no virtue is more requisite, not only to
obtain success, but to avoid the most fatal miscarriages
and disappointments. The greatest parts without it,
as observed by an elegant writer, may be fatal to their
owner ; as Polyphemus, deprived of his eye, was only the
Sect.VI,PMtI.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORACS. 237
more exposed, on account of his enormous strength and
stature.
The best character, indeed, were it not rather too perfect
for human nature, is that which is not swayed by temper of
any kind ; but alternately employs enterprise and caution,
as each is useful to the particular purpose intended. Such
is the excellence which St. Evremond ascribes to Mareschal
Turenne, who displayed every campaign, as he grew older,
more temerity in his military enterprises ; and being now,
from long experience, perfectly acquainted with every
incident in war, he advanced with greater firmness and
security, in a road so well known to him. Fabius, says
Machiavel, was cautious; Scipio enterprising: And both
succeeded, because the situation of the Roman affairs,
during the command of each, was peculiarly adapted to
his genius ; but both would have failed, had these situations
been reversed. He is happy, whose circumstances suit his
temper ; but he is more excellent, who can suit his temper
to any circumstances.
194 What need is there to display the praises of industry,
and to extol its advantages, in the acquisition of power and
riches, or in raising what we call a fortune in the world ?
The tortoise, according to the fable, by his perseverance,
gained the race of the hare, though possessed of much
superior swiftness. A man's time, when well husbanded,
is like a cultivated field, of which a few acres produce
more of what is useful to life, than extensive provinces,
even of the richest soil, when over-run with weeds and
brambles.
But all prospect of success in life, or even of tolerable
subsistence, must fail, where a reasonable frugality is
wanting. The heap, instead of encreasing, diminishes daily,
and leaves its possessor so much more unhappy, as, not
having been able to confine his expences to a large revenue,
he will still less be able to live contentedly on a small one.
-238 •• AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING [Sect. VI, Part I.
The souls of men, according to Plato', inflamed with impure
appetites, and losing the body, which alone aiiforded means
of satisfaction, hover about the earth, and haunt the places,
where their bodies are deposited ; possessed with a longing
desire to recover the lost organs of sensation. So may we
see worthless prodigals, having consumed their fortune in
wild debauches, thrusting themselves into every plentiful
table, and every party of pleasure, hated even by the vicious,
and despised even by fools.
The one extreme of frugality is avarice, which, as it
both deprives a man of all use of his riches, and checks
hospitality and every social enjoyment, is justly censured
on a double account. Prodigality, the other extreme, is
commonly more hurtful to a man himself; and each of
these extremes is blamed above the other, according to the
temper of the person who censures, and according to his
greater or less sensibility to pleasure, either social or sensual.
195 Qualities often derive their merit from complicated
sources. Honesty, fidelity, truth, are praised for their im-
mediate tendency to promote the interests of society ; but
after those virtues are once established upon this founda-
tion, they are also considered as advantageous to the
person himself, and as the source of that trust and confi-
dence, which can alone give a man any consideration in
life. One becomes contemptible, no less than odious,
when he forgets the duty, which, in this particular, he owes
to himself as well as to society.
Perhaps, this consideration is one chief source of the
high blame, which is thrown on any instance of failure
among women in point of chastity. The greatest regard,
which can be acquired by that sex, is derived from their
fidelity; and a woman becomes cheap and vulgar, loses
her rank, and is exposed to every insult, who is deficient
' Phaedo,
Sect. VI, Part I.] THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 239
in this particular. The smallest failure is here sufficient
to blast her character. A female has so many opportunities
of secretly indulging these appetites, that nothing can give
us security but her absolute modesty and reserve; and
where a breach is once made, it can scarcely ever be fully
repaired. If a man behave with cowardice on one occasion,
a contrary conduct reinstates him in his character. But by
what action can a woman, whose behaviour has once been
dissolute, be able to assure us, that she has formed better
resolutions, and has self-command enough to carry them
into execution ?
196 All men, it is allowed, are equally desirous of happiness ;
but few are successful in the pursuit : One considerable
cause is the want of strength of mind, which might enable
them to resist the temptation of present ease or pleasure,
and carry them forward in the search of more distant profit
and enjoyment. Our affections, on a general prospect of
their objects, form certain rules of conduct, and certain
measures of preference of one above another : and these
decisions, though really the result of our calm passions and
propensities, (for what else can pronounce any object eligible
or the contrary ?) are yet said, by a natural abuse of terms,
to be the determinations of pure reason and reflection. But
when some of these objects approach nearer to us, or acquire
the advantages of favourable lights and positions, which
catch the heart or imagination j our general resolutions are
frequently confounded, a small enjoyment preferred, and
lasting shame and sorrow entailed upon us. And however
poets may employ their wit and eloquence, in celebrating
present pleasure, and rejecting all distant views to fame,
health, or fortune; it is obvious, that this practice is the
source of all dissoluteness and disorder, repentance and
misery. A man of a strong and determined temper adheres
tenaciously to his general resolutions, and is neither seduced
by the allurements of pleasure, nor terrified by the menaces
840 ■ AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING (Sect. VI, Part I.
of pain ; but keeps still in view those distant pursuits, by
which he, at once, ensures his happiness and his honour.
187 Self-satisfaction, at least in some degree, is an advantage.
Which equally attends the fool and the wise man : But it
is the only one ; nor is there any other circumstance in the
conduct of life, where they are upon an equal footing,
Business, books, conversation ; for all of these, a fool is
totally incapacitated, and except condemned by his station
to the coarsest drudgery, remains a useless burthen upon
the earth. Accordingly, it is found, that men are extremely
jealous of their character in this particular; and many
instances are_ seen of profligacy and treachery, the most
avowed and unreserved; none of bearing patiently the
imputation of ignorance and stupidity. Dicaearchus, the
Macedonian general, who, as Polybius tells usS openly
erected one altar to impiety, another to injustice, in order
to bid defiance to mankind; even he, I am well assured,
would have started at the epithet oifool, and have meditated
revenge for so injurious an appellation. Except the affection
of parents, the strongest and most indissoluble bond in
nature, no connexion has strength sufficient to support the
disgust arising from this character. Love itself, which can
subsist under treachery, ingratitude, malice, and infidelity,
is immediately extinguished by it, when perceived and
acknowledged; nor are deformity and old age more fatal
to the dominion of that passion. So dreadful are the ideas
of an utter incapacity for any purpose or undertaking, and
of continued error and misconduct in life !
198 When it is asked, whether a quick or a slow apprehension
be most valuable? Whether one, that, at first view, pene-
trates far into a subject, but can perform nothing upon
study ; or a contrary character, which must work out every-
thing by dint of application? Whether a clear head or
' Lib. xvii. cap. 35.
Sect. VI, Part IJ THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS. 241
a copious invention ? Whether a profound genius or a sure
judgement? In short, what character, or peculiar turn of
understanding, is more excellent than another? It is
evident, that we can answer none of these questions,
without considering which of those qualities capacitates
a man best for the world, and carries him farthest in any
undertaking.
If refined sense and exalted sense be not so useful as
common sense, their rarity, their novelty, and the nobleness
of their objects make some compensation, and render them
the admiration of mankind : As gold, though less service-
able than iron, acquires from its scarcity a value which is
much superior.
The defects of judgement can be supplied by no art or
invention ; but those of memory frequently may, both in
business and in study, by method and industry, and by
diligence in committing everything to writing ; and we
scarcely ever hear a short memory given as a reason for
a man's failure in any undertaking. But in ancient times,
when no man could make a figure without the talent of
speaking, and when the audience were too delicate to bear
such crude, undigested harangues as our extemporary orators
offer to public assemblies ; the faculty of memory was then
of the utmost consequence, and was accordingly much more
valued than at present. Scarce any great genius is men-
tioned in antiquity, who is not celebrated for this talent;
and Cicero enumerates it among the other sublime qualities
of Caesar himself*.
199 Particular customs and manners alter the usefulness of
qualities : they also alter their merit. Particular situations
and accidents have, in some degree, the same influence.
He will always be more esteemed, who possesses those
' Fuit in illo ingenium, latio, memoria, literae, cara, cogitatio, dili-
gentia, &c. Philip. 3.
R
242 AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING tSect VI, Part I.
talents and accomplishments, which suit his station and
profession, than he whom fortune has misplaced in the part
which she has assigned him. The private or selfish virtues
are, 'in this respect, more arbitrary than the public and
social. In other respects they are, perhaps, less liable to
doubt and controversy.
In this kingdom, such continued ostentation, of late
years, has prevailed among men in active life with regard to
public spirit, and among those in speculative with regard to
benevolence; and so many false pretensions to each have
been, no doubt, detected, that men of the world are apt,
without any bad intention, to discover a sullen incredulity
on the head of those moral endowments, and even some-
times absolutely to deny their existence and reality. In
like manner I find, that, of old, the perpetual cant of the
Stoics and Cynics concerning virtue, their magnificent pro-
fessions and slender performances, bred a disgust in man-
kind; and Lucian, who, though licentious with regard to
pleasure, is yet in other respects a very moral writer,
cannot sometimes talk of virtue, so much boasted, without
betraying symptoms of spleen and irony '. But surely this
peevish delicacy, whence-ever it arises, can never be carried
so far as to make us deny the existence of every species of
merit, and all distinction of manners and behaviour. Besides
discretion, caution, enterprise, industry, assiduity, frugality,
economy, good-sense, prudence, discernment; besides these
endowments, I say, whose very names force an avowal of
their merit, there are many others, to which the most deter-
mined scepticism cannot for a moment refuse the tribute of
* 'Aper^v Tiva, ual aaiifuna, Kal \-fipoV! iifya\ri tJ cfawp {w(ip6vrm/.
L,nc. Timon. 9. Again, KaJ (n)vayay6vTes (oi fi\6ao(l>oi) eie^anirrjTa
^eipctKia Tiji' T€ iro\u9(n5A.ijToi' dptrriv rpayaiBoSffi, Icaro-mea. In
another place, "H irov yip iariv fj iroXvBpiKrjTos iper'^, koI
you, that fashion, vogue, custom, and law, were the chief .
foundation of all moral determinations. The Athenians „i
surely, were a civilized, intelligent people, if ever there were
one ; and yet their man of jnerit might, in this age, be held
in horror and execration. The French are also, without
doubt, a very civilized, intelligent people; and yet their
man of merit might, with the Athenians, be an object of
the highest contempt and ridicule, and even hatred. And
what renders the matter more extraordinary : These two
people are supposed to be the most similar in their national
character of any in ancient and modern times ; and while the
English flatter themselves that they resemble the Romans,
their neighbours on the continent draw the parallel between
themselves and those polite Greeks, What wide difference,
therefore, in the sentiments of morals, must be found be-
tween civilized nations and Barbarians, or between nations
whose characters have little in common? How shall we
.-pretend to fix a standard for judgments of this nature ?
By tracing matters, replied I, a little higher, and examining
the first principles, which each nation establishes, of blame
or censure. The Rhine flows north, the Rhone south ; yet
both spring from the same mountain, and are also actuated,
in their opposite directions, by \h& same principle of gravity.
The different inclinations of the ground, on which they run,
cause all the difference of their courses.
In how many circumstances would an Athenian and
334 ^ DIALOGUE.
a French man of merit certainly resemble each other?
Good sense, knowledge, wit, eloquence, humanity, fidelity,
truth, justice, courage, temperance, constancy, dignity of
mind : These you have all omitted ; in order to insist only
on the points, in which they may, by accident, differ. Very
well : I am willing to comply with you ; and shall endeavour
to account for these differences from the most universal,
established principles of morals.
The, Greek loves, I care not to examine more particularly.
I shall only observe, that, however blameable, they arose
from a very innocent cause, the frequency of the gymnastic
exercises among that people ; and were recommended,
though absurdly, as the source of friendship, sympathy,
mutual attachment, and fidelity ' ; qualities esteemed in all
nations and all ages.
The marriage of half-brothers and sisters seems no great
difficulty. Love between the nearer relations is contrary to
reason and public utility ; but the precise point, where we
are to stop, can scarcely be determined by natural reason ;
and is therefore a very proper subject for municipal law or
custom. If the Athenians went a little too far on the one
side, the canon law has surely pushed matters a great way
into the other extreme ''.
Had you asked a parent at Athens, why he bereaved his
child of that life, which he had so lately given it. It is be-
cause I love it, he would reply ; and regard the poverty which
it must inherit from me, as a greater evil than death, which
it is not capable of dreading, feeling, or resenting ^.
How is public liberty, the most valuable of all blessings,
to be recovered .from the hands of an usurper or tyrant, if
his power shields him from public rebellion, and our scruples
from private vengeance ? That his crime is capital by law,
' Plat. Symp. p. 182, ex edit. Ser,
» See Enquiry, Sect. IV.
' Plut. de amoie prolis, sub fine.
A DIALOGUE. 335
you acknowledge : And must the highest aggravation of his
crime, the putting of himself above law, form his full
security ? You can reply nothing, but by showing the great
inconveniences of assassination ; which could any one have
proved clearly to the ancients, he had reformed their senti-
ments in this particular.
Again, to cast your eye on the picture which I have drawn
of modern manners ; there is almost as great diflficulty, I
acknowledge, to justify French as Greek gallantry ; except
only, that the former is much more natural and agreeable
than the latter. But our neighbours, it seems, have resolved
to sacrifice some of the domestic to the sociable pleasures ;
and to prefer ease, freedom, and an open commerce, to
a strict fidelity and constancy. These ends are both good,
and are somewhat difficult to reconcile ; nor need we be sur-
prised, if the customs of nations incline too much, sometimes
to the one side, sometimes to the other.
The most inviolable attachment to the laws of our country
is every where acknowledged a capital virtue ; and where
the people are not so happy, as to have any legislature but
a single person, the strictest loyalty is, in that case, the truest
patriotism.
Nothing surely can be more absurd and barbarous than
the practice of duelling ; but those, who justify it, say, that
it begets civility and good-manners. And a duellist, you
may observe, always values himself upon his courage, his
sense of honour, his fidelity and friendship ; quaKties, which
are here indeed very oddly directed, but which have been
esteemed universally, since the foundation of the world.
Have the gods forbid self-murder ? An Athenian allows,
that it ought to- be forborn. Has the Deity permitted it ?
A Frenchman allows, that death is preferable to pain and
infamy.
You see then, continued I, that the principles upon which
jnen reason in morals are always Ihe same ; though the
336 A DIALOGUE.
conclusions which they draw are often very different. That
they all reason aright with regard to this subject, more than
with regard to any other, it is not incumbent on any moralist
to show. It is sufficient, that the original principles of
censure or blame are uniform, and that erroneous conclu-
sions can be corrected by sounder reasoning and larger
experience. Though many ages have elapsed since the fall
of Greece and Rome ; though many changes have arrived in
religion, language, laws, and customs ; none of these revolu-
tions has ever produced any considerable innovation in
the primary sentiments of morals, more than in those of
external beauty. Some minute differences, perhaps, may be
observed in both. Horace ' celebrates a low forehead, and
Anacreon joined eye-brows ■' : But the Apollo and the Venus
of antiquity are still our models for male and female beauty ;
in like manner as the character of Scipio continues our
standard for the glory of heroes, and that of Cornelia for
the honour of matrons.
It appears, that there never was any quality recommended
by any one, as a virtue or moral excellence, but on account
of its being useful, or agreeabk to a man himself, or to others.
For what other reason can ever be assigned for praise or
approbation ? Or where would be the sense of extolling a
good character or action, which, at the same time, is allowed
to be good for nothing} All the differences, therefore, in
morals, may be reduced to this one general foundation, and
may be aacounted for by the different views, which people "
take of these circumstances.
Sometimes men differ in their judgment about the useful-
ness of any habit or action : Sometimes also the peculiar
circumstances of things render one moral quality more useful
than others, and give it a peculiar preference.
' Epist. lib. i. epist. 7. Also lib. i. ode 3.
' Ode 28. Petronius (cap. 86) joins both these circumstances as
beauties.
A DIALOGUE, 337
It is not suiprising, that, during a period of war and dis'
order, the military virtues should be more celebrated than
the pacific, and attract more, the admiration and attention
of mankind. "How usual is it," says Tully\ "to find
"Cimbrians, Celtiberians, and other Barbarians, who bear,
" with inflexible constancy, all the fatigues and dangers of
"the field; but are immediately dispirited under the pain
"and hazard of a languishing distemper: While, on the
"other hand, the Greeks patiently endure the slow ap-
"proaches of death, when armed with sickness and disease;
"but timorously fly his presence, when he attacks them
"violently with swords and falchions!" So different is
even the same virtue of courage among warlike or peaceful
nations ! And indeed, we may observe, that, as the differ-
ence between war and peace is the greatest that arises
among nations and public societies, it produces also the
greatest variations in moral sentiment, and diversifies the
most our ideas of virtue and personal merit.
Sometimes too, magnanimity, greatness of mind, disdain
of slavery, inflexible rigour and integrity, may better suit the
circumstances of one age than those of another, and have
a more kindly influence, both on public affairs, and on
a man's own safety and advancement. Our idea of merit,
therefore, will also vary a little with these variations ; and
Labeo, perhaps, be censured for the same qualities, which
procured Cato the highest approbation.
A degree of luxury may be ruinous and pernicious in
a native of Switzerland, which only fosters the arts, and en-
courages industry in a Frenchman or Englishman. We are
not, therefore, to expect, either the same sentiments, or the
same laws in Berne, which prevail in London or Paris.
Difierent customs have also some influence as well as dif-
ferent utilities ; and by giving an early bias to the mind,
may produce a superior propensity, either to the useful or
* Tusc. Quaest. lib. ii.
z
338 A DIALOGUE.
the agreeable qualities ; to those which regard self, or those
which extend to society. These four sources of moral senti-
ment still subsist ; but particular accidents may, at one time,
make any one of them flow with greater abundance than at
another.
The customs of some nations shut up the women from all
Social commerce : Those of others make them so essential
a part of society and conversation, that, except where business
is transacted, the male-sex alone are supposed almost wholly
Incapable of mutual discourse and entertainment. As this
difference is the most material that c^ happen in private
life, it must also produce the greatest variation in our moral
sentiments.
Of all nations in the world, where polygamy was not
allowed, the Greeks seem to have been the most reserved
in their commerce with the fair sex, and to have imposed on
them the strictest laws of modesty and decency. We have
a strong instance of this in an oration of Lysias '- A widow
injured, ruined, undone, calls a meeting of a few of her
nearest friends and relations ; and though never before
accustomed, says the orator, to speak in the presence of
men, the distress of her circumstances constrained her to
lay the case before them. The very opening of her mouth
in such company required, it seems, an apology.
When Demosthenes prosecuted his tutors, to make them
refund his patrimony, it became necessary for him, in the
course of the law-suit, to prove that the marriage of Aphobus's
sister with Oneter was entirely fraudulent, and that, not-
withstanding her sham marriage, she had lived with her.
brother at Athens for two years past, ever since her divorce
from her former husband. And it is remarkable, that
though these were people of the first fortune and distinction
in the city, the orator could prove this fact no way, but by
> Orat. 33.
A DIALOGUE. 339
calling for her female slaves to be put to the question, and
by the evidence of one physician, who had seen her in her
brother's house during her ilifless '. So reserved were Greek
manners.
We may be assured, that an extreme purity of manners
was the consequence of this reserve. Accordingly we find,
that, except the fabulous stories of an Helen and a Clyte-
mnestra, there scarcely is an instance of any event in the
Greek history, which proceeded from the intrigues of
women. On the other hand, in modern times, particularly
in a neighbouring nation, the females enter into all transac-
tions and all management of church and state : And no man
can expect success, who takes not care to obtain their good
graces. Harry the third, by incurring the displeasure of the
fair, endangered his crown, and lost bis life, as much as by
his indulgence to heresy.
It is needless to dissemble : The consequence of a very
free commerce between the sexes, and of their living much
together, will often terminate in intrigues and gallantry. We
must sacrifice somewhat of the useful, if we be very anxious
to obtain all the agreeable qualities ; and cannot pretend to
reach ahke every kind of advantage. Instances of licence,
daily multiplying, will weaken the scandal with the one sex,
and teach the other by degrees, to adopt the famous maxim
of La Fontaine, with regard to female infidelity, that if one
knows it, it is but a small matter ; if one knows it not, it is
twthing'^.
Some people are inclined to think, that the best way of
adjusting all differences, and of keeping the proper medium
between the agreeable and the useful qualities of the sex, is
to live with them after the manner of the Romans and the
English (for the customs of these two nations seem similar
' In Oneterem.
* Quand on le S9ait, c'est pen de chose t
Quand on I'ignore, ce n'est lien.
Z 2
340 A DIALOGUE.
in this respect'); that is, without gallantry', and without
jealousy. By a parity of reason, the customs of the Spaniards
and of the Italians of an age* ago (for the present are very
different) must be the worst of any ; because they favour
both gallantry and jealousy.
Nor will these different customs of nations affect the one
sex only : Their idea of personal merit in the males must
also be somewhat different with regard, at least, to conversa-
tion, address, and humour. The one nation, where the men
live much apart, will naturally more approve of prudence ;
the other of gaiety. With the one simplicity of manners will
be in the highest esteem ; with the other, politeness. The
one will distinguish themselves by good-sense and judgment;
the other, by taste and delicacy. The eloquence of the
former will shine most in the senate ; that of the other, on
the theatre.
These, I say, are the natural effects of such customs. For
it must be confessed, that chance has a great influence on
national manners ; and many events happen in society, which
are not to be accounted for by general rules. Who could
imagine, for instance, that the Romans, who lived freely with
their women, should be very indifferent about music, and
esteem dancing infamous : While the Greeks, who never
almost saw a woman but in their own houses, were con-
tinually piping, singing, and dancing ?
The differences of moral sentiment, which naturally arise
from a republican or monarchical government, are also very
obvious ; as well as those which proceed from general riches
' During the times of the emperors, the Romans seem to have been
more given to intrigues and gallantry than the English are at present :
And the women of condition, in order to retain their lovers, endeavoured
to fix a name of reproach on those who were addicted to wenching and
low amours. They were called AncillarioH. See Seneca de beneficiis.
Lib. i. cap. 9. See also Martial, lib. xii. epig. 58.
" The gallantry here meant is that of amours and attachments, not
that of complaisance, which is as much paid to the fair sex in England
as in any other country.
A DIALOGUM, 341
or poverty, union or faction, ignorance or learning. I shall
conclude this long discourse with observing, that different
customs and situations vary not the original ideas of merit
(however they may, some consequences) in any very essential
point, and prevail chiefly with regard to young men, who can
aspire to the agreeable qualities, and may attempt to please.
The Manner, the Ornaments, the Graces, which succeed in
this shape, are more arbitrary and casual : But the merit of
riper years is almost every where the same ; and consists
chiefly in integrity, humanity, ability, knowledge, and the
other more solid and useful qualities of the human mind.
What you insist on, replied Palamedes, may have some
foundation, when you adhere to the maxims of common
life and ordinary conduct. Experience and the practice of
the world readily correct any great extravagance on either
side. But what say you to artificial lives and manners ?
How do you reconcile the maxims, on which, in different
ages and nations, these are founded ?
What do you understand by artificial lives and manners ?
said I. I explain myself, replied he. You know, that
religion had, in ancient times, very little influence on com-
mon life, and that, after men had performed their duty in
sacrifices and prayers at the temple, they thought, that the
gods left the rest of their conduct to themselves, and were
little pleased or offended with those virtues or vices, which
only affected the peace and happiness of human society. In
those ages, it was the business of philosophy alone to regu-
late men's ordinary behaviour and deportment; and ac-
cordingly, we may observe, that this being the sole principle,
by which a man could elevate himself above his fellows, it
acquired a mighty ascendant over many, and produced great
singularities of maxims and of conduct. At present, when
philosophy has lost the allurement of novelty, it has no such
extensive influence ; but seems to confine itself mostly to
speculations in the closet; in the same manner, as the
348 A DIALOGUE.
ancient religion was limited to sacrifices in the temple. Its
place is now supplied by the modern religion, which inspects
our whole conduct, and prescribes an universal rule to our
actions, to our words, to our very thoughts and inclinations ;
a rule so much the more austere, as it is guarded by infinite,
though distant, rewards and punishments ; and no infraction
of it can ever be concealed or disguised.
Diogenes is the most celebrated mpdel of extravagant
philosophy. Let us seek a parallel to him in modern times.
We shall not disgrace any philosophic name by a comparison
with the Dominies or Loyolas, or any canonized monk, or
friar. Let us compare him to Pascal, a man of parts and
genius as well as Diogenes himself; and perhaps too, a man
of virtue, had he allowed his virtuous inclinations to have
exerted and displayed themselves.
The foundation of Diogenes's conduct was an endeavour
to render himself an independent being as much as possible,
and to confine all his wants and desires and pleasures within
himself and his own mind : The aim of Pascal was to keep
a perpetual sense of his dependence before his eyes, and
never to forget his numberless wants and infirmities. The
ancient supported himself by magnanimity, ostentation,
pride, and the idea of his own superiority above his fellow-
creatures. The modern made constant profession of hu-
mility and abasement, of the contempt and hatred of him-
self ; and endeavoured to attain these supposed virtues, as
far as they are attainable. The austerities of the Greek
were in order to inure himself to hardships, and prevent his
ever suffering : Those of the Frenchman were embraced
merely for their own sake, and in order to suffer as much as
possible. The philosopher indulged himself in the most
beastly pleasures, even in public : The saint refused himself
the most innocent, even in private. The former thought it
his duty to love his friends, and to rail at them, and reprove
them, and scold them : The latter endeavoured to be absO'
A DIALOGUE. 343
lutely indifferent towards his nearest relations, and to love
and speak well of his enemies. The great object of
Diogenes's wit was every kind of superstition, that is every
kind of religion known in his time. The mortality of the
soul was his standard principle ; and even his sentiments of
a divine providence seem to have been licentious. The
most ridiculous superstitions directed Pascal's faith and
practice; and an extreme contempt of this life, in com-
parison of the future, was the chief foundation of his
conduct.
In such a remarkable contrast do these two men stand :
Yet both of them have met with general admiration in their
different ages, and have been proposed as models of imitation.
Where then is the universal standard of morals, which you
talk of? And what rule shall we establish for the many
different, nay contrary sentiments of mankind ?
An experiment, said I, which succeeds in the air, will
not always succeed in a vacuum. When men depart from
the maxims of common reason, and affect these artificial
lives, as you call them, no one can answer for what will
please or displease them. They are in a different element
from the rest of mankind ; and the natural principles of their
mind play not with the same regularity, as if left to them-
selves, free from the illusions of religious superstition or
philosophical enthusiasm.
ADDITIONAL NOTE TO p. 125, 1. 4.
This book was writ by Mens. Montgeron, counsellor or judge
of the parliament of Paris, a man of figure and character, who
was also a martyr to the cause, and is now said to be somewhere
in a dungeon on account of his book.
There is another book in three volumes (called Recueil des
Miracles de VAbbi Paris) giving an account of many of these
miracles, and accompanied with prefatory discourses, which are
very well written. There runs, however, through the whole of
these a ridiculous comparison between the miracles of our
Saviour and those of the Abb6 ; wherein it is asserted, that the
evidence for the latter is equal to that for the former : As if the
testimony of men could ever be put in the balance with that of
God himself, who conducted the pen of the inspired writers. If
these writers, indeed, were to be considered merely as human
testimony, the French author is very moderate in his comparison ;
since he might, with some appearance of reason, pretend, that
the Jansenist miracles much surpass the other in evidence and
authority. The following circumstances are drawn from authentic
papers, inserted in the above-mentioned book.
Many of the miracles of Abbd Paris were proved immediately
by witnesses before the officiality or bishop's court at Paris,
under the eye of cardinal Noailles, whose character for integrity
and capacity was never contested even by his enemies.
His successor in the archbishopric was an enemy to the Jan-
senists, and for that reason promoted to the see by the court.
Yet 22 rectors or curSs of Paris, with infinite earnestness, press
him to examine those miracles, which they assert to be known to
the whole world, and undisputably certain : But he wisely
forbore.
The Molinist party had tried to discredit these miracles in one
instance, that of Mademoiselle le Franc. But, besides that their
proceedings were in many respects the most irregular in the
world, particularly in citing only a few of the Jansenist witnesses,
ADDITIONAL NOTE. 345
whom they tampered with : Besides this, I say, they soon found
themselves overwhelmed by a cloud of new witnesses, one
hundred and twenty in number, most of them persons of credit
and substance in Paris, who gave oath for the miracle. This was
accompanied with a solemn and earnest appeal to the parliament.
But the parliament were forbidden by authority to meddle in
the affair. It was at last observed, that where men are heated
by zeal and enthusiasm, there is no degree of human testimony
so strong as may not be procured for the greatest absurdity :
And those who will be so silly as to examine the affair by that
medium, and seek particular flaws in the testimony, are almost
sure to be confounded. It must be a miserable imposture, in-
deed, that does not prevail in that contest.
All who have been in France about that time have heard of the
reputation of Mons. Heraut, the lieutenant de Police, whose vigi-
lance, penetration, activity, and extensive intelligence have been
much talked of. This magistrate, who by the nature of his office
is almost absolute, was vested with full powers, on purpose to sup-
press or discredit these miracles ; and he frequently seized im-
mediately, and examined the witnesses and subjects of them :
But never could reach any thing satisfactory against them.
In the case of Mademoiselle Thibaut he sent the famous
De Sylva to examine her ; whose evidence is very curious. The
physician declares, that it was impossible she could have been
so ill as was proved by witnesses ; because it was impossible she
could, in so short a time, have recovered so perfectly as he found
her. He reasoned, like a man of sense, from natural causes ;
but the opposite party told him, that the whole was a miracle,
and that his evidence was the very best proof of it.
The Molinists were in a sad dilemma. They durst not assert
the absolute insufficiency of human evidence, to prove a miracle.
They were obliged to say, that these miracles were wrought by
witchcraft and the devil. But they were told, that this was
the resource of the Jews of old.
No Jansenist was ever embarrassed to account for the cessa-
tion of the miracles, when the church-yard was shut up by the
kingfs edict. It was the touch of the tomb, which produced
these extraordinary effects ; and when no one could approach
the tomb, no effects could be expected. God, indeed, could
have thrown down the walls in a moment ; but he is master of
his own graces and works, and it belongs not to us to account
346 ADDITIONAL NOTE.
for them. He did not throw down the walls of every city lik«
those of Jericho, on the sounding of the rams horns, nor break
up the prison of every apostle, like that of St. Paul.
No less a man, than the Due de Chatillon, a duke and peer
of France, of the highest rank and family, gives evidence of a
miraculous cure, performed upon a servant of his, who had lived
several years in his house with a visible and palpable infirmity.
I shall conclude with observing, that no clergy are more cele-
brated for strictness of life and manners than the secular clergy
of France, particularly the rectors or cur^s of Paris, who bear
testimony to these impostures.
The learning, genius, and probity of the gentlemen, and the
austerity of the nuns of Port-Royal, have been much celebrated all
over Europe. Yet they all give evidence for a miracle, wrought
On the niece of the famous Pascal, whose sanctity of life, as well
as extraordinary capacity, is well known. The famous Racine
gives an account of this miracle in his famous history of Port*
Royal, and fortifies it with all the proofs, which a multitude of
nuns, priests, physicians, and men of the world, all of them of
undoubted credit, could bestow upon it. Several men of letters,
particularly the bishop of Toumay, thought this miracle so
certain, as to employ it in the refutation of atheists and free-
thinkers. The queen-regent of France, who was extremely pre-
judiced against the Port-Royal, sent her own physician to
examine the miracle, who returned an absolute convert. In
short, the supernatural cure was so uncontestable, that it saved,
for a time, that famous monastery from the ruin with which it
was threatened by the Jesuits. Had it been a cheat, it had
certainly been detected by such sagacious and powerful antago-
nists, and must have hastened the ruin of the contrivers. Our
divines, who can build up a formidable castle from such despi-
cable materials ; what a prodigious fabric could they have reared
from these and many other circumstances, which I have not
mentioned ! How often would the great names of Pascal, Racine,
Amaud, Nicole, have resounded in our ears ? But if they be
wise, they had better adopt the miracle, as being more worth,
a thousand times, than all the rest of the collection. Besides, it
may serve very much to their purpose. For that miracle was
really performed by the touch of an authentic holy prickle of the
holy thorn, which composed the holy crown, which, &"€,
INDEX
{The referenoes in the Index are not to the pages but to
the marginal seotions of the text.]
Abstract — reasonings, 224; ideas, really particular, laj «.
Abstraction — not source of ideas of primary qualities, 12 a.
Aoademio — philosophy, 34.
Acoession — and property, 259 «.
Action — and philosophy, i, 4, 34, 128; and reasoning, 136.
Addison — 4.
Allegiance — 164, 188.
Ambition — dist. self-love; not source of moral distinctions, 221;
a direct passion terminating on its object, 253.
' Amour-propre ' — comprises self-love and vanity, 263 «.
Analogy — a species of, the foundation of all reasoning about matter of
fact, 8a ; appeal to in legal questions, 157, 259.
Animals — the reason of, 82-85 ; leam from experience and draw in-
ferences, 83 ; which can only be founded on custom, 84 ; cause of
difference between men and animals, 84 n.
No justice towards, 152; capable of disinterested kindness, 25a.
Antiquity — 62.
A posteriori — 188.
Appearances — to senses mnst be corrected by reason, 117, 185 (cf. 1,^7).
Appetite — terminating on its object, 253 (». Passion, Self-Love, C, 248-
354)-
Approbation — due to sentiment of humanity, 235 ; not derivable from
Self-love (q. v.), 174-5 > of virtue feels different from sense of private
advantage, 175; disinterested, of qualities useful to others, 191 f. ;
of social virtues feels different from that of accomplishments and
talents, 265 (cf. 172 «).
Of benevolence different from that of justice, 255-6.
A priori — 25, 36 «, 89 «, 132, 13a n, 187.
Aristotle — 4, a 66.
Artifloial — opp. natural, 258 «.
Association — of ideas, three principles of, 18-ig, 41-44 {v. Cause C),
Atheism — 1 16.
Avarice — aai.
348 INDEX.
Bacon — 99, 178.
Beauty— standard of, 132; not reasoned about, 135; sentiment of
beauty corrected by reason, 1 37 ; natural, of social virtues, ante-
cedent to education, 173; and utility, 183, 200.
Moral and natural, not perceived by- understanding, 24 J,
Belief— (w. Cause C, 39-45) ; and chance, 46.
Benevolence — A. {v. Self- Love, Sympathy) — a_ social virtue, I38_;
part of its merit due to its utility, 139-144(0^ 2077208); if extreme,
. would render justice useless, 146 ; differs from justice in not requiring |
v concurrence of others, 255-6. '
Must be limited to be effective, as in patriotism, 182 n, 186 ».
Disinterested, not a fiction,, 199 ; our affection for it may be grati-
tude rather than self-love, 199 ; recognition of, required by an un-
forced interpretation of phenomena, 199 (of. 231).
Part of its merit derived from its inherent pleasantness, 207-8
(cf 231) ; virtue of, desirable, even with a view to happiness and
self-interest, 230; unites more advantages than any other passion,
231, 264.
— General and particular, 250 », 252.
B. not resolvable into Self-love (,q. v.), 247-254 (cf. 199).
Absurd theory that it is a hypocritical disguise, 247.
More moderate theory of Hobbes and Locke that it is self-love
disguised by imagination, 248 ; attempts to reduce, due to false love
of simplicity, 250 ; presumption in favour of obvious theory, 231
(cf. 199, 253) ; a thousand marks of general b. in human nature,
232 ; may be a direct passion like hunger, with a secondary passion
for the pleasure of its satisfaction, 254.
An ultimate unresolvable feeling, 178 w (cl. 250 «) ; a direct
tendency or instinct, 255 ; natural philanthropy of all men, 184, 187,
189, 190.
C. the sentiment of humanity and the sentiment of morality are
originally the same, 192 ; the only sentiment which is both common
and comprehensive enough to originate moral distinctions, 221 ;
a universal principle giving rise to a general system of praise and
blame, 222; comprehensive and never indifferent : often controls the
particular sentiments of self-love, 223.
Berkeley — really a sceptic, 122 ».
Bigotry — 102.
Blemish — dist. vice, fault, crime, 268.
Bodily endowments — 200.
Body — and soul, mystery of union of, 52 ; volition and movements
of, 52.
Real existence of (». Scepticism, B, 118-123).
Calculation — of greater happiness, 228.
Cause — first (». God, Necessity, 78-81 ; Providence, 102-115, 'S*")-
INDEX, 349
Cause — a principle of association of ideas, 19, 43; sole foundation
of reasonings about matter of fact or real existence, 23.
A. Knowledge of Causes arises from experience not from Reason,
23-33-
Reasonings a priori give no knowledge of cause and effect,
23 f. ; impossible to see the effect in the cause since they are totally
different, 25 ; natural philosophy never pretends to assign ultimate
causes, but only to reduce causes to a few general causes, e.g.
gravity, 26 ; geometry applies laws obtained by experience, 27,
Conclusions from experience not based on any process of the
tinderstanding, 28 ; yet we infer in the future a similar connexion
between known qualities of things and their secret powers, to that
which we assumed in the past. On what is this inference based ?
29 ; demonstrative reasoning has no place here, and all experimental
reasoning assumes the resemblance of the future to the past, and
so cannot prove it without being circular, 30, 32 ; if reasoning were
the basis of this belief, there would be no need for the multiplication
of instances or of long experience, 31 ; yet conclusions about matter
of fact are affected by experience even in beasts and children, so that
they cannot be founded on abstruse reasoning, 33, 482-4 : to explain
our inferences from experience a principle is required of equal weight
and authority with reason, 34.
B. Custom enables us to infer existence of one object from the
appearance of another, 35-38.
Experience enables us to ascribe a more than arbitrary connexion to
-objects, 35 ; we are determined to this by custom or habit which is
the great gnide of human life, 36 ; but our inference must be based
on some fact present to the senses or memory, 37 ; the customjiry
conjunction between such an object and some other object produces
an operation of the soul which is as unavoidable as love, 38 ; animals
also infer one event from another by custom, 82-84; and in man as
in animals experimental reasoning depends on a species of instinct
or mechanical power that acts in us unknown to ourselves, 85.
C. Belief, 39-4;.
Belief differs from fiction or the loose reveries of the fancy by
some feeling annexed to it, 39 ; belief cannot be defined, but may
be described as a. more lively, forcible, firm, steady conception of
an object than can be attained by the imagination alone, 40 ; it
is produced by the principles of association, viz. resemblance,
41 ; contiguity, 42 ; causation, 43 ; by a kind of pre-established
harmony between the course of nature and our ideas, 44 ; this
operation of our minds necessary to our subsistence and so entrusted
by nature to instinct rather than to reasoning, 45.
Probability — 46-7.
Belief produced by a majority of diances by an inexplicable
contrivance of Nature, 46 (cf. 87-8) ; probability of causes : the
36° INDEX.
Cause.
failure of a cause ascribed to a secret counteracting cause, 47 (cf. 67) ;
it is universally allowed that chance when strictly examined is
a mere negative word, 74.
D. /'oTfer— 49-57.
Power, force, energy, necessary connexion must either be defined
by analysis or explained by production of the impression from which
they are copied, 49 ; from the first appearance of an object we
cannot foretell its effect : we cannot see the power of a single body :
we only see sequence, 50.
Is the idea of power derived from an internal impression and is it
an idea of reflection ? 51 ; it is not derived, as Locke said, from
reasoning about power of production in nature, 50 » ; nor from
consciousness of influence of will over bodily organs, 52 ; nor from
effort to overcome resistance, 52 » (cf. 60 n) ; nor from influence of
will over mind, 53 ; many philosophers appeal to an invisible
intelligent principle, to a volition of the supreme being, and regard
causes as only occasions and our mental conceptions as revelations,
54-5 ; thus diminishing the grandeur of God, 56 ; this theory too
bold and beyond verification by our faculties, and is no explanation,
57 ; vis inertiae, 57 «.
In single instances we only see sequence of loose events which; are
conjoined and never connected, 58 ; the idea of necessary connexion
only arises from a number of similar instances, and the only difference
between such a number and a single instance is that the former
produces a habit of expecting the usual attendant, 59, 61, This
customary transition is the impression from which we form the idea
of necessary connexion.
E. Reasoning from effect to cause and conversely , 105-115 (w. Pro-
vidence').
In arguing from effect to cause we must not infer more qualities in
the cause than are required to produce the effect, nor reason backwards
from an inferred cause to new effects, 105-8 ; we can reason back
from cause to new effects in the case of human acts by analogy which
rests on previous knowledge,^ 111-2; when the effect is entirely
singular and does not belong to any species we cannot infer its cause
at all, 115.
F. Definitions of Cause — 60 (cf. 74 »).
Ceremonies — 41.
Chance — ignorance of causes, 46 ; has no existence, 74 (w. Cause B).
Chastity — rules of, based on utility, 166-8, 188, 195.
Cheerfulness — ^great merit of not due to ntility, ao3.
Cicero— 4, 266, 151 «, 266 n.
Circle — in reasoning, 30.
Civil-law— 158 n {v. Justice B).
Clarke— 37 n, 158 n.
INDEX. 351
Cleanliness — 315.
Colour — peculiarity of ideas of, 16.
Conscience — blessings of a good, 233.
Constitution — of man ; morals dependent on, and so on will of God,
246.
Contiguity — 19, 42.
Contradiction — the test of demonstration, 132.
Contrariety — ig «.
Contrary — of matter of fact always possible, 21, 132.
Convention — in what sense the source of justice, 257.
Courage — its utility and peculiar lustre, 205 ; excessive, 208 ; involun-
tary, 262-3.
Creation — 132 ».
Crime — dist. blemish, fault, vice, 268.
Criticism — 132 ; and sympathy, 182.
Cadworth — 57 «, 158 ».
Custom — when strongest conceals itself, 24; an ultimate principle of
all conclusions from experience, 36, 127 ; and belief, 39-45 ; gives
rise to inferences of animals, 84 ; makes judgements appear instinctive,
162 ; makes moral judgements delicate, 176 [p. Cause B),
Pecenoy — or decorum, 215.
Defect — opp. vice, 261 f.
Definition — only applicable to complex ideas, 49; need of, 131;
of cause, 60.
Degree — of qualities makes them blameable or laudable, 191.
Demonstrative — opp. intuitive, 20 ; reasoning, 30 ; confined to quan-
tity and number, 131 ; impossible to demonstrate a fact since no
negation of a fact can involve a contradiction, 132.
Descartes — 57 «. ; his universal doubt antecedent to study if strictly
taken is incurable, since even from an indubitable first principle
no advance can be made except by the faculties which we doubt, 116;
his appeal to the veracity of God is useless, 1 20 {v. Scepticism, 116-
132)-
Design — argument from, 105 f. (j». Providence).
Desire — there must be an original propensity of some kind to serve^ as a
basis for self-love, and this may be benevolence : the most elaborate
selfishness can only attain the indulgence of some affections, 230.
Some desires incapable of further explanation, 244; can desire be
disinterested 1 (w. Passion, Self-love, 248-254).
Primary and secondary, 253.
Disoretion — 193, 262.
Divisibility — of mathematical and physical points, 124.
Doubt — Cartesian, 116, 120 {p. Scepticism A).
Drama— interest of, due to sympathy, 180,
Duty— to ourselves, a68.
352 INDEX:..
Education — makes judgements appear intaitive, 162 ; did not originate
all moral distinctions, i^S-
Sloquenoe — 212.
SndB — ultimate, inexplicable by reason, 244-5 > Happiness of society as
an end, 178.
Enterprise — 193.
Envy — 202 n.
Epictetus — 34, 266.
Epicurean — philosophy, defence of, 102-15 ; denial of providence
and future state is harmless, 104 '^. Providence).
or Hobbist, 249.
Equality — perfect, is not the principle of justice, 155 ; of possessions
destructive to industry, 155.
Esteem — dist. love, 265 n.
Euclid — truths in, do not depend on existence of circles or triangles,
20.
Evidence — moral and natural, 70 ; value of human, 82-9 {v. Miracles\.
Evil — doctrine of necessity either makes God the cause of evil or
denies existence of evil as regards the whole, 78-81.
Existence — external and perception, 118-9 C^- Scepticism, B, 116-32).
Ex nihilo nibil — 132 ».
Experience — {v. Cause A, 23-33) i opposition of reason and experience
usual, but really erroneous and superficial, 36 n.
Infallible, may be regarded as proof, 87 (v. Miracles') ; all the
philosophy and religion in the world cannot carry us beyond the usual
course of experience, 113.
Experimentum — crucis, 178.
Extension — 50; a supposed primary quality, 122.
Faction — due to sympathy, 182, 224.
Faith — 101, 132.
Family — 151.
Fault — dist. vice, crime, 268.
Fiction — and fact {v. Cause C), 39 f.
Fidelity — 195.
Friendship — disinterested, 248-9, 254.
Frugality — 194, 262.
Future — inference to, from past, 29 (». Cause A).
General — ideas, do not really exist, but only particular ideas attached
to a general term, 125 n,
General Bules — often extended beyond the principle whence they first
arise, 167 ; intercourse with other men produces a general unalter*
able standard by which we approve in spite of the variations of our
sympathies, 186 ; hence we ascribe uniform merit to social virtues,
187 ; of blame or praise arise A'om ' sentiment of humanity,' which
INDEZ^ 353
General Bules.
is alone common and comprehensive etiougli, 221 (». Sympathy, C) ;
savages make little use of them, 223 n.
Required by public utility in administration of justice, and benefit
of justice arises only from observance of the general rule, 256.
Geography — mental, 8.
Geometry — propositions of certain, as depending only on relations of
ideas not on existence of objects, 20 ; gives no knowledge of ultimate
causes : only applies laws discovered by experience, 27.
God — idea of, 14 ; no idea of except what we learn from reflection on
our own faculties, 57 ; theory that God is cause of all motion and
thought, causes being only occasions of his volition, 54-57 ; by
doctrine of necessity either there are no bad actions or God is the
cause of evil, 78-81.
Veracity of, appealed to, 120.
And creation of matter, 132 «.
V. Providence, 102-115 ; Scepticism, I16-132.
Cannot change eternal standard of reason, but His will determines
constitution of man, and so determines the standard of morals, 246.
Golden — age, 107, ijo.
Government — only necessary to preserve peace and order, 164.
Gratitude — rather than self-love, may be cause of the affection we have
for justice and beneficence, 199.
Disinterested, 252.
Gravity — 26.
Grotius — 257 n.
Habit — {^. Custom, Cause B).
Happiness — produced by benevolence like a wall, by justice like
a vault, 256.
Greatest, 228; of benevolence, 230-1.
Of justice, 232 ; dependent on a iiiendly and humane heart rather
than on heroic virtues, 264.
Heart — and head, 362 f.
History — use of, 65 ; interest in, due to sympathy, 181.
Hobbes — 151 n, 248.
Honesty — 195.
Human — ^nature, inconstancy a constant character of, 68.
Humanity — {v. Benevolence, Sympathy).
Humility — a monkish virtue and really a vice, 219.
Ideas — A. Origin of , 11 -17.
Perceptions divided into impressions and ideas, u-i3 ; the mind
can only compound the materials derived from outward or inward
sentiment, 13 (cf. 53) ; all ideas resolvable into simple ideas copied
from precedent feelings, 14 ; deficiency in an organ of sensation
A a
354 IN^^^'
Ideas.
produces deficiency in corresponding idea, 15-16; suspected ideas
to be tested by asking for the impression from wliich it is derived,
17 (cf. 49); idea of reflection, 51; general ideas, 125 »; innate
ideas, 19 n ; power of will over ideas, 53.
B. Asiociation of, 18-19.
Ideas introduce each other with a certain degree of method and
regularity, 18 j only three principles of association, viz. Resem-
blance, Contiguity, and Cause or Effect, 19 ; contrariety, 19 « ;
production of belief by these principles, 41-43.
O. Correspondence of ideas and course of nature, 44 ; relations
of ideas one of two possible objects of enquiry, 20 ; such rela-
tions discoverable by the mere operation of thought, 20, 131 ;
no demonstration possible except in case of ideas of quantity or
number, 131.
Imagination — 11, 39; and belief, 40 ; does not explain approbation of
social virtues, 176 ; does not explain approbation of qualities useful
to the possessor, 191 ; said by Hobbists to transform self-love into
appearance of disinterestedness, 249 ; imaginary interest cannot
account for the thousand appearances of general benevolence, 252
{y. Self-love).
Impressions — all our more lively perceptions, 12 ; the test of ideas, 17,
49-
Inanimate — objects cannot be virtuous, 172 «.
Incest — peculiar turpitude of explained, 12.
Inconceivability — of the negative, 132 (cf. 20).
Industry — 194, 262, 263.
Inertia — 57 «.
Inference — and similarity, 30, 115 (». Catiii).
Infinite — divisibility, 124 f.
Ingratitude — 236-8 ; a vice, because the absence of a virtue, 204 n.
Iiistances — multiplication of not required by reason, 31.
Instinct — 258 n \ more trustworthy than reasoning, 45 ; the basis of
all experimental reasoning, 85 ; the basis of realism, 118, X2i ; not
the source of justice or property, 161-2.
Intellectual — dist. moral endowments, 262 f. (». Virtue A).
Intention — considered in moral judgments, 185 m.
Intuitive — opp. mediate reasoning, 29 ; appearance of judgements due
to education, 162.
Jurisprudence — fanciful element in, 259.
Justice— A. Origin of Justice, 145, 153, 256-8.
(a) Public utility the sole origin of justice and reflections on its
beneficial consequences the sole foundation of its merit, 145, 163 ;
the utility of, not evident in every single case- but arises from the
whole scheme or system ; so while benevolence builds up happiness
INDEX. 355
Juatioe.
like a wall, justice builds it li]ce a vault, 256 (cf. 232, 234) ; imper-
fection of human, 109; after the laws of justice are fixed there
is a double harmfulness in their violation, 260.
(4) Abundance of external conveniences or extensive benevolence
would render justice unnecessary, 145-6, 149; so justice suspended
by extreme want oi necessaries, 147 ; and in case of criminals and
public war, 148 ; the common situation of man is a mean where jus-
tice is useful and therefore meritorious and obligatory, 149 ; no
justice in golden age, 150; nor in state of nature represented as
a state of war, 151 ; no justice towards animals because no incon-
venience in injustice towards them, 152 ; if each man were complete
in himself there would be no justice, 153; not so binding between
societies as between individuals because not so useful, 165 ; among
robbers, 170.
(f) Sentiment of, not derived from instinct, 160 ; does not arise
from a promise, for the observance of promises is a considerable part
of justice, 257 ; arises from a convention as a sense of common "
interest, e. g. such a convention as exists between two oarsmen, or as
establishes currency or language, 257. '
Vain to dispute whether it is natural owing to ambiguity of word :
it is as natural as self-love, benevolence, reason, and forethought : in
so sagacious an animal as man the necessary product of his reason
may justly be esteemed natural, 258.
(d) Why the utility of justice pleases and commands our affection
and approbation, 173 f. (». Utility) ; the affection we have for
justice may be due to gratitude, not self-love, 199 ; the approbation
of the social virtues feels different from that of the accomplishments
and talents, 265.
B. Rules of Justice.
The particular rules by which justice is regulated and pro-
perty determined only aim at good of mankind, 154; this excludes
the principle of proportioning property to merit which would
dissolve society, 154; so also the principle of absolute equality
is not employed because it is impracticable, 155; all writers
on laws of nature end with utility whatever principles they begin
with, 156; where utility cannot decide between rival rules analogy
is used, and where both fail civil laws supply the place of the natural
code, 157, 259 ; use of precedents which are often fanciful, 259 ;
property altogether subordinate to civil laws which ultimately con-
sider only the happiness of human society, 158; in which respect
alone the rules of property differ from superstitions, 159; the rules of
property too numerous and various to be derived from instincts, 161 ;
though education and habit make our judgements appear distinctive
to us, 162.
General inflexible rules of property are required by public utility,
A a 2
356 INDEX.
Justice.
and in spite of the particular hardships they entail produce a balance
of good, 256; property and possession, 259 «.
Iia BruySre — 4.
Language — of morals, 223; caprices of, 263.
Laws— civil and natural, 158, 158«, 256, 259,' legal treatment of
morals by theology, 268.
Levellers — 154.
Liberty — {v. Necessity, 62-97).
Definition of hypothetical liberty, 73.
Necessary to morality, 77.
Locke — 4, 40 n, 50 n, 57 n.
His loose use of 'ideas/ 19 «; betrayed into frivolous disputes
about innate ideas by the School-men, 19 « ; distinction of primary
and secondary qualities, 122 ; selfish theory of morals, 248.
Love — disinterested, between sexes, 252.
Parental, 252 ; and esteem, 265 «.
(v. Benevolence, Sympathy).
Magnanimity — 204.
Malebranche — 4, 67 «, 158 «.
Malice — disinterested, does not exist, 184.
Man — a reasonable and active being, 4.
Maniohaeana — 184.
Manners — rules of good, based on utility, a kind of lesser morality, 169,
211 ; a considerable part of personal merit, 216, 229.
Marriage— rules of, based on and vary with utility, 118.
Mathematics — ideas of, clear and determinate, hence their superiority
to moral and metaphysical sciences, 48 ; their difficulty, 48.
Mathematical and physical points, I24«.
Matter— necessity of, 64; creation of, 132 n [v. Scepticism A).
Matter-of-fact — contrary of, always possible, 21 ; arguments to new,
based only on cause and effect, 22 ; in moral virtues, not discernible
by reason, 236-7 ; reason judges either of matter-of-fact or of rela-
tions, 237.
Mean — golden, determined by utility, 191.
Memory — 198.
Merit —the elements of unmistakeable, 138 (v. Virtue, B, 217 f.); justice
cannot proportion property to merit, 154 ; uniform merit ascribed to
social virtues, 185-7; must consist in the possession of mental quali-
ties useful or agreeable to the person himself or to others, 217
(V. Utility).
Metaphysics — not a science, 5-6 ; how inferior and superior to mathe-
matics, 48 ; and morals, 239.
Mind -^mental geography, 8 ; secret springs and principles of, 5 ; can
mDEX-. 357
Mind,
only mix and compound materials given by inward and outward
sentiment, 13; power of will over, 53.
Miracles — 86-101.
Belief in human evidence diminishes according as the event
witnessed is unusual or extraordinary, 89 ; difference between
extraordinary and miraculous, 19 »; if the evidence for a miracle
amounted to proof we should have one proof opposed by another
proof, for the proof against a miracle is as complete as possible ;
an event is not miraculous unless there is a uniform experience,
that is a proof, against it, 90 ; definition of miracle, 90 « ; hence
no testimony is sufficient to establish a miracle unless its falsehood
would be more miraculous than the event it establishes, 9 1 ; as a fact
the evidence for a miracle has never amounted to proof, 92 ; the
passion for the wonderful in human nature, 93 ; prevalence of miracles
in savage and early periods and their diminution with civilization,
94 ; the evidence for miracles in matters of religion opposed by the
almost infinite number of witnesses for rival religions, 95 ; value
of human testimony diminished by temptation to pose as a pro-
phet or apostle, 97 ; no testimony for a miracle has ever amounted
to a probability, much less to a proof, and if it did amount to a proof
it would be opposed by another perfect proof, 98 ; so a miracle car
never be proved so as to be the foundation of a system of religion, 99;
a conclusion which confounds those who base the Christian religion
on reason, not on faith, loo ; the Christian religion cannot be believed
without a miracle which will subvert the principle of a man's under-
standing and give him a determination to' believe what is most
contrary to custom and experience, loi.
Mistake — of fact, opp. mistake of right, 241.
Modesty — 2 13.
Monkisli — virtues, of celibacy, self-denial, humility, are really vices,
219.
Montesquieu — 158, 158 «.
Moral — evil (q.v.) 80.
Opp. intellectual endowments, 262 f. (». Virtue A).
Moral distinctions.
A. Are they derived from Reason oy Feeling? 134-8, 234-46.
(o) Do they arise from argument or from immediate feeling or finer
internal sense ? should they be the same for all rational beings or may
they vary with particular constitutions, 134 (cf. 246); Ancients
said that virtue was conformity to reason and yet derived them from
taste and sentiment : Moderns such as Shaftesbury talk of the
beauty and virtue, but explain them by metaphysical reasonings and
deductions, 134; it is said they must be derived from reason if men
reason about them, 135; and again that if based on reason they would
produce no actions, 136 (cf. 235)! probably reason and sentiment
358 INDEX.
Moral distinctions.
concur in most moral conclusions : the final sentence is pronotmced
by some internal sense which nature has made universal in the whole
species, but this sense, like the sense of beauty, is assisted by such
reasoning, which corrects a false relish and enables us to feel the
proper sentiment, 137 (cf. 117, 185) ; if usefulness is the foundation of
praise, much reason is required to show the useful tendencies and
actions, 234 ; but reason alone is not sufficient to produce moral
approbation : there must be a sentiment which prefers the useful
tendencies, and this can only be"a feeling of humanity, 235 (cf. 221-2);
the ultimate ends of human actions can never be accounted for by
reason, but only by some desire for which no reason can be given, 244 ;
the boundaries of reason and taste easily ascertained ; reason discovers
truth and falsehood and shows things as they really are ; taste is
a productive faculty and colours its objects : reason is cool and dis-
engaged ; taste, giving pleasure or pain, becomes a motive to action :
the standard of reason is eternal and inflexible even by God ; that of
taste arises from the constitution which is bestowed on men by God,
246 (cf. 134).
(j>) Reason alone cannot show the demerit in ingratitude, 236 ; it
judges either of matter of fact or of relations : where is the matter of
fact which we call ingratitude? 237 ; if the crime consists in certain
relations, what are they ? there is the same relation of contrariety in
ingratitude and in rewarding good for evil, 238 ; there is a circle in
saying that morality consists in a relation of actions to the rule of
right, and that the rule of right is determined by reason from the
moral relations of actions, 239 ; relations are considered in a different
way by speculative and moral reasoning : in speculation we infer
unknown from known relations ; in morals we require to know all
the relations, and then we award praise or blame vdthout using our
reason, 240 ; hence the great difference between a mistake of fact
and of right, 241 ; natural beauty depends on relations of parts, but
the perception of beauty is not merely the perception of these by
reason, 242 ; inanimate objects may bear the same relations as moral
agents and yet are not praised or blamed, 243.
B. Reality of Moral distinctions {v. Self-Lave, 174-223, 247-254).
Reality of, cannot be seriously denied, 133 ; not the result of educa-
tion alone but arise from the original constitution of human nature,
173 ; cannot be explained by avarice, ambition, vanity, or other pas-
sions vulgarly, though improperly, comprised under self-love, 233 ;
since virtue is an end and desirable in itself without fee or reward there
must be some sentiment which distinguishes it, 245 ; by all the (rules
of philosophy we must conclude that the sentiments of morality and
of humanity are originally the same, since they are governed by the
same laws and moved by the same objects, 192 (cf. 183-4) > "^^o °ily
be explained by a sentiment common to all men and extending to
INDEX.
359
Moral distinctions.
tjie actions of all men however remote : it must be both common and
comprehensive, and such is the sentiment of humanity alone, 221-
222 (cf. 235), which give rise to moral language, 223 ; still the con-
tinued dispute about the foundation of moral duties produces
diffidence and scepticism, 227.
General and unalterable standard of moral distinctions, 185-7,
196 [^. General).
V. also Utility, Virtue, Sympathy.
iloral science — 30, 132 ; inductive, 138 ; inferior to mathematics, 48 ;
sceptical objections to, 1 26-7 ; should accept obvious explanations of
phenomena, and not seek for remote causes as physics does, 251
(cf. 9). (w. Self-love).-
Moral evidence easily combined with natural, 70.
notion — 50.
Nations — laws of, 165
Natural— opp. civil, law, 157, 259; law, uses utility as a standard,
159-
Affection, gives rise to moral distinctions, 173.
Beauty, of social virtues, 173.
Use of the word so varied that it is vain to dispute whether justice be
natural or not : in so sagacious an animal as man, what necessarily
arises from the exertion of his reason may justly be esteemed natural,
258-
Opp. unusual, miraculous, artificial, 258 n.
Nature — design in, 105 f. {v. Providence), and the course of our
ideas, 44.
State of, a philosophical fiction, 151, 151 n.
Necessary — connexion (w. Cause).
Necessity — two definitions of, 75.
A. and Liberty, 62-81 ; the controversy is based on ambiguity,
and all mankind have always been of the same opinion on this
subject, 63 ; our idea of the necessity of matter arises solely from
observed uniformity and consequent inference, circumstances which
are allowed by all men to exist in respect of human action, 64 ;
history and knowledge of human nature assume such uniformity, 65,
which does not exclude variety due to education and progress, 66 ;
irregular actions to be explained by secret operation of contrary
causes, 67 ; the inconstancy of human action, its constant character,
as of winds and weather, 68 ; we all acknowledge axiA draw inferences
from the regular conjunction of motives and actions, 69 ; history,
politics, and morals show this, and the possibility of combining moral
and natural evidence shows that they have a common origin, 70 ; the
reluctance to acknowledge the necessity of actions due to a lingering
belief that we can see real connexion behind mere conjunction, 71 j
360 INDEX.
Necessity.
we should begin with the examination not of the soni and will but
of brute matter, 72 ; the prevalence of the liberty doctrine due to
a false sensation of liberty and a false experiment, 72 « ; though this
question is the most contentious of all, mankind has always agreed in
the doctrine of liberty, if we mean by it that hypothetical liberty
which consists in a power of acting or not acting according to the
determinations of our will, and which can be ascribed to every one
who is not a prisoner, 73 ; liberty when opposed to necessity, and
not merely to constraint, is the same as chance, 74.
B. Both necessity and liberty are necessary to morality, this
doctrine of necessity only alters onr view of matter and so is at least
innocent, 75 ; rewards and punishments imply the uniform influence
of motives, and connexion of character and action : if necessity
be denied, a man may commit any crime and be no worse for it, 76 i
liberty also essential to morality, 77.
Objection that doctrine of necessity and of a regular chain of causes
either makes God the cause of evil, or abolishes evil in actions,
78 ; Stoic answer, that the whole system is good, is specious but
ineffectual in practice, 79 ; no speculative argument can counteract
the impulse of our natural sentiments to blame certain actions. So ;
how God can be the cause of all actions without being the author of
moral evil is a mystery with which philosophy cannot deal, 81.
Negative — inconceivability of, 132.
Newton — 57«, 163.
Niaus — 52 «, 60 «.
Number — the object of demonstration, 131.
Obligation — 149, 159; moral, proportionate to usefulness, 165-6; to
virtue, due to fact that any man who has regard to his own happiness
will find his account in the practice of every moral duty, at the cost
only of just calculation and a steady preference of greater happiness,
^28 ; the advantage of virtues, useful or agreeable to the possessor,
and of the companionable virtues needs no proof, 229; and it is no
more doubtful that the enlarged virtues of humanity, generosity, and
benevolence, conduce to happiness : benevolence itself may be the
original basis of self-love, 230 (cf. 253) ; no other passion unites so
many advantages as benevolence, 232-3 (z;. Utility).
Occasional causes — theory of, 55.
Order — preservation of, the sole function of Government, 164.
Farallelisni — between thought and course of nature, 44-5.
Party — zeal, due to sympathy, 182, 224.
Passion— all a man can attain by the most elaborate selfishness is
the gratification of some passion, 230; there must be original pro-
, pensities of some kind to be the basis of self-love, and benevolence
INDEX, 361
Passion.
itself may be such a basis, 231 ; theory that no passion can be
disinterested, 248 ; this due to false love of simplicity, 250; best
explained by most obvious hypothesis, 251 ; theory of disinterested,
more truly simple than selfish theory : there are direct an4 primary
passions, and secondary passions for the pleasure of gratifying the
primary : without such primary passions directed immediately to their
objects, self-love could not exert itself, 253; benevolence maybe
a direct desire for another's good, 254.
Calm, confused with Reason, 196.
Life without, insipid and tiresome, 231.
Of benevolence unites more advantages than any other, 231 ;
extraordinary, roused by consideration of fortunes of others, 202 «.
Patriotism — a necessary limit to benevolence, 182 n.
Perception. — and external objects, 119 f. {v. Scepticism, Impression,
Idea).
Peripatetics — and golden mean, 191.
Perseverance — 262.
Philanthropy— natural, 184 (v. Benevolence, Self-love).
Philosophy — moral, two branches of, abstruse and practical, I-5 ;
gratifies innocent curiosity, 6 ; metaphysics tries to deal with matters
inaccessible to human understanding, 6.
True, must lay down limits of understanding, 7 (cf. 113); a large
part of, consists in mental geography, 8 ; may hope to resolve prin-
ciples of mind into still more general principles, 9.
Natural, only staves off our ignorance a little longer, as moral or
metaphysical philosophy serves only to discover larger portions of it,
26 ; academical, or sceptical, flatters no bias or passion except love
of truth, and so has few partisans, 34 ; though it destroy speculation,
cannot destroy action, for nature steps in and asserts her rights, 34 ;
moral, inferior to mathematics in clearness of ideas, superior in
shortness of arguments, 48.
Controversies in, due to ambiguity of terms, 62.
Encroaches on grammar improperly, 261 f.
Disputes in, not be settled by appeal to dangerous consequences of
a doctrine, 75 (cf. 228).
Speculative, entirely indifferent to the peace of society and security
of government, 104 (cf 114).
, All the philosophy in the world, and all the religion in the world,
which is nothing but a species of philosophy, can never carry us
beyond the usual course of experience, 113.
Tranquillity of, 206; happiness of, to have originated in an age
and country of freedom and toleration, 102 ; of all kinds, and
especially morals, more united with theology in modem than in
ancient times, 268.
Pity — 202 n.
3di2 INDEX.
Flats — 151 «, 166 «.
Pleasure — the object of secondary and interested passion, 253.
Flutarch — j66.
Poetry — pastoral, 180 ; peculiar charm of, 209.
Points — physical, indivisible, 124 «.
Political — society, advantage of, 164.
Politicians — could not have invented moral distinctions, 173.
Polybius — deduces morals from self-love, 174, 266.
Possession — and property, 259 n.
Power — 50 f, 60 «. {v. Cause D).
Precedents — in law, 359.
Pride — noble, 213 ; good and bad, 263 n.
Probability — 46 f. (w. Cause, "S).
Probable — arguments, 38, 46 ».
Production — 50 w.
Promises — not the foundation of justice, 257.
Proof — 46 n, 86-101 (z/. Miracles, Demonstrative).
Property — {v. Justice), 154 f.
and possession and accession, 259 n.
Providence — 1 02-1 15 {v. God).
The sole argument for a divine existence is from the tnarks of
design in nature; must not infer greater power in the cause than
is necessary to produce the observed effects, nor argue from such an
inferred cause to any new effects which have not been observed,
105 ; so must not infer in God more power, wisdom, and benevolence
than appears in nature, 106 ; so it is unnecessary to try and save the
honour of the Gods by assuming the intractability of matter or the
observance of general laws, 107; to argue from effects to unknown
causes, and then from these causes to unknown effects, is a gross
sophism, 108.
From imperfect exercise of justice in this world we cannot infer
its perfect exercise in a future world, 109 ; we must regulate our
conduct solely by the experienced train of events, no; in case of
human works of art we can infer the perfect from the imperfect, but
that is because we know man by experience and also know other
instances of his art, 111-112 ; but in the case of God we only know
him by his productions, and do not know any class of beings to
which he belongs, 113 ; and the universe, his production, is entirely
singular and does not belong to a known species of things, 115.
Prudence — 262.
Public — spirit, 199.
Punishment — requires doctrines of necessity and liberty, 76 {p. Nie-
eessiiy).
Pyrrhonism — 1 26.
Qualities — primary and secondary, 12 a.
Index. 363
Quantity — and number, the only objects of demonstration, the parts of
them being entirely similar, 131.
Real — presence, 86.
Reality — and thought, 44.
Realism — of the vulgar, 1 1 8.
Reason — (o) opp. sentiment or taste, 134; opp. intuition, 29; opp.
experience, 28, 36 n.
Confused with calm passion, 196.
{b) Corrects sympathy and senses, 117, 185 (cf. 137) ; function of
in morals, 133-8, 234-6, 246 {-0. Moral Distinctions).
No match for nature, 34.
Fallacious, compared with instinct, 45.
Of men and animals, 84 n.
(c) The standard of, being founded on the nature of things, is
eternal and inflexible even by the will of the supreme being, 246;
conclusions of, must be the same for all rational beings, 134;
attempts to destroy, by reasoning, 124; objections to abstract
reasoning, I24f. (v. Scepticispi).
(d) Reasoning.
Two kinds of, demonstrative and moral, 30, 46 «, 132 ; moral,
138; moral, divided into general and particular, 132; produces
demonstrations, proofs, and probabilities, 46 n.
Probable {v. Cause, 28-32).
Itelations — of ideas, discoverable by the mere operation of thought,
independently of the existence of any object, 20.
Do not constitute the virtue or vice of actions, 238-9 ; considered
in different ways by moral and natural science, 240 ; beauty not
explained solely by relations, 242.
Religion — a kind of philosophy, 113 {v. Miracles, Providence).
Resemblance — 19, 41 {v. Similarity).
Resistance — and idea of power, 52 «.
Riches — regard for, not explained by self-love (q. v.), 201-2.,
Rochefoucauld — 263 tt.
Rules — of right, 239.
Rules, general — often extended beyond the principle whence they
first arise, and so their utility concealed, 167 ; correct the variations
of sympathy, 185 ; by intercourse we form a general unalterable
standard by which we approve of manners, and ascribe a uniform
merit to the social virtues, 186-7 (cf- 221-3, v. Sympathy "&) ; of
conduct formed by our calm passions and propensities, which are
confused by us vrith reason, 196.
Satisfaction — of some affection all that can be attained by most
elaborate selfishness, 230.
Self, 263.
364 INDEX.
Scepticism — A. antecedent to study and philosophy, such as Descartes'
universal doubt of our faculties, would be incurable: in a more
moderate sense it is useful, 116 (cf. 129-30); extravagant attempU
of, to destroy reason by reasoning, 124.
No such absurd creature as a man who has no opinion about
anything at all, 116; admits of no answer and produces no conviction,
122 n. (cf. 34, 126, 128).
B. As to the Senses, 117-123.
The ordinary criticisms of our senses only show that they have
■ to be corrected by Reason, 117; more profound arguments show
that the vulgar belief in external objects is baseless, and that the
objects we see are nothing but perceptions which are fleeting copies
of other existences, 118; even this philosophy is hard to justify;
it appeals neither to natural instinct, nor to experience, for experience
tells nothing of objects which perceptions resemble, 119 ; the appeal
to the veracity of God is useless, 120; and scepticism is here
triumphant, 121.
The distinction between primary and secondary qualities is useless,
for the supposed primary qualities are only perceptions, 122; and
Berkeley's theory that ideas of primary qualities are obtained by
abstraction is impossible, 122, I22«; if matter is deprived of both
primary and secondary qualities there is nothing left except a mere
something which is not worth arguing about, 123.
C. As to Reason, 124-130.
Attempt to destroy Reason by reasoning extravagant, 124;
objection to abstract reasoning because it asserts infinite divisi-
bility of extension which is shocking to common sense, 124, and
infinite divisibility of time, 125; yet the ideas attacked are so
clear and distinct that scepticism becomes sceptical about itself,
125.
Popular objections to moral reasoning about matter of fact, based
on weakness of understandingj variation of judgement, and disagree-
ment among men, confuted by action, 126; philosophical objections,
that we only experience conjunction and that inference is based
on custom, 127 ; excessive scepticism refuted by its uselessness and
put to flight by the most trivial event in life, 128.
Mitigated scepticism or academical philosophy useful as a cor-
rective and as producing caution and modesty, 1 29 ; and as limiting
understanding to proper objects, 130 ; all reasoning which is not
either abstract, about quantity and number, or experimental, about
matters of fact, is sophistry and illusion, 13a.
D. In Morals {v. Self-love).
In Religion {v. Miracles, Providence').
Sciences — 132 {v. Reason, (d); Scepticism, C).
Secret — powers, 29 ; counteracting causes, 47, 67.
Self-denial — a monkish virtue and really a vice, 219, 228.
INDEX. 365
Self-love.
A. Theory that through man's connexion with society and interest
in its welfare, he approves of the social virtues from self-love :
this theory though held by many is plainly opposed by the voice of
nature and experience, 174; we praise actions opposed to our interests
or in which we have no interest ; we distinguish, both to ourselves
and others, laudable from advantageous actions, 175.
A Hobbist says that imagination turns our self-love into a variety
of appearances : we reply that at all events we approve those in
whom their self-love takes the appearance of benevolence, and dis-
approve those who appear to seek their own enjoyment ; the difference
between the two characters cannot be destroyed by minute reflections
upon their origin, 249.
To say that we put ourselves by imagination in the place of the
persons affected by the actions is a wealc subterfuge — imagination of
• another's interest could not overcome a present view of our own
interest, 176; we are not indifferent to others' interest, 177; every-
thing which contributes to the happiness of society recommends itself
directly to our approval, 178-188 (z;. Syvipathy) ; the utility of the
social virtues moves us not by any regard of self-interest but by
affecting the benevolent principles of our frame, 189.
B. Our approval of qualities useful to the possessor cannot be due
to self-love — imagination cannot convert us into another person,
still less transport us baclc into ourselves : all suspicion of selfish
regards is here excluded, 191 ; any man must sliow a preference for
what is useful, 192.
It is still more difficult to resolve the selfish virtues, whose merit
consists in their tendency to serve their possessor, into self-love than
it is to so resolve the social virtues : every one is really interested in
the social virtues, though he approves them rather from gratitude than
self-love, but the other virtues can only appeal to a disinterested
regard for others. This is a natural and unforced interpretation of
the phenomena of human life, 199, 251 ; the selfish theory is
contrary to obvious appearances, and all the systems which maintain it
are based on that false love of simplicity which is so dangerous in
philosophy, 250; in moral science the presumption is always in
.favour of the most obvious causes : we cannot account for strong
passions by treating them as the result of refined reflections on self-
interest, 251; such explanations inapplicable to the kindness of
animals, love between the sexes, parental affection and gratitude:
there are a thousand marks of a ' general benevolence ' in human
nature, where no real interest binds us to the object, much less any
imaginary interest, 252.
Cannot account for our regard for riches, 201 ; which beget
esteem in us merely because they serve to satisfy the appetites of their
possessor, 202. . . -
366 INDEX,
SelMore.
C. The vulgar dispute about the degrees of self-love and benevo-
lence in human nature can never have any issue, 220, however
interesting as a speculative question, 250; the question whether
either general or particular benevolence can be resolved into some
more general principle is more curious than important, 250 « ;
avarice, ambition, vanity and all such passions vulgarly thpugh
improperly classed under self-love are not common or comprehensive
enough to explain the facts of moral judgement, 221 ; when a man
calls another his rival, he speaks from self-love and expresses feelings
peculiar to himself; when he calls him vicious he expects his audience
to concur in his feeling, takes up a common point of view and
appeals to some universal principle of human nature, 222 ; the
general judgements of this principle often limit and control those of
self-love, 223.
The selfish and social sentiments are no more opposed than selfish
and ambitious, selfish and revengeful, selfish and vain. There must
be an original propensity to be a basis for self-love, and benevolence
is as good a propensity to satisfy as any other : all a man can gain
by the most elaborate selfishness is the satisfaction of some affection,
230 (cf. 248). There are bodily appetites for certain objects, and
secondary or interested desires for the pleasure of gratifying these
primary appetites : so also there are primaiy mental passions for
fame, power and vengeance, and corresponding secondary passions :
self-love cannot exert itself without antecedent appetites, 253 ; so
benevolence and friendship are direct desiresfor another's good, giving
rise to a secondary interested desire, 254.
Senses — outward and inward sensation supplies all the materials of
thinking — must be corrected by reason, 117, 185 (cf. 137).
Scepticism concerning, 117 {v. Scepticism, B).
Sentiment — blind but sure testimony of taste and, 216.
Of humanity, 192, 221-3, 235 {v. Sympathy).
Of morals {v. Moral Distinctions).
Shaftesbury — confusion in his system, 134,
Similarity — basis of all arguments from experience, 31 (cf. 115).
Social — virtues, 172 f, 262, 265 (w. Utility, Benevolence, Justice).
Society — and justice, 256-7 ; connexion of individual with does not
explain social virtues, 174 {y. Justice, Sympathy).
Solidity — 50 ; a supposed primary quality, 122.
Soul — and body, 52,
Space — and time, 124 f.
Species — an effect which belongs to no species does not admit of
inference to its cause, 115 (cf. 113).
Standard — of morals, general and unalterable, 186 (v. Rules),
State — of nature, 151 «.
Stoics— 34, 79.
INDEX, 367
Strength— of mind, 196.
Success — not necessary to virtue, 185 «.
Suicide— ancient, 204 n.
Superstition — 6, 159 (». Providence).
Sympathy.
A. We mnst own that the interests of society are not even on their
own account indifferent to us : everthing which contributes to the
happiness of society recommends itself directly to our approbation
and good will, 178 ; the very aspect of happiness pleases us, 179;
■we cannot resist sympathetic movements of pleasure or uneasiness,
180; hence our great interest in public news, and even ancient
history, iSi.
Social sympathy is shown in the power of party and factions
which excite a concern superior to the narrow attachments of self-love
and private interest : so sympathy governs our criticism of style in
letters and our judgements of beauty in art, 182.
An unsympathetic man is also indifferent to virtue, a sympathetic
man shows a delicate power of drawing moral distinctions, 183.
In all men the principles of humanity give a general approbation
of what is useful to society, though in different degrees in different
men, 183.
When the natural philanthropy of men is not prevented they
prefer the happiness of society and virtue : there is no such thing as
disinterested malice, 184.
There are a thousand marks of a ' general benevolence ' in human c
nature, where no real interest binds us to the object, much less any \
imaginary interest, 252 ; the theory of disinterested benevolence j
much simpler than the selfish theory, 253. (
B. Though our sympathy varies with the distance of objects, we
ascribe a uniform merit to actions, because our judgement corrects the
inequalities of our internal emotions and perceptions, 185 ; the differ-
ences caused by the variations of sympathy are eliminated by our calm
judgements through the intercourse of sentiments with other men,
and we form some general and unalterable standard, 186 ; so the merit
of the social virtues still appears uniform and arises from that regard I
which the natmal^ntitnent of benevolence engages us to pay to the
interests to society: man cannot be indifferent to the well or ill-
being of his fellows, though he need not feel any very strong
emotion towards virtue which is distant from him, J87-190.
C. The same objects are agreeable to the sentiments of morals and
of humanity : these sentiments are therefore originally the same since
they are governed by the same laws and moved by the same objects,
192, 220; the notion of morals implies some sentiment common to
all mankind which recommends the same object to general appro-
bation and extends to the actions of all men however remote : these
two circumstances belong to the sentiment of humanity alone, 221 ;
368 INDEX.
Sympathy.
when a man calls another viciotis he expects others to concur in his
feeling : he appeals to some universal principle in human nature i
this sentiment of humanity being common to all men, can alone be the
foundation of a general system of blame and praise : the humanity
of one man is the humanity of every one, 222 ; it is also the
only sentiment to vrhich no character of man is indifferent, 223.
System — of society, 174, 256, 257.
Talents — opp. virtues, 261.
Taste — in beauty, corrected by reasoning, 137.
A productive faculty, and a motive to action, so depends on the
peculiar constitution given by God to particular creatures: opp.
reason, 246.
The decision of good manners must be left to the blind but sure
testimony of taste and sentiment, being a part of ethics left by nature
to bafBethe pride of philosophy, 216.
Temperance — 229, 262.
Theology — science of, 132 ; influence of, on morals, greater in modem
than ancient times : treats moral like civil laws and so lays great
stress on voluntariness of actions, 268 (z". God, Providence).
Tillotson — argument against real presence, 86,
Time — and space, 1 24 f.
Tranquillity — philosophical, 206.
Truth — 8, 17, 246 {v. Scepticism).
Truthfulnesa — 195. '
Understanding — limits of human, 7 ; operations of, to be classified, 8 ;
opp. experience, 28 ; weakness of, 126 iv. Reason, Scepticism).
Universal — nature of moral judgement and of the sentiment of humanity,
221-2.
UtiUty.
A. Perceived by reason, 234; not actual utility but tendencies or
intentions considered in our moral judgements, 185 n ; of inanimate
objects does not make them virtuous, 172 » ; of justice makes it obli-
gatory, 149 ; no qualities absolutely blameable, but only certain
degrees: the happy medium settled by utility, 191-2; personal merit
must consist in the possession of mental qualities, either useful or
agreeable, either to the person himself or to others : there can bft no
other source of merit, 317 ; a foundation of the chief part of morals,
188.
B. Qualities useful to others : the social virtues.
Benevolence and justice, 141-163.
The sole object and standard of justice, 154-163 ; of justice often
obscure, 167, 186, 334; requires that laws of justice should be
; inflexible : the utility of justice only arises from the whole system,
INDEX. 369
UtUity.
356 (cf. 185-6) ; of laws of nations, not so great as that of laws of
intercourse between individuals, hence obligation not so great, 165 ;
of chastity greater in women than in men, hence greater strictness, 166 ;
of laws against incest, very great, 168 ; causes variations in laws of
marriage, 168 ; of laws of good manners, 169-70 ; of justice even in
immoral societies, 170-71.
C. Qualities useful to the possessor: the private virtues.
Of discretion, enterprise, 193 ; of industry, frugality, 194 ; honesty,
fidelity, and truth useful to society, but when once established
are secondarily useful to the person who possesses them, 195.
Of strength of mind, or prevalence of calm passions and pro-
pensities, 196 ; of capacity, 197 ; of refined sense, common sense,
judgement, memory, 198.
Of private virtues, more altered by particular circumstances and
customs than that of pubUc virtues: hence their merit more
arbitrary, 199 ; the guide of ourjudgements of beauty, 200 ; produces
contempt for barrenness, 200 ; of riches to their possessor pro-
duces a disinterested regard, 201 ; of family, 220.
D. Why Utility pleases' {v. Sympathy, Self-love).
Of social virtue, does not prove that moral distinctions arise from
education and are the invention of politicians, 173; as the social
virtues derive their merit chieily from their usefulness, the end they
promote (viz. the happiness of society) must be pleasing to us natu-
rally, either from considerations of self-interest or from more generous
regards, 173; considerations of self-interest, even with the aid of
imagination, do not explain our approval of social virtues : the voices
of nature and experience are plainly opposed to the selfish theory,
1 74-6 ; we approve of what is useful to those who are served by the
character or action approved of, and we are not indifferent to their
interests, 177; usefulness is only a tendency to a certain end, and
nothing can please as a means to an end where the end itself is
indifferent to us, 178.
Vanity — a direct passion terminating on its object, 214, 253; cannot
be used to explain origin of moral distinctions, 221 ; improperly
tres^ted as a form of self-love, 221.
Vengeance — disinterested, 254.
Vice— opp. defect, 261 f. (zi. Virttie, A {b)).
May be absence of virtue, 204 n.
Virtue.
A. (a) Definition of, 211, 239; an end desirable on its own
account without fee or reward, 245 ; why inanimate objects cannot
be virtuous, 172 « ; absence of, may be a vice, 204 n.
{b) Distinctions between Virtues and Talents, 261-267; the ques-
tion of the precise boundaries between virtues and talents, vices
Bb
37© INDEX.
Viptue.
and defects, is grammatical ; no such boundaries fixed in English or
any other modem tongue, 261 ; the question being merely verbal is
of small importance, 262 ; the small verbal distinction made corre-
sponds to the small difference in feeling, 263 ; even if the sentiment
of approbation of accomplishments is different from that of justice
and humanity, this is not a sufficient reason for ascribing them to
entirely different classes, 205 (cf. 172 k) ; a blemish, a fault, a vice,
a crime, express different degrees of censure which are however all of
them at the bottom pretty nearly of the same species, 268.
(i) We cannot limit virtue to voluntary laudable qualities, this
excludes many which depend little on our choice — e. g. courage, equa-
nimity, patience, 262 ; the ancients laid little stress on the voluntariness
of virtue, 267 ; which was emphasized by theology, which treated
moral like civil laws, 268.
(ii) Catmot oppose virtues to intellectual endowments, for such
as prudence, discernment, discretion, have great influence on conduct :
though we call a man virtuous chiefly for his social qualities, no one
ever says seriously that such a one is a man of great virtue but an
egregious blockhead, 262 ; no man is much regarded, even if he have
the best intentions, without a moderate share of parts and understanding,
264; the ancient moralists comprised all sorts of mental endowments
under the name of virtue, 266.
(iii) Cannot limit virtue to social virtues which by theirname imply
virtues of another kind, 26rs.
(iv) Cannot limit virtue to qualities which proceed from the heart
and are accompanied by a sentiment, for industry, frugality, temper-
ance and perseverance are virtues, but are only known to the possessor
by their effects, 262.
Utility of Virtue (v. UtiHty, Justice, Benevolence').
B. Must consist altogether in the possession of mental qualities,
either useful or agreeable, either to the person himself or to others,
217 ; nowhere except in the schools is any other doctrine maintained,
218; this is the view of natural unprejudiced reason, the monkish
virtues rejected by all men of sense because they serve no purpose,
219 ; this theory of virtue only requires of men just calculation and
steady preference of the greater happiness, 228; treating vice with
the greatest candour there is not the smallest pretext for giving it the
preference above virtue with a view of self-interest, 232, though it is
impossible to convince by argument any one who does not feel that
honesty is the best policy, 233 ; men are not deficient in their duty to
society, because they would not wish to be generous, friendly, and
humane, but because they do not feel themselves such, 231 ; for any
one's happiness and self-enjoyment I would sooner have a friendly
and human heart than all Uie other virtues of Demosthenes and
Philip, 204.
INDEX. 371
Voluntariness — as ground of distinction between virtues and talents,
130, a62, 267.
"Whole — theory that everything is good as regards 'the whole,' 79-80
(cf. 256).
"Will — compounds materials given by senses, 13; influence of over
organs of body can never give us the idea of pov?er ; for we are not
conscious of any power in our will, only of sequence of motions
on will, 52 ; so with power of will over our minds in raising up new
ideas, 53.
Of God, cannot be used to explain motion, 57.
And promises and property, 159 n.
Freedom of (w. Necessity).
Wit— ai2, 229.
THE END.
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